apartment?»
I turned to the west where clouds had gone orange, glanced upward to where several hung purple.
«Before we do that, Luke,» I said, «I'd like to use what daylight's left for a look at that black trail.»
He nodded.
«Good idea. Okay, take us over there.»
His gesture indicated a hilly area to the southwest. I caught us up and spikarded us to it, creating a verb for which I felt a neer in the same act. Such is the power of Chaos.
Arriving on a small hilltop, we followed Luke down its far side.
«Over this way,» he said.
Long shadows lay all about us, but there is a difference between their dimness and the blackness of a travel-thread from the Courts.
«It was right here,» Luke finally said when we came to a place between a pair of boulders.
I moved forward into the area but I felt nothing special.
«You sure this is the place?» I asked.
«Yes.»
I advanced another ten paces, twenty.
«If this is really where it was, it's gone now,» I told him. «Of course… I wonder how long we've been ' away?»
Luke snapped his fingers.
«Timing,» he observed. «Take us back to my apartments.»
We kissed the day good-bye as I sent forth a lead and opened our way through the wall of dark. We stepped… through into the room I had occupied earlier with Coral.
«Close enough?» I asked. «I'm not sure where your rooms are.»
«Come on,» he said, taking us out, to the left and down the stair. «Time to consult the resident expert. Merle, do something about this guy's appearance. Too much of a good thing might cause comment.»
It was easy, and the first time I'd made anyone look like the big portrait of Oberon back home.
Luke knocked on a door before entering. Somewhere beyond it, a familiar voice spoke his name.
«I have some friends with me,» he said.
«Bring them in,» came her reply.
He opened the door and did so.
«Both of you know Nayda,» Luke announced. «Nayda, this is my double. Let's call him Rinaldo and me Luke while we're together. He's going to run things for me here while Merle and I are off looking for your sister.»
I changed Rinaldo back then, in response to her puzzled look.
She had on black trousers and an emerald blouse, her hair bound back by a matching green scarf. She smiled as she greeted us, and when she regarded me she touched her lips lightly, almost casually, with a fingertip. I nodded immediately.
«I trust you are recovered from any misadventures in Amber,» I said. «You were, of course, there at a bad time.»
«Of course,» she responded. «Fully recovered, thank you. Kind of you to ask. Thanks, too, for the recent directions. It was you, I take it, who spirited Luke away these two days past?»
«It's really been that long?» I said.
«It has, sir.»
«Sorry about that, my dear,» Luke said, squeezing her hand and looking long into her eyes.
«That explains why the trail's faded,» I said.
Rinaldo seized her hand and kissed it, while executing an elaborate bow.
«Amazing how much you've changed from the girl I knew,» he stated.
«Oh?»
«I share Luke's memories as well as his appearance,» he explained.
«`I could tell there was something not quite human about you,» she remarked. «I see you as a man whose very blood is fire.»
«And how might you see that?» he inquired.
«She has her means,» Luke said, «though I thought it only a psychic bond with her sister. Apparently it goes somewhat further.»
She nodded.
«Speaking of which, I hope you can use it to help us track her,» he continued. «With the trail gone and a drug or a spell barring a Trump call, we'll be needing assisstance.»
«Yes,» she answered, «though she is in no danger at the moment.»
«Good,» he said. «In that case, I'll order us all food and set to briefing this good-looking fellow on what's going on in Kashfa these days.»
«Luke,» I said. «It sounds like an ideal time for me to head back to the Courts for the rest of the funeral.»
«How long would you be gone, Merle?»
«I don't know,» I replied.
«Back by morning, I trust?»
«Me, too. What if I'm not, though?»
«I've a feeling I should go looking without you.»
«Try reaching me first, though.»
«Sure. See you later.»
I drew my cloak of space about me, shrugging Kashfa away. When I opened it again I was back in Jurt's quarters at Sawall.
I stretched, I yawned. I did a quick turn about the room, making certain I was alone. I unfastened my cloak and tossed it upon the bed. I paced as I unbuttoned my shirt.
Halt. What was it? Also, where?
I retraced a few paces. I had never spent a great deal of time in my younger brother's rooms, but I would have recalled what I was feeling.
There was a chair and table in the corner formed by the wall and an armoire of dark, almost black wood. Kneeling on the chair and reaching over the table, I could feel it-the presence of a way, not quite strong enough for transport, though. Ergo…
I moved off to my right, opened the armoire. It had to be inside, of course. I wondered how recently he had installed it. I also felt slightly funny about poking about in his quarters this way. Still, he owed me for a lot of misery and inconvenience. A few confirences and a little cooperation hardly cleaned the slate. I hadn't learned to trust him yet, and it was possible he was setting me up for something. Good manners, I decided, would have to be sacrificed to prudence.
I pushed garments aside, making a way clear to the back of the thing. I could feel it strongly. A final shove at the garments, a quick shuffle to the rear, and I was at the focus. I let it take me away.
Once there was a forward yielding, the pressure of the garments at my back gave me a small push. That, plus the fact that someone (Jurt, himself?) had done a sloppy shadowmastering job resulting in mismatched floor levels, sent me sprawling as I achieved destination.
At least, I didn't land in a pit full of sharpened stakes or acid. Or the lair of some half-starved beast. No, it was a green-tiled floor, and I caught myself as I fell. And from the flickering light all about me I guessed there was a mess of candles burning.
Even before I looked up I was sure they'd all be green.
Nor was I incorrect. About that or anything else. The setup was similar to that of my father, with a groined vault containing a light source superior to the candles. Only there was no painting above this altar. This one featured a stained-glass window, lots of green in it, and a little red.
Its principal was Brand.
I rose and crossed to it. Lying upon it, drawn a few inches from its sheath, was Werewindle.
I reached out and took hold of it, my first impulse being to bear it away with me for eventual restoration to Luke. Then I hesitated. It wasn't something I could wear to a funeral. If I took it now I'd have to hide it somewhere,
