FicWad

Chapter 2 – Stairway to…

The supernatural risers Sarah was currently descending had literally just appeared out of the ether, yet unlike the eerie and somewhat dangerous-looking staircase that led up into Tir-na Nog’th, this one was more reassuringly opaque-white, if still pearlescent.

Opalescent, she corrected herself, seeing the pale-washed sunlight glint and sparkle off of it from erratic angles, setting off different pastel colors; apparently one of the side-effects of wearing the Dreamstone outside of Tir-na Nog’th was this visual bleaching she was currently experiencing. It was not unlike wearing very strange sunglasses – knowing perfectly well what colors the world should be, and yet… She paused on one of the semi-circular landings to catch her breath; if she hadn’t already been in good cardiovascular-aerobic condition, this little marathon jaunt she was currently on would’ve certainly done it – or killed her, whichever came first. She took another swig from the canteen before starting off again, stuffing it back in her bag; it was a very good thing that she’d snagged her carryall before being snatched away from Shadow Earth! Again…

The 600-plus-feet from the top of Mount Kolvir to the dense forest floor below was likely somewhat lengthened further by the artificially graded path she now took, her epic Guide still far outpacing her; hopefully She would deign to wait for Her mortal companion once they were down in the Arden proper. The bizarrely glary lighting conditions Sarah was experiencing were beginning to cause a small amount of eyestrain, but she wasn’t about to take the Stone off until real honest-to-goodness terra firma was beneath her feet again – she had no idea what would happen to this dream of a smooth path if she did so now and figured she’d rather not find out the hard way; there were only so many possibilities, most not terribly comforting. Even at the most mundane, the rail-skinny ‘normal’ trail far below them would have required a very experienced horseman to pick their way down, the going was so steep and rocky near the summit. It simply wasn’t worth the considerable risk, even in spite of the irritating small tricks her vision kept playing on her; the longer she wore it, she gradually came to realize that the artifact had to take cues from the wearer’s subconscious (or even unconscious) mind: more faeries of varying descriptions kept appearing and disappearing at random about the trees, even in the air in front of her; a large boulder had abruptly formed a face, but when it saw her and moved its great, heavy granite jaw to speak no audible sound was produced; a dark, misshapen creature wearing dingy-rusty armor dashed by in the undergrowth so fast that she had nearly missed seeing it, yet instinctively knew what it was supposed to be… Even in the absence of Sarah’s Fixed Logrus imprinting, it was like she had developed a kind of psychic scar-tissue from where it had been removed, for the remnants of the Labyrinth were still present ‘in there’. But there were other odd sights as well, ones in which she wasn’t entirely sure what was the work of her mind and what was not: she thought she’d spotted a green-and-black striped tiger perched up in an enormous oak tree not fifty feet from where she was, taking a nap!

However, one of the ‘sights’ on the way down that Sarah did not doubt her senses on was the long marble mausoleum and cenotaph erected to Prince Corwin. Even knowing that he yet lived – at least she hoped he was still breathing and being witty and scarily skilled somewhere off in Shadow – the sight of that tomb carved with his first name so prominently displayed, the monument half-buried in weeds and overgrowing ivy, beginning to erode with time – was enough to send a chill down her spine. It was a somber reminder that even the near-immortal could still die, and two marble benches stood at the ready just outside of it, as if to accommodate the curious pilgrim while he or she contemplated this precise fact… and they were in excellent company, if rumor was to be believed: the prince himself was said to come up here and get plastered on rare occasion! Whether or not the rumor was true, the evidence for someone doing it was there: shards of glass bottles glittered brightly up at her from the entrance. Sarah chose to believe – the idea fit well enough with what she knew of the errant prince’s morbidly quirky sense of humor. That and the simple yet telling fact that most of the entertaining gossip that filtered to the Courts from Amber via the old spy system seemed to almost always feature the prince somehow (at least it had seemed that way from the scraps of information Mandor and Suhuy used to drop during her tenure on the far side of existence): either Chaos was seriously worried about what the man might portend or otherwise be capable of, or else the initial contact thought he was funny for a Patterner and kept sending home good stories. Probably both.

Sarah also had the distinctly creepy feeling that the serpentlike creatures she kept spotting up in the understory canopy coiled around the branches of those massive old-growth trees were real, too; practically any time she felt watched all she had to do was visually follow the direction of the sensation to be met with golden or jade or even lavender slit-pupilled reptilian eyes, staring down at her like she was breakfast! Again she found herself wishing that the Bright Lady was not so far ahead – there She went around the turn, a flash of a light-green hood and a white hand four flights down – then reminded herself that a Power didn’t have to wait for anyone. To her human sensibilities it still seemed a little strange, though, considering the dangerous fauna that might or might not be scattered about them in the Forest. Was she really-

A blue-feathered serpent larger than an anaconda took its chances and dropped onto the staircase right in front of Sarah! At least that’s what the creature had meant to do – what really happened was that it fell straight through the shimmering risers to the forest floor below with a muffled thud and ceased to move; it had all happened so quickly that Sarah hadn’t even had the time to scream in alarm! Shaking all over, she tentatively put one foot onto the next riser: it held, same as all the rest.

She continued on at a sprint, taking them two at a time where possible, determined not to wait around to become snake food – that had been too close! The Logrus of course no longer aided her bodily strength, but the psychological side of Sarah’s physical conditioning aided her in subliminating her natural, instinctual fear clear out of existence in seconds flat. Perhaps the Lady was hurrying her along with purpose after all… In spite of the warm season yet being upon the True World, the morning was still rather brisk out here; Sarah was only consciously noticing the natural temperature just now – perhaps it had more to do with the fact that they were gradually lowering into the Forest proper, where it was usually about ten-to-fifteen Fahrenheit degrees cooler than the world surrounding it all the time, save in winter when it was slightly warmer. It was surprisingly easy for her to lose track of what her current external conditions really were, with all of her stimuli currently muffled like it was: the world was a cotton-candy colored dream straight out of Willy Wonka, everything a pastel of what it should’ve been, glittering mists flowing in and receding back in ambient waves, like a ‘marine layer’ from some unfathomable mythic shore…

An hour and several hundred steps later, the forest floor was within reach: the opalescent staircase terminated with a pair of gaudily-carved banister ornaments – busts of unicorns, to scale! The Lady seemed pleased with them as She stood there at the base, waiting for Sarah to disembark. The girl slowed, catching her breath, and heavily jogged down the last few risers, then just stood there, panting, resting her palms on her thighs for a moment as she recovered herself. The Dreamstone swung like a pendulum with her leaning forward like that; Sarah caught the Lady’s unusually intense scrutiny of the object. Greedy, almost…

“Even though it has not the power of its original, best not to wear it for too long,” She suddenly admonished her.

Straightening up again with an affirmative nod, Sarah raised the hefty chain up over her head ever-so-carefully –

Deep colors, dark lighting conditions, and rich forest fragrances suddenly assaulted her senses the very moment the necklace was off! The shockingly abrupt change in stimuli threw her for a second – although admittedly not as long as it would’ve thrown a normal human, whose nervous system had not been accustomed to both shadow-travel as well as Chaos-spectrum. She readjusted quickly enough as she wrapped the Stone-and-chain back in the material sack, stashing it in her carryall. She also noted that the Lady’s more normal disinterested level of hauteur had reasserted itself; without a word, She struck out again, following no trail, yet true as compass and with a perfect confidence that superceded faith. Even on relatively level ground, Sarah found Her hard to keep pace with; the Lady’s stride was long and quick due to her height alone even in this form.

And wow did She ever seem like Mother Nature, Lady of the Forest incarnate out here in Her green cloak; She required no diadem or indeed any other outward mark to set Her apart as who She really was, as far as Sarah was concerned. After a time, She began to point out various species to the girl; to Sarah’s small comfort, the green tigers turned out to be real, too, but even for a human visitor they tended to be more languid in the early-to-mid-morning, being largely nocturnal hunters. Small, green dragonlike creatures flitted and soared short distances below the rainforest-thick canopy, roughly calling to one another like the birds they were distantly related to, as brightly-colored feathered serpents in a rainbow of hues sparsely decorated the tree limbs or hunted small prey on the forest floor. The Lady was quick to teach Sarah how to differentiate the poisonous ones from the constrictors – ostensibly for her future knowledge, for when she would come back this way at the end of her quest – but from the quiet urgency the Lady could not entirely train out of Her voice, Sarah had to wonder. Her Companion even plucked a young constrictor with iridescent cobalt feathers – like Her eyes – from a low branch and draped him over Her shoulders for a time like an ornament, showing Sarah how to stroke him!

“Many of these constrictor species actually enjoy tactile stimulation such as this,” She explained, “even as full-grown adults. There are Amberites yet living who have saved their lives by knowing this, using it to their advantage when only mildly snared by one. But it would be unwise of you to over-tempt a creature of even this size – observe.” The Lady clearly had the strength to spare, but it obviously took a considerable amount of it to pry him back off of Her again; gently placing him upon the ground at the base of another tree, the serpent glided up and around the bole like quicksilver, coming back around to the front to flick his tongue out, sniffing them as they walked away.

The exotic big cats and reptiles seemed to favor the Mountain; they were soon replaced with much more mundane species by Shadow Earth standards, the canopy gradually filling with songbirds and small, furry arboreal rodents instead. A female deer suddenly bounded by ahead of them, followed by two adolescent males, their stubbed velvet-covered horns still growing in. Bright-red foxes with unnervingly intelligent eyes peered out at them from their hidden vantage points in the thick undergrowth. Rays of golden sunlight picked through the leaves in thin, stringlike shafts. The entire place had an almost holy feeling to it, even the parts that felt dangerous to her – more of a wild, pagan version of holiness that cared not a jot for civilized, over-evolved Mankind. And yet it was rather compelling all the same in a strange, bittersweet way. The strongly pervasive resinous scent of enormous pine, ancient maple, and gold-tinged oaks certainly incensed the air adequately for the analogy, a precious few old souls easily as tall as giant sequoia; the Lady paused to touch these ones’ boles in passing, encouraging Her young human companion to do the same, showing her how to draw physical strength from them to refresh her own.

“Only take a little from each one, and be careful to give out feelings of honest thanks in return,” She cautioned. “You must yet respect them; they have been here since the dawn of Time, these the first of My mother-trees - and they will long outlive you also.”

A little further on in a small idyllic gladed clearing off to their right, a small, bright patch of pure-white caught Sarah’s eye: it was the cutest little bunny-rabbit she had ever seen in her entire life!

“Look!” she whispered, not wanting to startle it, pointing.

The Lady’s own reaction was not one of joy, but rather an oddly muted interest; she caught Sarah’s arm tightly, keeping her from sneaking any closer. The girl’s glance back of surprised confusion was met with one of stern warning…and a small lip-smile.

“She is stalking prey,” the Lady murmured, pointing also – to a fawn Sarah had failed to spot initially, grazing in the nicely cool morning shade of the glade! Sarah could scarcely believe what she was seeing as Fluffy crept up closer and closer from behind, until it was only five feet away from the creature: without any warning at all, the rabbit silently made a massive jump into the air and landed on the fawn’s back, sinking its razor-sharp incisors into its victim’s neck! The fawn seemed to be instantly paralyzed, frozen terror marring its innocent features, as it simply fell over on its side, stiff as a board! Fluffy commenced her gory feast!

Sarah just stared in dumb shock – and the Lady seemed satisfied, gently pulling her onward once more. “That was awful!” she openly exclaimed, sounding as if she were about to cry. “How does that not even bother You?!”

The Lady didn’t so much as spare her a glance, yet released her arm as She kept on walking. “The deer eat the shoots of all the young trees as fast as they develop,” she explained. “If too many of the animals live to adulthood, the Forest itself can become stunted for decades in certain areas. All life must be balanced in order for it to thrive; you know this,” She concluded reprovingly.

It doesn’t make it any less cruel, Sarah thought indignantly, plodding along behind Her, not caring that She could probably hear her anyway.

Cresting a small hill, their way met up with a well-worn thin trail, and to Sarah’s surprise the Lady took it, veering them slightly off-course from true north, yet still headed in a generally northerly direction. Pausing for a moment, She seemed to listen for something, giving the wind an animalistic sniff like a horse might, then turning and signing Sarah silent before continuing on. Strange behavior for an all-powerful goddess, Sarah thought again; why was She so…

The thought died instantly at the sight of the lounging manticore only half-hidden in the undergrowth not a hundred feet from where they were!

A real one! Sarah thought in alarm – not one of those outrageous robots she had seen before, but an actual living beast with a legendarily voracious appetite! And she had to admit that it did have a certain smell… then she remembered herself and quieted her breathing, tiptoeing on after her perfectly silent Guide. Thankfully the creature was still preoccupied with ripping asunder and devouring the remains of other fresh prey and paid them no heed.

Was this the real reason the Lady had refused to summon any kind of mount for them to ride, even to save time? Lack of stealth, on a number of levels? The more Sarah thought about it, the more certain parts of the prospect seemed increasingly bizarre. If none could sense them unless it was willed so, then why the elaborate evasive maneuvers? Did it have to do with Her not being able to directly use Her power on Sarah now, because of the Stone? And if this was the case, then why did She even bother to tell her all that in the first place?

Unless parts of what she’d been told were an outright lie…

A hunting horn intruded on her thought – Prince Julian! The Forest of Arden had been, for all practical purposes, his private domain ever since the ill-fated ‘regency’ of Prince Eric, and King Random had allowed him to stay out here, ostensibly to patrol the borders for dangerous shadow-beasts since the man was already a passionate adept at big-game sport hunting, but really to keep him just far enough from Amber-proper to keep the two half-brothers from dangerously getting on each others’ nerves. The grandsons of Dworkin Barimen and the strange, beautiful creature Sarah was currently pursuing were not unlike Japanese Fighting Fish when forced to spend too much time in close quarters with one another, even if they could maintain good terms at a distance.

No, like those green tigers, she thought, remembering how ridiculously territorial the adult males could be on Shadow Earth, not wanting another male about for miles in any direc-

The horn’s silvery notes sounded again from much closer, followed by the gradually increasing sounds of barking and baying hounds… his Hellhounds! Sarah involuntarily shivered: there was something about a canine hybrid that could strip and chew up chrome from a moving automobile! Gracious, did that bring back bad memories of a different sort of ‘animal’!

The Lady froze in her tracks – then abruptly vanished into thin air!

“Climb that maple! Quickly!” Her disembodied voice barked in Sarah’s ear! The girl was too nervous to question the order and scarcely even thought to notice the boost she got, elevating her up to the first strong branches, climbing higher and higher, trying to get out of sight, feeling a sinking dread for what she felt sure was coming!

The hounds cleared the ridge; she counted about forty or so of them! True to the reports, they resembled nothing so much as a monstrous pack of wolves interbred with alien greyhounds as they ran at full speed into the clearing where Sarah and the Lady had been only moments earlier… but it looked so strange: it was as if they were trying to attack something none of them could see, yet still sensed some other way…

Were they after the Lady?! Even more astounding was the result: several of them fell about convulsing as if they had been hit with high voltage! More literally flew to bits on the other side, and others still foamed at the mouth, attacking their fellows senselessly, clearly crazed out of their wits! And yet more and more kept on coming – and by the changing sound, horsemen were approaching, too! Some of the new-come beasts dark coats were quickly singed with a pale-green fire… green?!

Ohmygosh… No wonder it had seemed so itchingly familiar to Sarah: those were Chaosian defensive spells for use against a biologically-based physical attacker! She’d be prepared to swear to it! She’d wager her life that she was right at this moment!

The figure that rematerialized was definitely not the Lady – what the hell was it?! The genderless flameform burned just like Mandor could, very tall and elongated, almost partially feline in shape, but the incindation was a brilliant violet, not the familiar green! Only those impossibly cobalt-blue eyes remained, glowing – they burned straight up at Sarah!

“I must draw them off to give you a chance to escape!” the Voice crackled and boomed at her, still in English! “You know what you must do! My Pattern granted you sufficient power before – use it! Do not even think of failing Me, of returning here without him! Serve Me well and be richly rewarded for the remainder of your natural lifetime!”

The figure shifted and flowed like lava before her very eyes, turning into a gigantic demonic-looking black ram the size of a horse with blazing eyes, before shooting off into the forest, striking sparks high from its cloven hooves, making the grasses smoke and smolder in its wake while the remaining hale Hellhounds gave chase with their characteristic supernatural speed, heedless of their fallen!

The Lady – whatever She was – had missed the hunters by mere seconds: five mounted riders, four wearing the prince’s tabard over their scalemail – a leaf-bare white tree on a field of black – swiftly galloped down to the ruined hounds; three of them immediately set off to follow the fresh tracks, but two stayed behind, one of them spearing the remaining struggling animals, ending their suffering. His companion looked much younger, almost too young to even be in the party, and neither was the youth uniformed. The back of a long fitted-and-belted white-enamel-baked scalemail jerkin gleamed up at Sarah, along with carefully tied back sable hair…

“With all due respect, Mistress, we should be returning to camp,” the older man addressed the youth. “The prince would not want you chasing a quarry as dangerous as that,” he pointed with his bloodied spear off into the distance; bits of the foliage had been charred as well!

But the girl tossed her dark-haired head defiantly. “Father still coddles me as if this world were yet new to me!” she petulantly exclaimed. “What beast thinks he I cannot yet handle? I have delivered the death-blow to manticora!”

“That is no manticore and you know it,” the man warned direly, turning back to face her. “Forgive me for having to say this, Mistress, but the hounds know Chaosian fireblood when they smell it; the constant smell of their Master about you is all that keeps some of them from turning on you! There are still too many animals yet living that were trained to attack only a certain breed of foot soldier in the War to brush this incident aside as a fluke – you saw how they responded at the merest whiff. Look about us, how many were killed! All the evidence is here; whatever it portends, may it not threaten the Concord!”

Sarah had first suspected, but now she was certain: it was Sarilda Barimen! That had to be her original down there! She crouched down, leaning in closer on the branch she clung to for a better look.

“You should probably go and join the others, then; they will need every last man they can get if they can get close at all,” the girl replied. “I wish to search for clues here before returning – even with my hands ‘tied’, so-to-speak, I can still feel the Power, discern its forms – and I would accomplish this work best alone. I may be able to find some identifying trace here that you all would be blind to otherwise, while the deployed spells used are yet fresh in the environs. If you hurry you might still catch the hunt.”

“Mistress, you know my orders-”

“Oh, hang your orders, Sir Dravin!” she snapped haughtily. “I am fourteen and no longer a child! And soon will I be a Duchess of Amber! I know enough to not harm myself out here, and unlike her – yes, I can tell it is a female they are tracking, even from up here in my saddle – I cannot ever escape to true freedom in Shadow; you yourself have witnessed my…shackles,” she glanced down at herself ruefully for a moment. “If you see Father, tell him I won’t be long – yes, I know, he will be angry with me,” she sighed, partially deflating. “One would think that he would be used to me by now… oh, don’t be like that; I’m not sending you away because I dislike you,” she sidled up to the irritated knight. “I still need your protection from those pigs of men in his camp,” she rolled her eyes, “just not here. You can mention that, too,” she smirked. “And I can tell you positively that whatever she was trying to do here, she won’t come back this way – she had no intention to. I can tell.”

The middle-aged, fair-haired knight held her bright-green eyes for a moment, then smirked conspiratorially himself with a quiet chuckle, nodding.

“Let me survive your adolescence, please Sarilda?” he flirted with her, then gave an order to his steed and charged away down the blackened path, leaving her alone with the corpses of the Hellhounds.

Sarah watched as her still-younger original nimbly dismounted, leading her grey horse away from the carnage and giving her the command to stay, rather like one would a dog; the beautiful Arabian immediately knelt where it was, sitting down before nibbling at the grasses! Her rider retrieved a crossbow with a handful of bolts and a long hunting knife from her saddlebag before returning to the scene of the slaughter, scrutinizing the ground, tracing little ciphers into it with the tip of her blade, watching the marks alter on their own. She carefully bled one of each of the differently-killed hounds that were still intact enough to do so, working more sigils with the blood, with their hides – all ‘passive’ rites, just to see the resultant reactions, like an occult ‘science experiment’; there were more than a few distinct results, one of which was a small momentary combustion of violet flame! Once she had completed this, she studied the entrails of the exploded animals; she was, in fact, finding more than a few links in the chain, so-to-speak. But…

She suddenly froze where she was crouched, then smoothly readied a bolt to the crossbow – and spun around with Sarah in her sights, prepared to fire!

“No! Don’t shoot, Sarilda, please!” her shadow-self screamed in alarm – in English by mistake! Damn! Sarah rapidly spit out the phrase again in Thari, adding, “It’s me, Sarah!”

Sarilda dubiously stalked over to the base of the maple, her weapon still raised and ready.

“Who did you say you were?” she peered up into the darkness of the thick leaves.

“Sarah Williams, you know, the shadow of yours that’s stupid enough to risk my neck for yours when you would’ve killed me without a second thought! The one you dragged with you through the blasted Jewel of Judgment after I gave you the power to protect yourself! The one you tried to trip at your own sentencing after I testified favorably on your behalf, you little brat!” She suddenly laughed in spite of herself. “I can’t believe it, but I’m actually sort of glad to see you. Although I’d be happier if you weren’t pointing that thing at me.”

“Sarah! Is it truly you? What in the worlds are you doing here?!”

“We ask each other that question way too often,” Sarah answered levelly, “but I’d rather try to explain it face-to-face than shouting from up here so goodness-knows-what-else can hear, too. Permission to come down without being shot to death?”

Sarilda put down the crossbow and whistled over her horse. “I take it you had help getting up there,” she called up a bit tersely as Sarah gingerly picked her footholds; this had been a lot easier in the other direction! “The sheer drop at the end could injure you. Try not to fall anyway, but aim for the saddle,” she held her mount steady by the reins.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sarah balked, inching her way around the thick bole. “Are you talking about landing astride or standing?!”

“Standing, you ninny – your bones are too fragile; you’d break your pelvis! And what in Amber are those shoes?!” she laughed, finally getting a good look at what Sarah was wearing!

“Better than those stiff boots,” Sarah ground out, preparing for the circus-like dismount: taking a deep breath, she let go and fell the remaining three-and-a-half feet to the saddle, windmilling her arms wildly to keep her balance before grabbing the trunk in front of her, catching her breath, while the horse danced a bit, startled, voicing an ear-piercingly high whinny!

“Easy there, Banshee, steady girl,” Sarilda calmed her; Sarah crouched where she was and awkwardly let herself down off the side of the horse while her original disarmed and repacked the crossbow and knife in the saddlebag, warily eying Sarah with a rather high level of suspicion.

“I know, I came in with really bad company, but I swear I didn’t know until you did – damn, she was good at that act!”

“What act?” Sarilda pressed dubiously. “You’d better let me in on what happened to you, telling me being in your best interests for survival at the moment. There’s still a price on your head in the City like there is for any other Chaosian spy who’s stupid enough to be caught and positively identified.” She suddenly smiled seriously. “If I were to incapacitate you and turn you over to Uncle Random, I could collect it myself; the reward isn’t shabby, considering that he’s in on the ruse.”

Under any other circumstances, Sarah would have been highly frightened by an idea like that, but in reality such an interview might actually serve her rather well, with the way things were beginning to look… except that she had no idea what the king would be forced to do, should she be ‘captured’ so publicly. Jail her for the remainder of her life at least, more probably execute her. Even in desperation, that avenue was closed.

“If you’ve got information to offer against your personal safety, you’d better ‘fess up now,” Sarilda crossed her arms lightly against the scalemail jerkin; any more armor would’ve been too heavy for her lithe, still-growing form.

Black-and-white, Sarah distractedly thought for a second, looking down slightly at her original: the tight-fitted cotton shirt and riding trousers that she wore beneath the partial maille suit were both black, as were her knee-high leather riding boots, and she also sported a white cape which was clasped to the shoulders of the armor with steel ornaments made to look like clutched falcon talons. Why is it always black-and-white? Sarah exhaled. It was obviously cards-on-the-table time, whether she liked it or not. And she certainly did not appreciate being threatened like this, either. Still…

“If I show you this, you’re going to have to swear up and down that you’re not going to try to touch it – I honestly have no idea what would happen to it if you do.”

Sarilda’s thin, dark eyebrows raised. “It’s that serious?”

Sarah nodded solemnly.

Her original paused for a moment, but easily conceded, closing her eyes. “I so swear by She whom I carry about with me until His Exalted Excellency King Merlin releases me from Her grasp.” She opened them again. “That good enough?” she fired back a little saucily.

Yeah, this is going to be a barrel of fun, Sarah thought, furtively glancing about to make certain that they were actually alone. Swallowing, she extracted her ill-gotten prize for her original’s perusal, watching the girl’s jaw drop as her eyes bulged in disbelief.

“By the Dark Lady! However did you come by that? Where did you even find it?!” she anxiously pressed.

“Would you believe Tir-na Nog’th? I snatched it straight off the phantom king’s neck,” Sarah carefully answered; it was technically correct.

“But how – oh…” Sarilda answered her own question. “I suppose the pertinent question would be how did she know. I never even knew that item existed; I think even my mother doesn’t know of this, or she would’ve told me. We knew of the copy in Rebma, but it was too closely… Sarah, what is it? What’s wrong?” she noted her elder shadow-self’s sudden deep grief; it almost looked unnervingly like guilt.

Sarah put the Dreamstone away before anything could happen to it. She couldn’t look her younger-self in the eye.

“Sarilda… I don’t know how to… tell you this, but-”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare!” the girl snapped defensively, instinctively frightened. “I yet have enough Chaos blood left in me to know when I’m about to be lied to!”

“My mother’s dead, too, thanks for asking!” Sarah snapped back at her. “I thought you might want to know so you could grieve her properly!”

“Who told you this lie?” Sarilda pressed through gritted teeth, advancing on her menacingly.

“Her,” Sarah glanced back at the dead hounds. “Even now – maybe especially now – I figure she’d know, if she’s really working for Chaos. In which event, I am really and truly royally screwed here on top of everything else.”

Sarilda stared away numbly – silent for almost two minutes – before abruptly remounting her horse, holding her right hand down to Sarah; she gave a hoarse, bitter-sounding laugh.

“Dworkin named you rightly, Shadow: a rook indeed – a bird of ill-tidings, omens, and suspect council. You are what you are. Get on, then, behind me.”

“I don’t know how to ride!”

“Just hang onto me and don’t fall off! How hard is that?” she chided her, roughly helping her climb up behind her in the saddle; it was a tight squeeze. Lightly digging her heels into the stirrups, they were off at a rather quick canter that was just this side of a full gallop – it would be if she gave Banshee anymore head; the horse seemed a natural racer!

“Where are you taking me?”

“You really are a lousy spy if you missed hearing all that!” Sarilda called over her shoulder at her. “Back to my father’s camp, of course – I’ll have to sneak you in. I’ll bet you even missed Sir Dravin putting on his best move!”

“You – you and that guy?! You can’t be serious! He looks old enough to be your father!”

“He is at that!” Sarilda unexpectedly laughed. “I think my presence there is becoming something of a deadly trial for Father’s men. Dravin’s all right, though; he looks, but he’d resign his post before daring to so much as kiss me on the cheek. Although the reason I know is because he’s joked about doing it once…”

Sarilda couldn’t see it, but Sarah just shook her head. The kid knew perfectly well that she was playing with fire, and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself, too thoroughly enjoying the power she wielded to think of the potential consequences of its use. Her elder-and-wiser self sincerely hoped those consequences would never get to be too serious, too out-of-hand. Too lasting – for both their sakes! There was an odd thought!

On they rode westward through the Forest, green upon green after green flying by around them, the sounds of the birds, the pervasive smell of life, getting a little humid, actually – hopefully the weather would hold. Sarah hoped upon hope that Sarilda had any inkling at all of what she was about here, or else she was about to be literally delivered into the midst of an armed camp that would be none too pleased to see her! Julian would recognize her in an instant! Soon enough there were canvas tents on the horizon.

“Hide yourself as best you can under my cape,” Sarilda instructed Sarah, “I’m going to try something.”

Feeling very dubious about this, Sarah did as she was bade, scrunching down as far as she could go under the warm, fine fabric; whatever ruse this was, she hoped it wouldn’t last too long – she had only just assumed the odd posture and her back was already killing her from it, and it was sort of suffocating in there besides! Not being able to see, she could only hear and feel when Sarilda slowed, reaching what must’ve been the sentry checkpoint to enter…

And almost leapt out of her skin at the sight of the huge, black, anaconda-like coils of the Logrus constricting about the thin torso she’d been clutching and crunched against for dear life! It was far closer quarters than she had ever wanted to share with Her presence again, and from the exuded feelings of general savage animosity pointedly directed back at Sarah the sentiment still appeared to be mutual, but there was nothing that she could do about it at present! She could feel Sarilda’s body suddenly clench in a spasm as if she were in pain – and it belatedly dawned on her that she couldn’t hear a single word that had to be being exchanged out there! She couldn’t hear anything! Moments later, those ominous coils visibly relaxed – Sarah could swear she had felt the Serpent laugh, a genuinely spooky, alien sort of response – and Sarilda panted in relief as the world audibly switched on around them again.

“I’m going to use the back shortcut to get to Father’s cabin,” Sarilda whispered. “Hold tight just a little longer.”

Sarah did her best to neither breathe nor asphyxiate while scrunched into a position which she was quickly becoming convinced that it would take a medical crew to unpack her vertebrae from, but at last the horse stopped moving and her original dismounted over her.

“This way – hurry!” Sarilda held out her arms to catch her – and it was a good thing she did because Sarah literally fell into them! Limping sorely, unable to straighten out her back, Sarah let her younger self rush her out of what appeared to be a private stables for only two horses – hers and the prince’s legendary Valkyrie mount, the Morgenstern, who was thankfully out still with his master; the beast had always hated Sarilda, seeing her as a recent interloper and unfair competition for both Julian’s attention and affection! They ran through the thick wooden back door, down a long hallway – polished hardwood everywhere, sparse masculine decoration – up a flight of stairs, down another tighter hallway and into a bedroom. Her bedroom; it had to be. The square footage was modest, yet more spacious that even the ‘guest apartment’ that Mandor had set up Sarah in – sans the attached modern bathroom, of course: there was a washstand with a basin and pitcher instead (obviously no running water here – she shouldn’t have been surprised.) There were notably no windows; the only current light came from a smoldering fireplace. The furnishings in here were all natural, and yet there was something undeniably dark about the décor in the girl’s room: various small, painstakingly reconstructed animal skeletons artfully graced the top of a bookshelf, bright snake-feathers accented saurian-leather pillows and wall hangings, to say nothing of the black volcanic stone fireplace that had to have been imported from Shadow. The rugs covering the smooth hard floor were black furs; even the bedspread was one, although it was far thicker and shaggier – Sarah had a hard time even imagining what kind of beast it could’ve been made from!

Sarilda both closed and locked the door, dropping the simple iron bolt into place, physically sagging in relief.

“What did you do back there?” Sarah spread herself out onto one of the floor rugs, they looked so inviting – gracious it was soft! – and proceeded to try to stretch out the kinks in her spine.

Sarilda crossed the room and promptly plopped down on the bed face-first, then rolled over onto her side. “I made it so the guard on duty wouldn’t see you – just a minor bit of magic-based hypnotism, really; fairly harmless even for the ‘victim’, easy to work under natural circumstances. But you wouldn’t begin to believe just how difficult it was for me to pull that off,” she rubbed her ribs as if they were sore, then sat up and removed her cape and the hefty layer of scale armor, laying them out flat on a trunk beside the bed on the right-side.

“Oh, somehow I believe it,” Sarah sat up stiffly herself. “Any chance of a ‘water-closet’ being in here?”

Sarilda’s outline pointed beneath the bed. A chamber pot.

“I was afraid of that,” Sarah sighed. “Should’ve just gone in the woods.”

“She was in great haste, wasn’t she?” Sarilda had to smile. “All right, I won’t ask for the whole story right this second. You go ahead; I’ll see if I can put together a couple meals’ worth of rations for you – it won’t be safe to try to move you out again until well after nightfall. If it was just up to me, I’d offer you sanctuary for as long as you need to figure out what to do, but somehow I don’t think my father will take too kindly to the idea of me suddenly having an older twin sister; he wasn’t so keen on the idea of having me,” she grinned deviously – then had a sudden thought. “You’d better change out of that fancy blouse and put on one of mine; most of my regular clothes are here in this trunk,” she got up and took a rush-light to the embers, lighting the candles on the nightstand with it before casting the remains of the primitive match onto the fireplace. “The hounds don’t take too kindly to strangers, either, and we keep a couple in the house sometimes, Cú Chulainn and Lily – guess which one’s mine?” she smirked, crossing the room to the door. “You’ll probably be safer if you cloak yourself in my scent,” she undid the deadbolt, turning the handle-

Only to hear the front door fly open so hard it hit the wall!

“Sarilda! Are you here?!”

It was the prince!

“Be back soon! Get under the bed when you’re finished!” the girl frantically whispered, darting out and closing the door, dashing down the hall, down the stairs, all of her booted footfalls echoing clearly off all those hardwood floors!

At least they didn’t creak. But that didn’t necessarily mean that…

Oh, man… Sarah inched her way across the floor as slowly as she could physically stand, toward relief, terrified of accidentally making any noise that could be heard from below…

Prince Julian had originally meant to stand his ground before his hearth, pacing like one of his hounds before the large downstairs fireplace, and from there roundly scold his daughter for recklessly disobeying him yet again, but his temper got the better of him this time, making him so impatient to face her that he was willing to go wherever she was in the house, if she was here at all. Even though he had only paced to the foot of the main staircase, she still seemed unduly shocked to see him standing there when she turned the corner on the risers, on the halfway landing.

“Am I truly become so predicable, my daughter?” he addressed her coolly; his diction gave him away anyway – it became thicker than usual when he was upset. “May I not freely move about my own house?”

Sarilda forced her nerves to come to rein, casually descending the rest of the demi-flight to the floor. “I thought you preferred the staging of the living room,” she replied every bit as coolly. “At least it seems a little more mytho-stereotypically cultural for a father-figure. Did you catch your quarry?” she sidled past him as if no conversation could be more normal.

This had become too normal for Julian; he caught her firmly by the forearm. “You have not the strength of a full-blooded Amberite to rely upon-”

“And you hate that within me which is Chaosian for any number of rationally suitable reasons – which is it to be today?”

“Stop!” It took all of his willpower to keep from striking her across that chronically impudent mouth of hers! “Do you have any idea how much danger you nearly stepped into today? And without your assigned body guard, who I am putting on extended leave over this outrage?”

“But you can’t disgrace Dravin – he’s too loyal to you!”

“He has become far more loyal to you, my dear,” the prince took on a stern tone of warning, “and I like not the look that comes into his eyes of late when I send him out on duty with you.”

“If a mere look is all that would offend my honor in your eyes, then you would have to publicly besmirch a full third of your squadron! I am nearly a grown woman now – are they all to be punished for not being blind?”

“Do not tempt me,” he ended quietly, “or them.” He released her.

Sarilda stalked resignedly into the main room, seating herself in one of the leather-and-antler chairs, crossing her arms. “Well?” she huffed, looking back at him, knowing that one way or another he would have his say; she knew from experience that it was best to just get it over with. He slowly strode in after her and took up his regular place to stand, in front of the fireplace; he really was that predicable, she thought. Oddly, she found his regularity of habit kind of nice on rare occasions, comforting even. This was not one of them.

“After you so foolishly bid Sir Dravin to join in the hunt for the spy – you will likely be pleased to hear that she got away, leaving so convoluted a trail in Shadow that even I could not tell which was the true path,” he looked up momentarily, “you elected to stay behind, to ‘gather clues’, the knight tells me.”

“And in spite of your continued misgivings about my methods,” she quickly defended herself, “I may have found some choice pieces of information for you, Father.”

Julian’s dark, elegant brows raised ever-so-slightly: he was actually interested in what she might’ve discovered, of course, but he had not finished yet. “Be that as it may, when he returned to the area of the initial confrontation on his way back to camp – to see if you were still there, no less – he came upon a full-grown manticore gorging itself upon the ruined flesh of my hounds! It could have just as easily been you instead!” he proclaimed, towering over her from exactly six feet away.

He just adores towering like that, she thought sarcastically; ever since she’d been a child, he’d been striking that pose, trying to instill some fear of an Order-god in her, or, failing that, of himself. Father.

“Them or me? It would have been them and me,” she glanced across the room at a taxidermied manticore head, the angelic humanoid face at odds with its lion’s mane and row upon row of sharklike teeth. This room was filled to the brim with dead monsters, proof positive that Father could certainly keep the proverbial wolf from the door, even if he allowed something far more dangerous of the canine genus to curl up at his feet in the evenings. “The brutes’ stomachs are bottomless pits.”

Her father was simply at his wits’ end. “How can you care so little about your own welfare?!”

“Would you prefer if we tried to keep me safely under house arrest permanently in the Castle instead of my merely taking lessons there twice a week? As I recall, dear Uncle Random’s solution is still a standing offer for you. At any rate, his tutors refuse to come here and he won’t order them – I’ve already asked, anticipating that possibility.”

“That’s King Random to you,” the prince folded his own arms, “and he demands your respect.”

“‘Deserves’, Father,” she corrected him quietly, something she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing in public.

“He demands it also, and we owe it him; he is a good and fair ruler – no don’t, I am in no mood for this old argument,” he cut her off, sitting across from her, staring at the green tiger rug that lay between them on the floor.

“I know, Father,” Sarilda sighed tiredly. “I know all about it. There are days that I seem to hear of nothing else from you. Is the legal system here really that wonderful for you? That you still live out here and not there?”

Julian’s anger had blown itself out for the most part; he was only studying her now, absently stroking his beard.

“It is still all head-learning,” he seemed to say more to himself than to her – except that she had learned that all of the prince’s soliloquies were meant to be overheard. “I keep waiting for it to come from the heart. Perhaps I expect too much,” he looked away. “Perhaps you cannot, no matter how hard you try. It is not in your nature.”

‘You are not one of us’ – it was an implied statement of fact that had been repeated like a mantra in any number of variations over the past two-plus years of her life. Sarilda Barimen knew that she could never be like the people she saw around her in the Castle, or even here in the Forest. Even if it had not been something closer akin to difference in species, her life experience alone would have singled her out of a crowd: her severe cultlike upbringing, her soldierlike training from a too-tender age. She had never been allowed to truly be a child – she literally didn’t know how to be one – and now that she was finally on the cusp of cultural adulthood (having achieved the physical part over a year ago already), this too was being denied her, even if the thought process behind the decision was not meant to be intentionally cruel toward her in this fashion.

It was something that her father just didn’t understand – couldn’t was more like it – but she couldn’t hate him for it. It was simply too alien for him. She crossed the space between them, kneeling before him on the soft rug.

“I understand that this is your native world and chosen home, and that you both love and protect it. That much is simple, universal. I have always understood that.” It was pointless to wish that he could understand her, even on such a basic level; she had learned that long ago, too.

The prince looked down at her, his expression going a little wryly soft. “I wish you understood that I value your life also, in spite of the difficulties we have faced. I wish that you would value it more yourself, rather than seeing yourself as expendable unless you are accomplishing something world-changingly massive,” he reached out and stroked her hair. “You will live many lifetimes, my daughter. You will have plenty of time to learn about the worlds, about Shadow, about what you are capable of.” He almost never smiled with his mouth, but one stood in his eyes. “One day you will be an end unto yourself. Do not kill yourself before it comes. It is worth the wait.”

Sarilda settled in beside her father’s long legs, letting him stroke her hair as he had done ever since she first came here, as if she were one of his hounds, hoping that Sarah was still all right upstairs for the moment.

Well, maybe I am a little more special to him than Cú Chulainn, she thought: the hound wasn’t even allowed to walk on this rug…

Long and tense were the hours that Sarah was forced to while away in her younger-self’s bedroom, hiding. Uncomfortable as that hard floor was, she had managed to sleep for a time on one of the fur rugs just on the far side of the bed nearer the crackling fire. Upon waking there, her mind drifted, thoughts of somewhere very different jogged by surprisingly similar stimuli. She hadn’t deliberately suppressed her memories and feelings about her time spent in Chaos and its shadows – it just had so little to do with her life on Earth, so few points of intersection, that after a rather short amount of time had gone by she had all but stopped thinking about that part completely. Even now, she had to admit that only portions of the experience had been truly bad, that on the whole it really had been a personally ‘enriching’ visit, as her old guardian had initially dubbed it: the different types of learning, the complex and highly varied culture, and, oh, the food – she forced herself to think of something else; she was terribly hungry as it was. At least there was still water in here, between the little that had been left in her canteen and Sarilda’s supply, which seemed potably clean.

Rolling onto her back, glancing up at the ceiling, Sarah noted an odd collection of trinkets that Sarilda had hung up there just above the mattress. To the casual, uninitiated observer it would’ve only looked like a strange mobile of sorts: bits of bone and feather, shells and rocks, scraps of metal; without even seeing the items up-close, Sarah knew that there would be a little dried blood on some of them. It was a protective talisman, something that would be considered rustic ritual practice in Chaos, along the lines of a piece of magickal folk-art. As much as her faith was probably being actively discouraged (if not outright banned) in her daily life, this was Sarilda’s home culture, her heritage, as much a part of who she was as the America Sarah had grown up in would always be a part of her – only much moreso: Chaos was a society in which life meant rites and rites meant life. They couldn’t hope to totally eradicate something that deeply rooted in her original’s psyche. Sarah had to admit that the girl had made the rest of her personal space match the thing rather nicely, so that it would nearly appear to be just the opposite case – that the eclectic ornament accented the room instead.

Upon getting up, Sarah had quite a time finding any of Sarilda’s clothing that was anywhere close to her size; nearly all of it was too small in one manner or another – the girl was still about the size Sarah had been before her final growth spurt, and she couldn’t have had an ounce of fat on that skinny, athletic body besides. It probably wasn’t as practical a choice as it needed to be, but she finally found a deep-forest-green wrap-skirt that she could lengthen enough in the waist to wear comfortably, and a cream-colored peasant-style blouse that was likely still a little too big for her original, yet fit Sarah like a glove, even if the sleeves came up to almost three-quarters length on her arms; if she rolled them to the elbow, they looked right. With her own shoes on, she thought (with a note of self-deriding amusement) that she looked like an old hippie; it couldn’t be helped. Not sure what to do about her own clothing, she’d folded it down as tightly small as was humanly possible and crammed it into her bag, but it didn’t really fit well, kind of bulging out of the sides, the top flap barely closeable now.

After about fifteen minutes of trying to figure out what she would say to her original upon her return (only to give up because her mind was currently flying in too many directions at once), Sarah wound up perusing her bookshelves for something to distract hersellf instead. She was sitting on the edge of the small uneven hearth reading about big-game fishing in Rebma – a wildly vivid topic she had admittedly not known much about – when she heard the door handle being turned… and remembered Sarilda’s warning! In a flash she was nearly in position, noiselessly scooting under the bed, when something knocked the door open all the way, and, after a split-second of the sounds of paws with nails clicking, a deep growling issued from the creature that stopped short at the foot of the bed, edging forward into the light with its sharp teeth bared: it was a hellhound, with a mottled black-and-olive coat - they all had some slightly exotic coloring to them, breed from a distant shadow that they were! Its ears were flattened as it steadily advanced upon Sarah, who was definitely scared to death at this point and desperately trying not to be – the creatures sensed fear too keenly – but someone else came through the door mere seconds after; it felt a lot longer!

“Lily, heel! Lily? Come here!” It was Sarilda! Her hound instantly changed demeanor, friskily trotting over to her mistress, jumping up on her like the big puppy that she was, tackling her to the floor! The girl laughed and laughed as the wolf-hybrid tried to lick her face off before rolling over, lightly nipping at her arm in play, sniffing the parcel she’d been carrying before trying to bite into it. “No! Off! This is not for you – you just ate!” the girl quickly reprimanded her; the hound whined but obediently let go, backing up a couple paces. “Sorry about that,” Sarilda apologized, getting back up, “you’d better sit in the middle of the bed; she knows she’s not allowed up there,” she advised, closing and bolting the door.

Sarah didn’t have to be told twice – she all but leapt up to safety! The hound’s golden eyes were staring holes into her at present; the beast had lowered her head as she slowly approached again, perfectly silent this time.

“Oh, Lily, calm down already – she’s a friend, see?” A somewhat disheveled Sarilda sat down beside Sarah on the bed, handing her the wrapped parcel. “I couldn’t get away any sooner than this,” she apologized a second time via explanation as Sarah unwrapped the food and ravenously dug into the salted, spiced venison and simple grilled flatbread. “Father insisted on sharing lunch with me, alone, partially so I could give him my findings on your ‘friend’ in private – partly to try to make up for him losing his temper with me again,” she smiled a bit ruefully. “It isn’t exactly the easiest of relationships, but I have heard that I am not the only one to have a difficult time in dealing with him,” she scratched behind Lily’s ears; the animal was as close as she could be without physically touching the bed, still eying Sarah warily. “Better put your bag up here, too – I’d introduce you more normally, but I don’t want her picking up on your clean scent, just in case.”

Sarah leaned over and grabbed it from the other side of the bed where she’d left it on the floor. “At least your father will make an effort to talk to you. Mine always shies away from confrontations of any stripe or color – then again, he isn’t my biological father, either,” she took another bite. Lily was more eagerly eying the meat than the stranger now; Sarilda noticed.

“As tempting as it might be to try to get on her good side, don’t feed her – you’ll never get rid of her,” she warned offhandedly. “I know, though. Patterners seem to equivocate even forced communication with ‘caring’, but it’s never felt that way to me. I would respect him far better if he would simply leave me to my own devices most of the time, now that I am basically acclimated to my surroundings and no longer requiring of a guide to teach me in that manner. Such behavior in an adult is only used with very small children in Chaos; it is simply too babyish for someone of my age,” she shook her head, looking away. “And even when he does listen to me, sometimes it is as if he still cannot hear me; it can get frustrating in a hurry.”

Sarah had sort of been quietly appalled at the girl at first, but the longer Sarilda spoke and Sarah listened, the larger, far-reaching truth that she finally heard stopped her cold. She was stunned.

“Don’t tell me I’ve offended you, too!” Sarilda rolled her eyes… then really saw the older girl’s reaction for what it was. “Sarah, are you all right?”

Her older-self quickly forced a smile. “Of course I am,” she tried to laugh the reaction off; in truth, Sarah wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or cry or just be insulted! “That would’ve been incredibly helpful to know a few years back. I just didn’t know he’d…” She stopped herself short, self-censoring.

“Yes?” Her original was obviously curious, but beneath it lurked a much more serious concern.

“Lord Mandor Sawall – you remember him from your trial?” – Sarilda nodded eagerly – “He never let on that how he was treating me while I was staying with him was strange – not once! It really is sort of incredible to think about in retrospect. And toward the end, when my situation out there all went screwy, he had been acting so… cold, toward me, when really…” She couldn’t finish; her voice would’ve broken on her.

Enlightenment washed over Sarilda’s face. “He had finally commenced treating you like an adult!” she concluded for her. “The emotional context and content is truly that important to you?” she asked almost in disbelief.

Sarah flushed, embarrassed. “I guess it’s not that life-or-death-”

“Yes, it is,” her original rudely interrupted her, dead-serious. “I’m going to have to think long and hard about that, if it really changes the perception of the communication that much. I must also ponder just how a full-blooded Chaos lord learned to do that so effortlessly that the behavior appeared ‘natural’ to you, a native Patterner.”

Sarah did laugh then. “On my home-shadow they’re called ‘self-help books’ – he actually gave me the volume when we finally parted ways since he was through using it and thought parts of it might even be useful to me! Guess I never did get around to reading the last few chapters; the writing style was just so boring, far too dry and clinical. My eyes kept falling shut on me.”

“Accurately informative, yet too unemotional to intellectually connect,” her younger-self amusedly observed. “It was likely penned by a native Chaosian, too, then, and I think I might even be familiar with the subspecies of the author, if what I was taught was correct… but you are distracting me with your past when I need to learn of your present! How did you come to be here again? I must hear everything!”

And, over the course of the next half-hour, Sarilda Barimen did, from the unwelcome supernatural apparition at Sarah’s new residence to her nearly being discovered by the very manticore that Sarilda had only narrowly avoided by getting them both out of that portion of the Forest just in time! Sarah was astounded to hear that the form of transport she had physically endured in traveling to Amber was in all likelihood Chaosian-style shadow-pulling; it was a small miracle that she was still alive and in one piece, let alone in good condition! Even ‘protected’, that had been an incredibly reckless and desperate choice by the Lady, as if She –

…she, Sarah corrected herself…

-was operating under a considerable time constraint to risk Sarah’s life and limbs like that! There followed lengthy conjecture over who in the Courts might’ve had access to that level of confidential knowledge about the Stone, but, as far as either of them could make out, the best House candidate would’ve been Amblerash, and its members were almost exclusively a priest-caste, and relatively politically neutral at that. It was covertly obtained intelligence, obviously, but by whom? The Argent Pattern had plenty of enemies on both sides; it was the logical equivalent of trying to figure out which match in a matchbox had been used to make the whole thing explode into a fireball! A more pertinent question would’ve been who wouldn’t have wanted to see the prince’s multiverse fail, but neither of them could name any candidate at all for that category. The field of suspects for the crime was simply too wide to narrow it down beyond gender. Lily eventually grew bored with listening to the two nearly-identical female voices chatter back-and-forth, and walked over to the fireplace to take a nap after the beast’s rather eventful morning.

Sarah had been right thinking that Sarilda would get this; it was just a little too close for comfort to what had happened before – so close, in fact, that whoever-it-was this time seemed to have been following the Dark Lady’s game-book initially, until things went haywire with the Hunt.

“At least I have almost a full month to fix it,” Sarah sighed, lying back on the shaggy comforter. “What is this made from, by-the-way?”

“A form of shadow-elephant – a young one Father took when I first came to this place. He showed me how to skin the animal and salt its meat to preserve it; we tanned the hide together. I suppose it is his version of a welcoming present,” she stroked the soft, thick fur. “But what makes you think that you have so much time?”

“Tir-na Nog’th only appears once a month at the full of the moon, if it isn’t cloudy.”

Sarilda’s eyes were full of warning as she looked down at her. “Tir-na Nog’th appears every night there is a moon.”

“What?!”

Lily’s ears perked up; she turned to look.

“It’s okay,” Sarah experimentally crooned; the hound calmed back down, settling her head down between her paws.

“Where did you learn that? It is patently false!”

“From… her,” Sarah faltered, “but it sounded so familiar at the time; I’m sure I’d heard it elsewhere before!” she said, careful not to talk too loudly. “Why couldn’t I see it when I was here before, then?”

“You can’t see it down in the City; only from the Peak is it visible – it’s too translucent for the light to carry. Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I think I know what you must’ve been taught: that it is safest to be up there on a clear night, when the moon is full!”

Sarah groaned, closing her eyes, covering them with an arm. “That’s got to be it. Oh, Sarilda, what am I going to do? I feel like such an idiot!” she gave the mattress a little pound with her fist.

“You are not taking it onward to the prince’s neo-Pattern, then?”

“No way!” Sarah looked up at her seriously. “That sounds like the one thing I shouldn’t be doing here – did any of that business sound like a positive thing to you?”

“No,” her younger-self agreed, “but at the same time don’t you think the Prince might know something about this, being so intimately acquainted with the Eye of the Serpent as he is?”

“I wouldn’t stake my life on it; the Jewel of Judgment is such a carefully-guarded state secret that only a very small number of individuals even know just what all that does, and at least three of them are dead now. I seriously wonder if there’s ever been any attempt to test the Dreamstone’s powers at all if they can’t even touch it-”

“A moment: you say that one of Substance is incapable of even holding the Stone?”

“That’s what I was told, but we’ve confirmed that my source is a liar.”

“And presumably Chaos magic could negatively effect it?”

“I guess I wouldn’t be surprised – possibly even the other way around, when you stop and think about it. She wouldn’t get anywhere near the thing, even though she obviously wanted to.”

“I wonder… would you mind getting it out for me again? I wish to see something – nothing magickal, I promise,” she added at Sarah’s look of warning.

Rolling over, Sarah extracted the bundled fabric and sat up to unfold it while Sarilda got up and retrieved a tome from her bookshelf and a hand-held mirror from her washstand.

“Wrap the chain about your hand and wrist several times,” she solemnly instructed her elder-self as she sat back down with the items. “Best to be safe.”

Sarah did as she was told, feeling the strangeness of the artifact climb up her arm in fuzzy tingles like static electricity.

“Try to lay the Stone down on top of this,” she held up a biology book, well off the bed: as Sarah did so, the Stone sank straight through the hardbound cover and thick pages as if they weren’t even there, reappearing out of the bottom once sufficient chain was lowered!

“What the-”

“Just as I thought,” Sarilda pronounced grimly, putting down the book and taking up the mirror, repeating the simple experiment – only this time the Stone passed into the reflection, and an upside-down mirage of it appeared to float above the glass in midair like a hologram! Sarilda quickly removed the mirror.

“Wrap that up tightly and knot it inside the bag right this instant, Sarah,” she rapidly ordered. “Do not take it out again for any reason at all until you have safely gained the worlds of Shadow once more.”

“Why? What does all this mean?” Sarah asked, catching the girl’s sense of urgency as she quickly performed the task without hesitation.

Once the Stone was safely back in the sack, Sarilda told her.

“If you so much as accidentally drop that thing in the True World without it being cloaked in a shadow-object like that, it could drop straight through the ground and fall to the center of the planet and be lost!”

Sarah’s eyes were dinnerplates for a second… then she stuffed the parcel firmly into the very bottom of the carryall, underneath her clothing!

Sarilda eyed the foreign garments ruefully. “I hate to have to bring this up, but you stand a much better chance of making it out of Amber alive without all that – it defeats the purpose of cloaking your scent if you are still so obviously carrying your own about. We’d best burn them in the fireplace – scoot, Lily,” she shooed the hound out of the way, adding more kindling from a seasoned pile of deadfall to the side.

Doubtless she was right, but it didn’t make this any easier. In minutes, Sarah’s button-down blouse and her favorite blue-jeans were going up in flames. She refused to relinquish her sneakers, explaining that the rubberized compounds they were manufactured with would produce toxic fumes if incinerated – that, and Sarilda’s own shoes were a full size too small for her feet.

“I really do wish there was a way I could just talk to the king – I don’t want to take this thing any further from this place than I have to! Only the powers know what could happen to Tir-na Nog’th without it! If the projected outcome for yours truly wasn’t so terrible, I would’ve let you make the reward stater,” she smirked at ‘herself’.

Sarilda suddenly looked as if she were seriously considering something.

“Please don’t tell me I just convinced you to do it anyway!” she nervously laughed.

“There may be a way…” The girl leapt up and grabbed a geography tome, bringing it back over, flipping to a certain section, stopping at…

Kashfa.

“My cousin Rinaldo still rules the shadow-kingdom of Kashfa; I have yet to be allowed to meet him, but I am given to believe that he is a shrewd and just monarch, and well-liked by his subjects besides – which seems to me a much more realistic recommendation. You are familiar with the Golden Circle city-states that Amber holds commerce with?”

“More in theory than in detail or practice, but yes.”

“Make for Kashfa with all due haste, then, and seek political asylum there; in your peculiar circumstances – wishing to return the Stone as you do – I feel certain that the boon would be granted. And if for any reason the negotiations with King Random should go sour, you will have safe-haven and be well-protected until things can be smoothed over with Amber. Here, I’ll tear out the maps for you – no, on second thought take the whole book; I can tell my uncle it dropped out of my saddlebag into a mud puddle and it got ruined if I have to. The kingdom can be shadow-walked to by land since it is landlocked. You… know how to do this?” she inquired half-heartedly, not sure whether to believe such a thing was possible for one not of Substance.

“Yes, technically, but I haven’t had to try it using the Pattern yet; it always felt really awkward with the Logrus.” Sarah shoved down the unwelcome memories of her last botched attempt. ‘No one to catch her’, indeed!

Sarilda looked surprised. “I didn’t even know one could do that with the Logrus!”

“Not easily; I think it’s counter-intuitive for the Power. At least that’s one thing I’ve possibly got going in my favor this time out.”

“Just follow the maps and concentrate on the descriptions, then; I think you’ll make it,” Sarilda nodded. “Rest quietly as much as you can in here today; we’ll make a break for it when Father goes to bed.”

“We?”

“Did you think I was about to turn you loose in these woods at night by yourself?” Sarilda laughed. “You wouldn’t last ten minutes out there! We’ll take Lily to flush out ahead of us, and see if Cú Chulainn will follow her as well – he’s a night animal anyway, being Father’s guard-dog; he’ll be awake, prowling the grounds around the cabin. You should have enough food here for at least two more meals, but I’ll bring more water and an extra cloak from the guards – poor Dravin won’t be needing his for a while,” she glanced away, looking a bit guilty. “I didn’t mean to get him into so much trouble today. I hope he will forgive me when Father reinstates him.”

I’m afraid he will, Sarah thought resignedly. Sarilda really was a little too attractive for her own good at this age; she was going to grow up to be even prettier than Sarah – who suddenly knew how Mandor must’ve felt about Jareth…

“Sarah.”

The girl slowly awoke in a rather strange place… cramped ceiling, nearly curled into a ball on…

A fur. “Sarilda!” she whispered.

“Sarah, it’s time.” Her younger-self helped her ease out from beneath the bed. The fire had been allowed to bank down; bright yellow hound’s eyes met hers in the dark, and a wet nose quickly sniffed her face before the nails clicked away toward the door. Carefully rising, she donned the hooded, black, fine-spun wool cloak that was silently pressed into her arms, and shouldered her bag – heavy with both the scholarly geography tome and her canteen, which had obviously been refilled while she was asleep, not to mention the remaining rations and whatnot. Creeping out of the opened door and down the hallway, down the stairs in the almost nonexistent light of the long, large fireplace in the main room – which was still smoldering fitfully – they managed to silently sneak out the back door again… but Sarilda was carefully to skirt the stables this time, stalking toward the tented area instead.

“What are you-” Sarah had begun to whisper, only to find a hand firmly clamped over her mouth.

“We can’t take my horse, silly – it would be far too obvious when the tracks are discovered!” Sarilda hissed in her ear.

Sarah could not believe the girl’s nerve as she flowed noiselessly through the soldiers’ sector, to the main stables – such as they were – picking out a sturdy-looking cream-colored stallion, feeding him treats as she geared him up; she was leading him by the reins within ten minutes! Helping Sarah to mount up behind her, Sarilda calmly walked him through the camp as if she were just one of the guards on the overnight shift; in the torchlight, Sarah could now see that her younger-self wore the regular livery, if not her armor, so that they would attract less attention.

There was one unendurably tense moment when they had to wait for the sentry, but at last he turned away at the sound of one of the hounds getting into something that they should’ve have been, and went off to investigate.

“Good Lily,” Sarilda whispered back to Sarah with a naughty little smile. “Cú Chulainn, clear!”

The mature male hound had been quickly pacing back-and-forth about their mount’s feet, for how long Sarah wasn’t sure, since he had come to them so quietly; he was a bundle of nerves and sinew, all his muscles quiveringly taut, his huge orange eyes frighteningly intense, feral. At the command, he shot off like a fired bolt, tearing through the undergrowth ahead of them, rapidly outpacing the horse, which was set to galloping at full-speed once they were safely out of earshot of the camp!

If it had not been for the constant threat of various deadly wild animals, the Arden would’ve been a jungle paradise by night, more beautiful than it was by day! The heavily incensed air seemed even healthier by starlight – literally more breathable, if such a thing were possible – the deep greens now a resolute shade of blue where the moonlight peeked down through the canopy, bathing them in a soft, silvery glow.

Tir-na Nog’th, Sarah couldn’t help thinking with regret, I will return to thee what is thine. I promise, she mentally offered up to the coolness and the life that surrounded them like a dream of pagan paradise, not sure who might actually be listening tonight in this place. Did the Unicorn truly haunt these woods? They were far away from the Grove and its shrine, and getting farther by the second…

Within forty minutes they had gained the edge of the forest; Sarah had seen no dangerous animals try to cross their path… but as they came out into the clear moonlight, bloody gore was visibly dripping from Cú Chulainn’s muzzle!

“Good boy,” Sarilda praised him, dismounting; Sarah moved to as well, but the girl stopped her. “Even at a medium canter, you will make much better time than you would on foot – keep the horse.”

“Sarilda! Are you really sure? What do I even do with him?! I’ve never cared for one before!”

“Of course I’m sure – what’s to know? When he’s hungry, let him graze; when he’s thirsty let him drink; when he’s tired, let him rest. Treat him like you treat yourself. The bit is easy to remove and put back in. Cloud won’t try to bite your fingers or stomp on your feet – he’s one of the more patient ones; not much in the way of personality or spirit, but very reliable, a decent first mount. Try to bring him back if you can. If you can’t, well… it wouldn’t be the first time one of our animals has managed to wander away from the camp, never to return. Travel on a little further with him tonight, then wait for the morning and better light to start out in earnest. Try going northeast; you might get there more quickly – it’s all in the book.”

“Sarilda,” Sarah just shook her head, “there’s no way I can ever thank you enough, that I can ever repay this-”

“Oh, come off it,” the girl brushed it aside – then looked up at her seriously. “You did the same for me once, and far more. I’d say we’re pretty much even. Now get out of here; I have to get back to camp before someone realizes that I wandered away!” she laughed. “No, Cú Chulainn, don’t follow the horse – stay with me now, good boy! Come on, let’s go home,” she was saying as Sarah unsteadily urged Cloud forward gently with her heels as she had seen Sarilda do, doing her best to stay in the saddle as she white-knuckled the reins in her grasp, hoping he knew the meaning of the Thari word for ‘whoa!’

This was obviously going to take a lot of practice…
____________________________________________________________________________________________
King Mandor the First of Tir-na Nog’th irritatedly stood in the bedroom of his sleeping terrestrial rival Random Barimen; while he had been capable of opening the safe by sympathetic magic, he was unable to physically grasp the Jewel of Judgment which lay before him. His translucent hands just kept slipping straight through the gold setting…