“Time is running,” I said.

“In that case my answer is no,'' she told me. “Lock me up someplace and go to the Keep without me.”

I glanced at Mandor.

“In that I have not yet agreed to accept your offer,” Jasra continued, “Rinaldo would call this an entertainment expense.”

“I see no harm in it,” Mandor said.

“Then let her speak,” I told him.

“You may talk, ty'iga,” he said.

Her first words were not addressed to Jasra, however; but to me:

“Merlin, you have to let me accompany you.”

I moved around to where I could see her face.

“No way,” I told her.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because your penchant for protecting me will actually hinder me in a situation where I will probably have to take some chances.”

“That is my nature,” she responded.

“And my problem,” I said. “I mean you no ill. I'll be glad to talk to you when this is all over, but you're going to have to sit this one out.”

Jasra cleared her throat.

“Is that the entire message? Or is there something you wished to tell me, also?” Jasra asked.

There followed a long silence, then, “Will you be accompanying them or not?” Nayda inquired.

Jasra took just as long to respond, obviously weighing her words:

“This is a clandestine, personal operation,” she said. “I am not at all certain it would be countenanced by Merlin's seniors here in Amber. While it is true that I stand to gain if I cooperate, I will also undergo considerable risk. Of course, I want my freedom and the restoration of the Keep. It is almost a fair trade. But he also asks a quitclaim on the vendetta. What assurance have I that this means anything here, and that the hierarchy of Amber will not hunt me down as a troublemaker afterward? He cannot speak for the others when he operates on the sly this way.”

Somehow, it had become a question addressed to me, and since it was a very good question to which I did not really have an answer, I was glad that the ty'iga had something to say:

“I believe that I can persuade you that it would be in your best interest to agree to accompany them and to render every assistance you can,” she offered.

“Pray, begin,” Jasra told her.

“I would have to speak with you in private on this matter.”

Jasra smiled, out of her love for intrigue, I am certain.

“It is agreeable to me,” she said.

“Mandor, force her to say it now,” I said.

“Wait!” Jasra declared. “I will have this private conversation or you can forget about my help.”

I began wondering just how much help Jasra really represented if she couldn't call upon the Fount to dispose of Jurt, should that become our biggest problem. True, she knew the Keep. But I didn't even know for certain how accomplished a sorceress she might be.

On the other hand, I wanted this thing settled now, and one more adept could make the difference.

“Nayda,” I said, “are you planning something that could be damaging to Amber?”

“No,” she replied.

“Mandor, what do ty'iga swear by?” I inquired.

“They don't,” he said.

“What the hell,” I said. “How much time do you want?”

“Give us ten minutes,” she told me.

“Let's take a walk,” I said to Mandor.

“Surely,” he agreed, tossing another metal ball toward Nayda. It joined the others in orbit about her, a little above waist level.

I fetched a key from my desk drawer before departing. And as soon as we were in the hall I asked him, “Is there any way Jasra could free her?”

“Not with the additional circuit of confinement I established on the way out,” he replied. “Not many could figure a way past it, and certainly not in ten minutes.”

“She's just full of secrets, that damned ty'iga,” I said. “Kind of makes me wonder who's really the prisoner here.”

“She's only trading some bit of knowledge for Jasra's cooperation,” he said. “She wants the lady to accompany us if she can't go herself, since it will mean extra protection for you.”

“Then why can't we be present?”

“Nothing that I learned from her sheds any tight on this,” he said.

“Well, since I have a few minutes, there is a small errand I want to run. Would you keep an eye on things here and take charge if she calls us in before I get back?”

He smiled.

“If one of your relatives strolls by, should I introduce myself as a lord of Chaos?”

“I thought you were also a lord of deception.”

“Of course,” he said, and he clapped his hands and vanished.

“I'll hurry,” I said.

“Cheerio,” came his voice, from somewhere.

I hurried off up the hall. It was a little pilgrimage, I suppose-one that I had not made in a long while. On the brink of an enterprise such as this, it seemed somehow appropriate.

When I reached the door, I stood outside it for a moment, my eyes closed, visualizing the interior as last I had seen it. It was my father's apartment. I had wandered through it on many occasions, trying to judge from the furnishings, the layout, his bookshelves, and his curious collections something more than I already knew about the man. There was always some little thing that caught my attention, that answered a question or raised a new one-an inscription on the flyleaf of a book or a note in a margin, a silver hairbrush bearing the wrong set of initials, a daguerreotype of an attractive brunette signed “To Carl, Love, Carolyn,” a snapshot of my father shaking hands with General MacArthur...

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

I did not move for several seconds, however, as a light glowed inside the place. For more long moments I listened, but there were no sounds from within. Slowly then, I entered. A number of candles burned upon the dresser set against the far wall. There was no one in sight.

“Hello?” I called. out. “It's me. Merlin.” There came no answer.

I drew the door closed behind me and moved forward. A bud vase stood upon the dresser amid the candles. It contained a single rose, and it appeared to be silver in color. I drew nearer. Yes, it was real, not artificial. And it was silver. In what shadow did such flowers grow?

I picked up one of the candles by its, holder and moved away with it, shielding its flame with my hand. I crossed to my left and entered the next room. Immediately, on opening the door, I saw that there was no need to have brought the candle. More of them were burning here.

“Hello?” I repeated.

Again, no answer. No sounds of any sort.

I set the candle upon a nearby table and crossed to the bed. I raised a sleeve and let it fall. A silvery shirt was laid out upon the counterpane beside a black pair of trousers-my father's colors. They had not been there when last I had visited.

I seated myself beside them and stared across the room into a shadowy corner. What was going on? Some bizarre household ritual? A haunting? or...

“Corwin?” I said.

In that I'd hardly expected a reply, I was not disappointed. When I rose, however, I bumped against a heavy object hung upon the nearest bedpost. I reached out and raised it for a better view. A belt with a sheathed weapon hung upon it. These had not been present last time either. I gripped the haft and drew the blade.

A portion of the Pattern, contained within the gray metal, danced in the candlelight. This was Grayswandir, sword of my father. What it was doing back here now, I had no idea.

And I realized with a pang that I could not stick around to see what might be going on. I had to get back to my own problems. Yes, timing was definitely against me today.

I resheathed Grayswandir.

“Dad?” I said. “If you can hear me, I want to get together again. But I have to go now. Good luck on whatever you're about.”

Then I departed the room, touched the silver rose as I passed and locked the door behind me. As I turned away, I realized that I was shaking.