'Haven't made up my mind yet. I've been something of a wanderer.'
I laughed.
'You're a beast after my own heart. In that your sentiments are most unbeastlike, how can I repay you for this transport?'
'Wait. I've a feeling the Fates will take care of that.'
'So be it. In the meantime, though, if you happen to think of something special, let me know.'
'It's a privilege to help you, Lord Corwin. Let it go at that.'
'All right. Thanks.'
We passed through shadow after shadow. Suns ran backward and storms assailed us out of beautiful skies. We toyed with night, which might have trapped a less adroit pair than us, found a twilight, and took our rations there. Shortly thereafter, Shask turned back to stone. Nothing attacked us that night, and my dreams were hardly worth dreaming.
Next day we were on our way early, and I used every trick I knew to shortcut us through Shadow on our way home. Home... It did feel good to be headed back, despite Shask's comments on my relatives. I'd no idea I would miss Amber as much as I had. I'd been away far longer on countless occasions, but usually I had at least a rough idea as to when I might be heading back. A prison in the Courts, though, was not a place from which one might make such estimates.
So we tore on, wind across a plain, fire in the mountains, water down a steep ravine. That evening I felt the resistance begin, the resistance which comes when one enters that area of Shadow near to Amber. I tried to make it all the way but failed. We spent that night at a place near to where the Black Road used to run. There was no trace of it now.
The next day the going was slower, but, more and more, familiar shadows cropped up. That night we slept in Arden, but Julian did not find us. I either dreamed his hunting horn or heard it in the distance as I slept; and though it is often prelude to death and destruction, it merely made me feel nostalgic. I was finally near to home.
The next morning I woke before sunup. Shask, of course, was still a blue lizard curled at the base of a giant tree. So I made tea and ate an apple afterward. We were low on provisions but should soon be in the land of plenty.
Shask slowly unwound as the sun came up. I fed him the rest of the apples and gathered my possessions.
We were riding before too long, slow and easy, since there would be some hard climbing up the back route I favored. During our first break I asked him to become once more a horse, and he obliged. It didn't seem to make that much difference, and I requested he maintain it. I wanted to display his beauty in that form.
'Will you be heading right back after you've seen me here?' I asked.
'I've been meaning to talk to you about that,' he responded. 'Things have been slow back in the Courts, and I'm no one's assigned mount.'
'Oh?'
'You're going to need a good mount, Lord Corwin.'
'Yes, I'm sure.'
'I'd like to apply for the job, for an indefinite period.'
'I'd be honored,' I said. 'You're very special.'
'Yes, I am.'
We were atop Kolvir that afternoon and onto the grounds of Amber Palace within hours after that. I found Shask a good stall, groomed him, fed him, and left him to turn to stone at his leisure. I found a nameplate, scratched Shasko's name and my own upon it, and tacked it to his door.
'See you later,' I said.
'Whatever, Lord. Whatever.'
I departed the stables and headed for the palace. It was a damp, cloudy day, with a chill breeze from the direction of the sea. So far, no one had spotted me.
I entered by way of the kitchen, where there was new help on duty. None of them recognized me, though they obviously realized that I belonged. At least, they returned my greeting with due respect and did not object to some fruit I pocketed. They did ask whether I cared to have something sent to one of the rooms, and I answered 'yes' and told them to send a bottle of wine and a chicken along with it. The afternoon head chef--a redhaired lady named Clare--began studying me more closely, and more than once her gaze drifted toward the silver rose on my cloak. I did not want to announce my identity just then, and I thought they'd be a little afraid to guess ahead at it, at least for a few hours. I did want the time to rest a bit and just enjoy the pleasure of being back. So, 'Thanks,' I said, and I went on my way to my quarters.
I started up the back stairs the servants use for being unobtrusive and the rest of us for being sneaky.
Partway up, I realized that the way was blocked by sawhorses. Tools lay scattered about the stairs though there were no workmen in sight--and I couldn't tell whether a section of old stair had simply given way or whether some other force had been brought to bear upon it.
I returned, cut around to the front, and took the big stairway up. As I made my way, I saw signs of exterior repair work, including entire walls and sections of flooring. Any number of apartments were open to viewing. I hurried to make sure that mine was not among their number.
Fortunately, it was not. I was about to let myself in when a big redhaired fellow turned a corner and headed toward me. I shrugged. Some visiting dignitary, no doubt...
'Corwin!' he called out. 'What are you doing here?'
As he drew nearer, I saw that he was studying me most intently. I gave him the same treatment.
'I don't believe I've had the pleasure,' I said.
'Aw, come on, Corwin,' he said. 'You surprised me. Thought you were off by your Pattern and the '57 Chevy.'
I shook my head.
'Not sure what you're talking about,' I said.
He narrowed his eyes.
'You're not a Pattern ghost?' he said.
'Merlin told me something about them,' I said, 'after he effected my release at the Courts. But I don't believe I've ever met one.'
I rolled up my left sleeve.
'Cut me. I bleed,' I said.
As he studied my arm, his gaze appeared more than a little serious. For a moment, I thought he'd actually take me up on it.
'All right,' he said then. 'Just a nick. For security purposes.'
'I still don't know who I'm talking to,' I said.
He bowed.
'Sorry. I am Luke of Kashfa, sometimes known as Rinaldo I, its king. If you are who you say you are, I am your nephew. My dad was your brother Brand.'
Studying him, I saw the resemblance. I thrust my arm farther forward.
'Do it,' I said.
'You're serious.'
'Dead right.'
He drew a Bowie knife from his belt then and looked into my eyes. I nodded. He moved to touch my forearm with its tip and nothing happened. That is to say, something happened, but it was neither desired nor wholly anticipated.
The point of his blade seemed to sink a halfinch or so into my arm. It kept going then, finally passing all the way through. But no blood came.
He tried again. Nothing.
'Damn,' he said. 'I don't understand. If you were a Pattern ghost, we'd at least get a flare. But there's not even a mark on you.'
'May I borrow the blade?' I asked.
