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We let the horses pick their own casual pace down thiough the dip and up the next rise. As we neared its crest, Random's horse whi
When he reached its summit, Random slowed and called back, “Take a look at that sunrise now, will you?”
It would have been rather difficult to avoid doing so, though I did not remark on the fact. Random was seldom given to sentimentality over vegetation, geology, or illumination.
I almost drew rein myself as I topped the rise, for the sun was a fantastic golden ball. It seemed half again its normal size, and its peculiar coloration was unlike anything I remembered having seen before. It did marvelous things to the band of ocean that had come into view above the next rise, and the tints of cloud and sky were indeed singular. I did not halt, though, for the sudden brightness was almost painful.
“You're right,” I called out, following him down into the next declivity. Behind me, Ganelon snorted an appreciative oath.
When I had blinked away the aftereffects of that display I noticed that the vegetation was heavier than I had remembered in this little pocket in the sky. I had thought there were several scrubby trees and some patches of lichen, but there were actually several dozen trees, larger than I recalled, and greener, with a clutch of grasses here and there and a vine or two softening the outlines of the rocks. However, since my return I had only passed this way after dark. And now that I thought of it, it was probably the source of the aromas that had come to me earlier.
Passing through, it seemed that the little hollow was also wider than I recalled it. By the time we had crossed and were ascending once more, I was certain of it.
“Random,” I called out, “has this place changed recently?”
“Hard to say,” he answered. “Eric didn't let me out much. It seems to have grown up a bit.”
“It seems bigger-wider.”
“Yes, it does. I had thought that that was just my imagination.”
When we reached the next crest I was not dazzled again because the sun was blocked by foliage. The area ahead of us contained many more trees than the one we had just departed-and they were larger and closer together. We drew rein.
“I don't remember this,” he said. “Even passing through at night, it would have registered. We must have taken a wrong turn.”
“I don't see how. Still, we know about where we are. I would rather go ahead than go back and start again. We should keep aware of conditions around Amber, anyway.”
“True.”
He headed down toward the wood. We followed.
“It's kind of unusual, at this altitude-a growth like this,” he called back.
“There also seems to be a lot more soil than I recall.”
“I believe you are right.”
The trail curved to the left as we entered among the trees. I could see no reason for this deviation from the direct route. We stayed with it, however, and it added to the illusion of distance. After a few moments it swung suddenly to the right again. The prospect on cutting back was peculiar. The trees seemed even taller and were now so dense as to puzzle the eye that sought their penetration. When it turned once more it broadened, and the way was straight for a great distance ahead. Too great, in fact. Our little dell just wasn't that wide. Random halted again.
“Damn it, Corwin! This is ridiculous!” he said. “You are not playing games, are you?”
“I couldn't if I would,” I said. “I have never been able to manipulate Shadow anywhere on Kolvir. There isn't supposed to be any to work with here.”
“That has always been my understanding, too. Amber casts Shadow but is not of it. I don't like this at all. What do you say we turn back?”
“I've a feeling we might not be able to retrace our way,” I said. “There has to be a reason for this, and I want to know it.”
“It occurs to me that it might be some sort of a trap.”
“Even so,” I said.
He nodded and we rode on, down that shaded way, under trees now grown more stately. The wood was silent about us. The ground remained level, the trail straight. Half consciously, we pushed the horses to a greater pace.
About five minutes passed before we spoke again. Then Random said, “Corwin, this can't be Shadow.”
“Why not?”
“I have been trying to influence it and nothing happens. Have you tried?”
“No.”
“Why don't you?”
“All right.”
A rock could jut beyond the coming tree, a morning glory twine and bell within that shrubby stand... There ought a patch of sky come clear, a wispy cloud upon it... Then let there be a fallen limb, a stair of fungus up its side... A scummed-over puddle... A frog... Falling feather, drifting seed... A limb that twists just so... Another trail upon our way, fresh-cut, deep-marked, past the place the feather should have fallen...
“No good,” I said.
“If it is not Shadow, what is it?”
“Something else, of course.”
He shook his head and checked again to see that his blade was loose in its scabbard. Automatically, I did the same. Moments later, I heard Ganelon's make a small clicking noise behind me.
Ahead, the trail began to narrow, and shortly thereafter it commenced to wander. We were forced to slow our pace once again, and the trees pressed nearer with branches sweeping lower than at any time before. The trail became a path. It jogged, it curved, it gave a final twist and then quit.
Random ducked a limb, then raised his hand and halted. We came up beside him. For as far as I could see ahead there was no indication of the trail's picking up again. Looking back, I failed to locate any sign of it either.
“Suggestions,” he said, “are now in order. We do not know where we have been or where we are going, let alone where we are. My suggestion is the hell with curiosity. Let's get out of here the fastest way we know how.”
“The Trumps?” Ganelon asked.
“Yes. What do you say, Corwin?”
“Okay. I don't like it either, and I can't think of anything better to try. Go ahead.”
“Who should I try for?” he asked, producing his deck and uncasing it.
“Gerard?”
“Yes.”
He shuffled through his cards, located Guard's, stared at it. We stared at him. Time went its way.
“I can't seem to reach him,” he finally a
“Try Benedict.”
“Okay.”
Repeat performance. No contact.
“Try Deirdre,” I said, drawing forth my own deck and searching out her Trump.
“I'll join you. We will see whether it makes a difference with two of us trying.”
And again. And again.
“Nothing,” I said after a long effort.
Random shook his head.
“Did you notice anything unusual about your Trumps?” he asked.
“Yes, but I don't know what it is. They do seem different.”
“Mine seem to have lost that quality of coldness they once possessed,” he said.
I shuffled mine slowly. I ran my fingertips across them.
“Yes, you are right,” I said. “That's it. But let us try again. Say, Flora.”
“Okay.”
The results were the same. And with Llewella. And Brand.
“Any idea what could be wrong?” Random asked.
“Not the slightest. They couldn't all be blocking us. They couldn't all be dead... Oh, I suppose they could. But it is highly unlikely. Something seems to have affected the Trumps themselves, is what it is. And I never knew of anything that could do that.”
“Well, they are not guaranteed one hundred percent,” Random said, “according to the manufacturer.”
“What do you know that I don't?”
He chuckled.
“You never forget the day you come of age and walk the Pattern,” he said. “I remember it as though it were last year. When I had succeeded-all flushed with excitement, with glory-Dworkin presented me with my first set of Trumps and instructed me in their use. I distinctly recall asking him whether they worked everywhere. And I remember his answer: 'No,' he said. 'But they should serve in any place you will ever be. ' He never much liked me, you know.”