As I was considering how I might best phrase these matters in my reply to Mandor, I was again acted upon. I became aware of a faint feeling of inquiry, as of a cat scratching at the doors of my mind. It grew in force, thrusting aside other considerations, until I knew it as a Trump sending from some very distant place. I guessed that it might be from Random, anxious to discover what had transpired since my absence from Amber. So I made myself receptive, inviting the contact.

“Merlin, what’s the matter?” Mandor asked, and I raised my hand to indicate I was occupied. At that, I saw him place his napkin upon the tabletop and rise to his feet.

My vision cleared slowly and I beheld Fiona, looking stern, rocks at her back, a pale green sky above her.

“Merlin,” she said. “Where are you?”

“Far away,” I answered. “It’s’ a long story. What’s going on? Where are you?”

She smiled bleakly.

“Far away,” she replied.

“We seem to have chosen very scenic spots,” I observed. “Did you pick the sky to complement your hair?”

“Enough!” she said. “I did not call you to compare travel notes.”

At that moment Mandor came up aside me and placed his hand upon my shoulder, which was hardly in keeping with his character; as it is considered a gauche thing to do when a Trump communication is obviously in progress — on the order of intentionally picking up an extension phone and breaking in on someone’s call. Nevertheless…

“My! My!” he said. “Will you please introduce me, Merlin?”