Guns Of Avalon

Then we faced the wood once more, but now the way led uphill through it. Now the trees were tropical giants, interspersed with ferns, and new noises-barks, hisses, and buzzes-were to be heard. Moving up this trail, the rumble grew louder about us, the very ground begi

It plunged for over a thousand feet: a mighty cataract that smote the gray river like an anvil. The currents were rapid and strong, bearing bubbles and flecks of foam a great distance before they finally dissolved. Across from us, perhaps half a mile distant, partly screened by rainbow and mist, like an island slapped by a Titan, a gigantic wheel slowly rotated, ponderous and gleaming. High overhead, enormous birds rode like drifting crucifixes the currents of the air.

We stood there for a fairly long while. Conversation was impossible, which was just as well. After a time, when she turned from it to look at me, narrow-eyed, speculative, I nodded and gestured with my eyes toward the wood. Turning then, we made our way back in the direction from which we had come.

Our return was the same process in reverse, and I managed it with greater ease. When conversation became possible once more, Dara still kept her silence, apparently realizing by then that I was a part of the process of change going on around us.

It was not until we stood beside our own stream once more, watching the small mill wheel in its turning, that she spoke.

“Was that place like the village?”

“Yes. A shadow.”

“And like Amber?”

“No. Amber casts Shadow. It can be sliced to any shape, if you know how. That place was a shadow, your village was a shadow-and this place is a shadow. Any place that you can imagine exists somewhere in Shadow.”

“...And you and Grandpa and the others can go about in these shadows, picking and choosing what you desire?”

“Yes.”

“That is what I did, then, coming back from the village?”

“Yes.”

Her face became a study in realization. Her almost black eyebrows dropped half an inch and her nostrils flared with a quick inhalation.

“I can do it, too...” she said. “Go anywhere, do anything I want!”

“The ability lies within you,” I said.

She kissed me then, a sudden, impulsive thing, then rotated away, her hair bobbing on her slim neck as she tried to look at everything at once.

“Then I can do anything,” she said, coming to a standstill.

“There are limitations, dangers...”

“That is life,” she said. “How do I learn to control it?”

“The Great Pattern of Amber is the key. You must walk it in order to gain the ability. It is inscribed on the floor in a chamber beneath the palace in Amber. It is quite large. You must begin on the outside and walk it to its center without stopping. There is considerable resistance and the feat is quite an ordeal. If you stop, if you attempt to depart the Pattern before completing it, it will destroy you. Complete it, though, and your power over Shadow will be subject to your conscious control.”

She raced to our picnic site and studied the pattern we had drawn on the ground there.

I followed more slowly. As I drew near, she said, “I must go to Amber and walk it!”

“I am certain that Benedict plans for you to do so, eventually,” I said.

“Eventually?” she said. “Now! I must walk it now! Why did he never tell me of these things?”

“Because you ca

“It is not fair!” she said, turning to glare at me.

“Of course not,” I said. “But that is the way things stand just now. Don't blame me.”

The words came somewhat stickily to my lips. Part of the blame, of course, was mine.

“It would almost be better if you had not told me of these things,” she said, “if I ca

“It is not as bad as all that,” I said. “The situation in Amber will become stable again-before too very long.”

“How will I learn of it?”

“Benedict will know. He will tell you then.”

“He has not seen fit to tell me much of anything!”

“To what end? Just to make you feel bad? You know that he has been good to you, that he cares for you. When the time is ready, he will move on your behalf.”

“And if he does not? Will you help me then?”

“I will do what I can.”

“How will I be able to find you? To let you know?”

I smiled. It had gotten to this point without my half trying. No need to tell her the really important part. Just enough to be possibly useful to me later...

“The cards,” I said, “the family Trumps. They are more than a mere sentimental affectation. They are a means of communication. Get hold of mine, stare at it, concentrate on it, try to keep all other thoughts out of your mind, pretend that it is really me and begin talking to me then. You will find that it really is, and that I am answering you.”

“Those are all the things Grandpa told me not to do when I handle the cards!”

“Of course.”

“How does it work?”

“Another time,” I said. “A thing for a thing. Remember? I have told you now of Amber and of Shadow. Tell me of the visit here by Gerard and Julian.”

“Yes,” she said. “There is not really much to tell, though. One morning, five or six months ago. Grandpa simply stopped what he was doing. He was pruning some trees back in the orchard-he likes to do that himself-and I was helping him. He was up on a ladder, snipping away, and suddenly he just stopped, lowered the clippers, and did not move for several minutes. I thought that he was just resting, and I kept on with my raking. Then I heard him talking-not just muttering-but talking as though he were carrying on a conversation. At first, I thought he was talking to me, and I asked him what he had said. He ignored me, though. Now that I know about the Trumps, I realize that he must have been talking to one of them just then. Probably Julian. Anyway, he climbed down from the ladder quite quickly after that, told me he had to go away for a day or so, and started back toward the manor. He stopped before he had gone very far, though, and returned. That was when he told me that if Julian and Gerard were to visit here that I was to be introduced as his ward, the orphaned daughter of a faithful servant. He rode away a short while later, leading two spare horses. He was wearing his blade.

“He returned in the middle of the night, bringing both of them with him. Gerard was barely conscious. His left leg was broken, and the entire left side of his body was badly bruised. Julian was quite battered also, but-he had no broken bones. They remained with us for the better part of a month, and they healed quickly. Then they borrowed two horses and departed. I have not seen them since.”

“What did they say as to how they had been injured?”

“Only that they had been in an accident They would not discuss it with me.”

“Where? Where did it happen?”

“On the black road. I overheard them talking about it several times.”

“Where is this black road?”

“I do not know.”

“What did they say about it?”

“They cursed it a lot. That was all.”

Looking down, I saw that there was some wine left in the bottle. I stooped and poured two final drinks, passed her one.

“To the reunion,” I said, and smiled.

“...The reunion,” she agreed, and we drank.