“That's all?”

“That's all.”

“That's not much.”

“I know. If he's the only one who can walk this damned thing, though, and if it is a menace, we could be in big trouble one day.”

“I think you're being an alarmist, Aunty.”

“I hope you're right, Merle. Come on, I'll take you home.”

I studied the place once more, for details as well as feeling, because I wanted to be able to construct a Trump for it. I never told anyone that there had been no resistance as I had lowered my foot, because once you set foot into the Pattern or the Logrus there is no fuming back. You either proceed to the end or are destroyed by it. And as much as I love mysteries, my break was at its end and I had to get back to class.

Power.

We were together in a wood within the Black Zone, that area of

Shadow with which Chaos holds commerce. We were hunting zhind, which are horned, short, black, fierce and carnivorous. I do not much like hunting because I do not much like killing things I don't really have to. However, it was Jurt's idea, and since it was possibly also my last chance to work some reconciliation with my brother before I departed, I had decided to take him up on the offer. Neither of us was that great an archer, and zhind are pretty fast. So with any luck at all nothing would get dead and we'd have some chance to talk and perhaps come away on better terms at the end of the hunt.

On one occasion when we'd lost the trail and were resting, we talked for a long time about archery, court politics, Shadow and the weather. He had been much more civil to me of late, which I took for a good sign. He'd let his hair grow in such a fashion as to cover the area of his missing left ear. Ears are hard to regenerate. We did not speak of our duel, or of the argument that had led up to it. Because I would soon be out of his life, I felt perhaps he wished to close this chapter of his existence in a relatively friendly fashion, with both of us going our ways with a memory we could feel good about. I was half right, anyway.

Later, when we had halted for a cold hail lunch, he asked me, “So, what does it feel like?”

“What?” I said.

“The power,” he answered. “The Logrus power-to walk in Shadow, to work with a higher order of magic than the mundane.”

I didn't really want to go into detail, because I knew he'd prepared himself to traverse the Logrus on three different occasions and had backed down at the last moment each time, when he'd looked into it. Perhaps the skeletons of failures that Suhuy keeps around had troubled him also. I don't think Jurt was aware that I knew about the last two times he'd changed his mind. So I decided to downplay my accomplishment.

“Oh, you don't really feel any different,” I said, “until you're actually using it. Then it's hard to describe.”

“I'm thinking of doing it soon myself,” he said. “It would be good to see something of Shadow, maybe even find a kingdom for myself somewhere. Can you give me any advice?”

I nodded. “Don't look back,” I said. “Don't stop to think. Just keep going.”

He laughed. “Sounds like orders to an army,” he said.

“I suppose there is a similarity.”

He laughed again. “Let's go kill us a zhind,” he said.

That afternoon, we lost a trail in a thicket full of fallen branches. We'd heard the zhind crash through it, but it was not immediately apparent which way it had gone. I had my back to Jurt and was facing the forward edge of the place, searching for some sign, when F'rakir constricted tightly about my wrist, then came loose and fell to the ground.

I bent over to retrieve her, wondering what had happened, when I heard a thank from overhead. Glancing upward, I saw an arrow protruding from the bole of the tree before me. Its height above the ground was such that had I remained standing it would have entered my back.

I tamed quickly toward Jurt, not even straightening from my crouch. He was fitting another arrow to his bow.

He said, “Don't look back. Don't stop to think. Just keep going,” and he laughed.

I dove toward him as he raised the weapon. A better archer would probably have killed me. I think when I moved he panicked and released the arrow prematurely, though, because it caught in the side of my leather vest and I didn't feel any pain.

I clipped him above the knees, and he dropped the bow as he fell over backward. He drew his hunting knife, rolled to the side and swung the a . weapon toward my throat. I caught his wrist with my left hand and was cast onto my back by the force of his momentum. I struck at his face with my right fist while holding the blade away from me. He blocked the punch and kneed me in the balls.

The point of the blade dropped to within inches of my throat as this blow collapsed a big piece of my resistance. Still aching, I was able to turn my hip to prevent another ball-buster, simultaneous with casting my right forearm beneath his wrist and cutting my hand in the process. Then I pushed with my right, pulled with my left and rolled to the left with the force of the turn. His arm was jerked free from my still-weakened grasp, and he rolled off to the side and I tried to recover-and then I heard him scream.

Coming up onto my knees, I saw that he lay upon his left side where he had come to a stop and the knife was several feet beyond him, caught in a tangle of broken branches. Both hands were raised to his face, and his cries were wordless, animal-like bleats.

I made my way over to him to see what had happened, with Frakir held ready to wrap about his throat in case it were some sort of trick he was playing.

But it was not. When I reached him I saw that a sharp limb of a fallen branch had pierced his right eye. There was blood on his cheek and the side of his nose.

“Stop jerking around!” I said. “You'll make it worse. Let me get it out.”

“Keep your damn hands off me!” he cried.

Then, clenching his teeth and grimacing horribly, he caught hold of the limb with his right hand and drew his head back. I had to look away. He made a whimpering noise several moments later and collapsed, unconscious. I ripped off my left shirt sleeve, tore a strip from it, folded it into a pad and placed it over his damaged eye. With another strip, I tied it into place there. Frakir found her way back about my wrist, as usual.

Then I dug out the Trump that would take us home and raised him in my arms. Mom wasn't going to like this.

Power.

It was a Saturday. Luke and I had been hang gliding all morning. Then

we met Julia and Gail for lunch, and afterward we took the Starburst out and sailed all afternoon. Later, we'd hit the bar and grill at the marina where I bought the beers while we waited for steaks, because Luke had slammed my right arm flat against the tabletop when we'd wrist wrestled to see who paid for drinks.

Someone at the next table said, “If I had a million dollars, tax free, I'd ...” and Julia had laughed as she listened.

“What's funny?” I asked her.

“His wish list,” she said. “I'd want a closet full. of designer dresses and some elegant jewelry to go with them. Put the closet in a really nice house, and put the house someplace where I'd be important...”

Luke smiled. “I detect a shift from money to power,” he said.

“Maybe so,” she replied. “But what's the difference, really?”

“Money buys things,” Luke said. “Power makes things happen. If you ever have a choice, take the power.”

Gail's usual faint smile had faded, and she wore a very serious expression.

“I don't believe power should be an end in itself,” she said. “One has it only to use it in certain ways.”

Julia laughed. “What's wrong with a power trip?” she asked. “It sounds like fun to me.”

“Only till you run into a greater power,” Luke said.