Then there was Prince Tubble of the Ways of Chanicut, phasing back and forth between human and swirling demonic forms. Placid, heavy, subtle; centuries old and very shrewd; he wore a fringed beard, had wide, innocent, pale eyes, was master of many games.

I waited, and Tmer followed Jurt followed Tubble into vanishment amid the coiling ribbons. I waited longer, and nothing new occurred.

“End of reflection,” I announced at last. “But I still don’t know what it means.”

“What did you see?”

“My brother Jurt,” I replied, “and Prince Tmer of Jesby. And Tubble of Chanicut, among other attractions.”

“Most appropriate,” he responded. “Entirely appropriate.”

“And so?”

“Like you, Tmer and Tubble are both under black watch. I understand Tmer is at Jesby, though I believe Jurt has gone to earth somewhere other than Dalgarry.”

“Jurt’s come back?”

He nodded.

“He could be at my mother’s Fortress Gantu,” I mused. “Or, Sawall did have a second stead — the Ways of Anch, at the very Rim.”

Suhuy shrugged.

“I do not know,” he said.

“But why the black watch — for any of us?”

“You went off into Shadow to a fine university,” he said, “and you have dwelled in the Court of Amber, which I would deem highly educational. Therefore, I bid you take thought. Surely, a mind so well honed —”

“I realize the black watch means we face some sort of danger…”

“Of course.”

“…But its nature eludes me. Unless…”

“Yes.”

“It has to do with Swayvill’s death. So it must involve some sort of political settlement. But I’ve been away. I don’t know what matters are hot just now.”