“When we get back to the palace..?” she said then.

“Yes?”

“...You will take me to see the Pattern, won't you?”

I laughed.

.. . Or unless something else were occupying my mind.

“Right away? First thing in the door?” I asked.

“Yes.

“Sure,” I said.

Then, that off her mind, “Your story changes my picture of the world,” she said, “and I wouldn't presume to advise you...” ,

“But—” I continued.

“...If seems that the Keep of the Four Worlds, holds the answers you want. Everything else may fall into place when you learn what's going on there. But I don't understand why you can't just do a card for it and trump in.”

“Good question. There are parts of the Courts of Chaos to which no one can trump because they change constantly and cannot be represented in a permanent fashion. The same applies to the place where I situated Ghostwheel. Now, the terrain around the Keep fluctuates quite a bit, but I'm not positive that's the reason for the blockage. The place is a power center, and I think it possible that someone diverted some of that power into a shielding spell. A good enough magician might be able to drill through it with a Trump, but I've a feeling that the force required would probably set off some psychic ; alarm and destroy any element of surprise.”

“What does the place look like, anyway?'' she asked.

“Well...,” I began. “Here.” I took my notebook and Scripto from my shirt pocket and sketched. “See, all of this area is volcanic.” I scribbled in a few fumaroles and wisps of smoke. “And this part is Ice Age.” More scribbles. “Ocean here, mountains here...”

“Then it sounds as if your best bet is to use the Pattern again,” she said, studying the drawing and shaking her head.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you'll be doing it soon?”

“Possibly.”

“How will you attack them?”

“I'm still working on that.”

“If there's any sort of way that I can help you, I meant what I said.”

“There isn't.”

“Don't be so sure. I'm well trained. I'm resourceful. I even know a few spells.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But no.”

“No discussion?”

“Nope.”

“If you change your mind...”

“I won't.”

“...Let me know.”

We reached the Concourse, moved along it. The winds grew more blustery here and something cold touched my cheek. Then again...

“Snow!” Coral announced, just as I realized that a few middle-sized flakes were drifting past us, vanishing immediately when they hit the ground.

“If your party had arrived at the proper time,” I observed, “you might not have had your walk.”

“Sometimes I'm lucky,” she said.

It was snowing fairly hard by the time we reached the palace grounds. We used the postern gate again, pausing on the walkway to gaze back down over the light-dotted town, half screened by falling flakes. I knew she kept looking longer than I did, because I turned to gaze at her. She appeared-happy, I guess-as if she were pasting the scene in a mental scrapbook. So I leaned over and kissed her cheek, because it seemed like a good idea.

“Oh,” she said, fuming to face me. “You surprised me.”

“Good,"I told her. “I hate to telegraph these things. Let's get the troops in out of the cold.”

She smiled and took my arm.

Inside, the guard told me, “Llewella wants to know whether you two will be joining them all for dinner.”

“When is dinner?” I asked him.

“In about an hour and a half, I believe.”

I glanced at Coral, who shrugged.

“I guess so,” I said.

“Front dining room, upstairs,” he told me. “Shall I pass the word to my sergeant-he's due by soon-and have him deliver it? Or do you want to—”

“Yes,” I said. “Do that.”

“Care to wash up, change clothes..?” I began, as we walked away.

“The Pattern,” she said.

“It would involve a lot more stairs,” I told her.

She turned toward me, her face tightening, but saw that I was smiling.

“This way,” I said, leading her to the main hall and through it.

I didn't recognize the guard at the end of the brief corridor that led up to the stair. He knew who I was, though, glanced curiously at Coral, opened the door, found us a lantern, and lit it.

“I'm told there's a loose step,” he remarked as he passed me the light.

“Which one is it?” He shook his head.

“Prince Gerard's reported it several times,” he said, “but no one else seems to notice it.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

This time Coral didn't object to my going first. Of the two, this was more intimidating than the stairway on the cliff face, mainly because you can't see bottom and after a few paces you can't see much of anything beyond the shell of light within which you move as you wind your way down. And there's a heavy sense of vastness all about you. I've never seen the place illuminated, but I gather that the impression is not incorrect. It's a very big cavern, and you go round and round and down in the middle of it, wondering when you'll reach the bottom.

After a time, Coral cleared her throat, then, “Could we stop for a minute?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, halting. “Out of breath?”

“No,” she said. “How much farther?”

“I don't know,” I replied. “It seems a different distance each time I come this way. If you want to go back and have dinner, we can see it tomorrow. You've had a busy day.”

“No,” she answered. “But I wouldn't mind your holding me for a minute.”

It seemed an awkward place to get romantic, so I cleverly deduced that there was another reason, said nothing, and obliged.

It took me a long while to realize that she was crying.

She was very good at concealing it.

“What's the matter?” I finally asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Nervous reaction, maybe. Primitive reflex. Darkness. Claustrophobia. Like that.”

“Let's go back.”

“No”

So we started down again.

About a half minute later I saw something white near the side of a lower step. I slowed. Then I realized that it was only a handkerchief. A little nearer, however, and I saw that it was held in place by a dagger. Also, there were markings upon it. I halted, reached out, flattened it, and read. “THIS ONE, DAMN IT! -GERARD,” It said.

“Careful here,” I said to Coral.

I prepared to step over it, but on an impulse I tested it lightly with one foot. No squeaks. I shifted more weight onto it. Nothing. It felt fine. I stood on it. The same. I shrugged.

“Careful, anyway,” I said.

Nothing happened when she stepped on it either, and we kept going. A little later, I saw a flicker in the distance below. It was moving, and I guessed someone was doing a patrol. What for? I wondered. Were there prisoners to be tended and watzhhed? Were certain cave mouths considered vulnerable points? And what about the business of locking the chamber of the Pattern and hanging the key on the wall near the door? Was there some possible danger from that quarter? How? Why? I realized that I ought to pursue these questions one of these days.

When we reached the bottom the guard was nowhere in sight, however. The table, the racks, and a few foot lockers-which constituted the guard station-were illuminated by a number of lanterns, but the guard was not at his post. Too bad. It would be interesting to ask what the orders called for in the event of an emergencyhopefully also specifying the possible natures of various emergencies. For the first time, though, I noticed a rope hanging down from the darkness into the dimness beside a weapons rack. I drew upon it ever so gently and it yielded, to be followed a moment later by a faint metallic sound from somewhere high overhead. Interesting. Obviously, this was the alarm.

“Which... way?” Coral asked.

“Oh, come on,” I said, taking her hand, and I led her off to the right.

I kept waiting for echoes as we moved, but none came. Periodically, I raised the light. The darkness would recede a bit then, but nothing came into view beyond an . additional area of floor.