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prove valuable or useful once I understood it better. I'd ask Dad and Freda
about it.
Ish pointed at the Pattern again. "Walk?"
"I already walked it twice."
"Dworkin walk," he insisted. "Oberon walk."
I stared. "My father walked it?"
"Walk."
"Not this time. I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but I'm
not taking any orders from you." I pointed the sword at him. "Leave.Now ."
He tilted his head to the side, clearly confused. Then his body flattened and
folded into itself almost like a piece of paper. In a second, he had vanished.
I let out the breath I had been holding. I had never seen anything like that
before& and I was pretty sure he hadn't used the Logrus or the Pattern.
Stepping forward, I swung my sword through the place he had been standing
just to make sure he hadn't turned invisible. He reallyhad gone. Hopefully he
wouldn't find his way back again. We couldn't have strangers poking around the
Pattern& even unarmed, hairless white giants.
Sheathing my sword, I took a deep breath. What now?
The Pattern shimmered.
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The sky overhead almost glowed, the deepest, most perfect azure I had ever
seen.
I pulled out Dad's Trump and tried it again, but got no response. Then I
tried Freda. She answered immediately, and her image was as clear and sharp as
if she stood next to me.
Quickly I told her what had happened.
"Do not touch the spikard again," she told me. "It is dangerous." How?
"It is tied to the Keye "
"The what?"
"The Keye& " She hesitated. "It is ancient, like the Logrus, and very
powerful. There is no time to explain. Father must not ask the Feynim for help
or protectio "
"Whoa! The Feynim? Who are they?"
She knotted her hands. "They are ancients. Older than Chaos. You must stop
him! He must not deal with them it is forbidden!"
"I'll try to find him. Do you have any idea where he is?"
"He may be with them& beyond the edge of Chaos." She looked me in the eye.
"Walk the Pattern, Oberon. It has great powers. Use it to find him. Hurry!"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
«^»
By the time I reached the center of the Pattern, I felt drained physically and
mentally. It seemed no easier on this, my third try. But I knew it could be
done, and I pushed through the pain and all the barriers, and finally I
emerged, gasping and soaked with sweat.
I staggered forward. Without a second's hesitation, I visualized my father.
"I want to join Dworkin," I said aloud. "Send me to him."
Everything lurched a bit as I stepped forward. Disconnection followed.
Blackness.
I felt a spectral wind through my hair. The smells of dust and decay filled
my nostrils.
Cold.
Shivering, I blinked and found myself in a cavernous hall carved from stone.
Glowing circles on the walls and floor, in clusters of thirteen, provided a
wan light. A cool, moist breeze moaned unceasingly from the left.
A brighter light shone ahead. I peered at it and saw what looked like a table
surrounded by high-backed chairs. My father stood there, surrounded by
thirteen tall, gaunt, hairless old men. They were clearly of Ish's race.
I approached, clearing my throat gently to make my presence known.
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Fast so fast their movements seemed to blur the thirteen around the table
moved. Swords out, they surrounded me.
Slowly I raised my hands.
"Who?" one of them demanded. His words were spoken in a strange, ringing
language I had never heard before, and yet I understood it.
"My name is Oberon," I said. It sounded too simple, too plain, so I quickly
added a title for myself: "Lord of the Pattern. King of Amber."
"My son," Dworkin said.
They murmured to themselves, staring at me with unblinking eyes. Slowly they
resumed their seats. I went to stand beside my father.
"Go," said one of them. The leader?
Dad shook his head. "I want an answer first."
"Go."
He raised his hand and made a gesture of dismissal. All around us, the air
around sparkled. Everything around us bent and seemed to fold, and then they
were gone and we were back at the Pattern.
It all happened too fast. I stared at my father.
"What just happened?" I demanded. "Who were they?"
"The Feynim?" My father shook his head unhappily. "Allies, I hoped, but they
refuse to get involved."
"Whatwere they?" I demanded. "They weren't like us or the hell-creatures."
"True. They are not of Chaos or Pattern, but older. Much, much older. And
powerful. I am not sure they have a name as we understand it."
I remembered Ish's odd comment about his true name having no meaning.
"One of them was here," I said. "Looking at the Pattern."
"They have some interest in us and our doings. They thrive on other people's
discord, I think. I sent you here to make sure they did not destroy the
Pattern& or change it subtly to our disadvantage."
"Can they do that?"
"Possibly. Yes. I suspect they changed the last Pattern, but subtly, trying
to fix it. They did not succeed, however."
I stared at the Pattern. What powers they must possess, if they could do as
much as Dad said. Changing the Pattern seemed impossible.
Then I remembered the spikard and pulled it from my pouch. It grew warm in my
hand, and I fought a sudden impulse to put it on. Itwanted me to wear it.
"Not now," I said. "Settle down."
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The urge passed.
"Where did you get that?" Dad asked, eyes widening.
"Ish gave it to me. He was the one here."
"Give it to me." Dad stuck out his hand.
I started to hand it over, but hesitated. The ring had grown warm in my hand.
I had to fight an impulse to put it on again. Itreally didn't want to go to
Dad.
"It's not meant for you," I said. "They gave it to me for a reason."
Happy now? I mentally asked it. I put it back with my Trumps.
Dad sighed, but nodded. "Of course. I understand. Take care of it, my boy. A
spikard is a precious gift. Perhaps even& "
"What?"
"Perhaps invaluable against Chaos. I half remember something about them.
Something I read or heard a long, long time ago& something about the Feynim
and their war against Chaos& "
"They fought Chaos?" I gasped.
"It was a very long time ago. So long that no direct written records of the
war survive."
"What happened?"
"I am not sure. All I know is that Chaos lost. The Feynim drove King Ythoc
and his army from their lands, never to return. I think they used spikards
for& something in the battle. A barrier?" He shook his head. "I cannot
remember."
"Perhaps Freda will know," I suggested. If my spikard could help defeat King
Uthor, I would do whatever was necessary to master its powers.
"What do you know about spikards? What can they do?"
"Oh, I know a little of them. They have many uses. And many forms. I have
handled two spikards over the years, one in the shape of a sword, one in the
shape of a woman's necklace. They are centers of power& an older power than
those born of Chaos know and use. I have heard they can keep you young, make
you stronger, and help make spells more powerful. Their owners may draw on
them for strength when they need it most."
"Then it's a good thing."
"Generally, yes."
"Is it like the Logrus? Or the Pattern?"
"Not really." He pulled out a Trump of his own. It showed the mountain where
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