I took a right at the Burning Wells and fled smokeghosts across theUplands of Artine. I slew the leader of the Kerts of Shern as her flockharried me from hightowered perches among the canyons of that place. Theothers abandoned the sport, and we were through, beneath a green rain out ofa slate-colored sky. Onward and down then, to where the plains swirled dustdevils that sang of sad eternities in rock that once they were.

At last the winds fell off and Shask, my deadly mount, blue stallionout of Chaos, slowed to a stop before vermilion sands.

"What is the matter?" I asked.

"We must cross this neck of the desert to reach the Dancing Mountains,"Shask replied.

"And how long a journey might that be?"

"Most of the rest of the day," he said. "It is narrowest here. We havepaid in part for this indulgence already. The rest will come in themountains themselves, for now we must cross where they are very active."

I raised my canteen and shook it.

"Worth it," I said, "so long as they don't really dance in Richterterms."

"No, but at the Great Divide between the shadows of Amber and theshadows of Chaos there is some natural shifting activity in play where theymeet."

"I'm no stranger to shadow-storms, which is what that sounds like--apermanent shadow-storm front. But I wish we could just push on throughrather than camp there."

"I told you when you chose me, Lord Corwin, that I could bear youfarther than any other mount by day. But by night I become an unmovingserpent, hardening to stone and cold as a demon's heart, thawing come dawn."

"Yes, I recall," I said, --and you have served me well, as Merlin saidyou might. Perhaps we should overnight this side of the mountains and crosstomorrow."

"The front, as I said, shifts. Likely, at some point, it would join you