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Curve and continuing right on through the wall of flames as if this represented no problem whatsoever.
While I took the vision as a piece of advice, I was reminded of a David Steinberg routine which Droppa
had once appropriated. I hoped that the Pattern was not into practical jokes.
The flames enveloped me fully as I commenced the Curve. I continued to slow as my efforts
mounted. Step after painful step I drew nearer to the Final Veil. I could feel myself being transformed into
an expression of pure will, as everything that I was became focused upon a single end, Another step . . .It
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felt as if I were weighted down with heavy armor. It was the final three steps that pushed one near
despair's edge.
Again . .
Then came the point where even movement became less important than the effort. It was no longer
the results but the attempt that mattered. My will was the flame; my body, smoke or shadow. . . .
And again . . .
Seen through my risen blue light, the orange flames which surrounded Coral became silver-gray
spikes of incandescence. Within the crackling and the popping I heard something like music once
again-low, adagio, a deep, vibrant thing, like Michael Moore playing bass. I tried to accept the rhythm,
to move with it. Somehow, then, it seemed that I succeeded-that, or my time sense became distorted-as
I moved with a feeling of something like fluidity through the next steps.
Or maybe the Pattern felt it owed me a favor and had eased up for a few beats. I'll never know.
I passed through the Final Veil, faced the wall of flame, suddenly orange again, and kept going. I
drew my next breath in the heart of fire.
Coral lay there at the Pattern's center, looking pretty much as she had when last I had seen her-in a
copper shirt and dark green breeches-save that she appeared to be sleeping, sprawled there upon her
heavy brown cloak. I dropped to my right knee beside her and laid my hand upon her shoulder. She did
not stir. I brushed a strand of her reddish hair off her cheek, stroked that cheek a few times.
"Coral?" I said.
No response.
I returned my hand to her shoulder, shook her gently.
"Coral?"
She drew a deep breath and sighed it out, but she did not awaken.
I shook her a bit harder. "Wake up, Coral."
I slipped my arm beneath her shoulders, raised her partway Her eyes did not open. Obviously she
was under some sort of spell. The middle of the Patterb was hardly the place to summon the Sign of the
Logrus if one wished to remain unincinerated. So I tried the storybook remedy. I leaned forward and kiss
her. She made a small, deep noise, and her eyelids fluttered. But she did not come around. I tried again.
Same result.
"Shit!" I remarked. I wanted a little elbowroom for working on a spell like this, a place where I had
access to some of the tools of my trade and could call upon the source of my powers with impunity.
I raised her higher and commanded the Pattern to transport us back to my apartment in Amber,
where herty'iga -possessed sister lay in a trance of her own-one of my brother's doing, for purposes of
protecting me from her.
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"Take us home," I said aloud, for emphasis.
Nothing happened.
I employed a strong visualization then and backed once more with the mental command.
We didn't stir.
I lowered Coral gently, rose, and looked out across the Pattern through the faintest area of the
flames.
"Look," I said, "I just did you a big favor, involving lot of exertion and considerable risk. Now I
want to go the hell out of here and take the lady with me. Will you please oblige?"
The flames died down, were gone, for several beats. In the diminished light which followed I became
aware that the Jewel was pulsing, like the message light on a hotel phone. I raised it and stared into it.
I hardly expected an X-rated short feature, but that's what was playing.
"I believe I'm receiving the wrong channel," I said. "If you've got a message, let's have it. Otherwise,
I just want to go home."
Nothing changed, save that I became aware of a strong resemblance between the two figures in the
Jewel and Coral and myself. They were going at it on a cloak at what appeared to be the center of a
Pattern, flagrante ad infinitum-rather like a spicier version of the old salt box label, it seemed, if they could
be seeing into the jewel the guy was wearing and watching. . . .
"Enough!" I cried. "This is fucking ridiculous! You want a Tantric ritual I'll send you some
professionals! The lady isn't even awake-"
The Jewel pulsed again, with such intensity that it hurt my eyes. I let it fall. I knelt then, scooped
Coral up, and stood.
"I don't know whether anyone's ever walked you backwards before," I said, "but I don't see why it
shouldn't work."
I took a step in the direction of the Final Veil. Immediately the wall of flame sprang up before me. I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]