So I wondered about Fiona’s request.

“What makes it such a threat?” I asked her.

“It is a Shadow-storm in the form of a tornado,” she said.

“There have been such things before,” I answered. “True,” she responded, “but they tend to move through Shadow. This one does have extension through an area of Shadow, but it is totally stationary. It first appeared several days ago, and it has not altered in any way since then.”

“What’s that come to in Amber-time?” I asked.

“Half a day, perhaps. Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just curious,” I said. “I still don’t see why it’s a threat.”

“I told you that such storms had proliferated since Corwin drew the extra Pattern. Now they’re changing in character as well as frequency. That Pattern has to be understood soon.”

A moment’s quick reflection showed me that whoever gained control of Dad’s Pattern could become master of some terrible forces. Or mistress.

So, “Supposing I walk it,” I said. “Then what? As I understand it from Dad’s story, I’d just wind up in the middle, the same as with the Pattern back home. What’s to be learned from that?”

I studied her face for some display of emotion, but my relatives tend to have too much control for such simple self-betrayal.

“As I understand it,” she said, “Brand was able to trump in when Corwin was at the middle.”

“That’s the way I understand it, too.”

“…So, when you reach the center, I can come in on a Trump.”

“I suppose so. Then there will be two of us standing at the middle of the Pattern.”

“…And from there we will be in a position to go someplace we could not reach from any other point in existence.”

“That being?” I asked.

“The primal Pattern which lies behind it.”