“Merlin,” he said softly. “You look tired.”

I nodded.

“You look rested,” I said.

“True,” he answered, as he closed the book and set it on the table. Then, “There is trouble?” he asked.

“There is trouble, Mandor.”

He rose to his feet.

“You wish to come through?”

I shook my head. “If you have any Trumps handy for getting back, I’d rather you came to me.”

He extended his hand.

“All right,” he said.

I reached forward, our hands clasped; he took a single step and stood beside me on the bridge. We embraced for a moment and then he turned and looked out and down into the rift.

“There is some danger here?” he asked.

“No. I chose this place because it seems very safe.”

“Scenic, too,” he replied. “What’s been happening to you?”

“For years I was merely a student, and then a designer of certain sorts of specialized machinery,” I told him. “Things were pretty uneventful until fairly recently. Then all hell broke loose — but most of it I understand, and much of it seems under control. That part’s complicated and not really worth your concern.”

He rested a hand on the bridge’s side-piece: “And the other part?” he asked.

“My enemies up until this point had been from the environs of Amber. But suddenly, when it seemed that most of that business was on its way to being settled, someone put a Fire Angel on my trail. I succeeded in destroying it just a little while ago. I’ve no idea why, and it’s certainly not an Amber trick.”

He made a clicking noise with his lips as he turned away, paced a few steps, and turned back.

“You’re right, of course,” he said. “I’d no idea it had come anywhere near this, or I’d have spoken with you some time ago. But let me differ with you as to orders of importance before I indulge in certain speculations on your behalf. I want to hear your entire story.”