The courts of chaos by Roger Zelazny Page B

me. None of these were members of my family, but all of them were people who had once meant something to me. Yet there was no special pattern to it. There were noble deeds as well as shameful; enemies as well as friends-and none of the persons involved took note of my passage; all were caught up in some long-past sequence of actions. I wondered then at the nature of the place through which I rode. Was it some watered-down version of Tirana Nog’th, with some mind-sensitive substance in the vicinity that drew from me and projected about me this “This Is Your Life” panorama? Or was I simply beginning to hallucinate? I was tired, anxious, troubled, distressed, and I passed along a way which provided a monotonous, gentle stimulation of the senses of the sort leading to reverie. . . . In fact, I realized that I had lost control over Shadow sometime back and was now simply proceeding in a linear fashion across this landscape, trapped m a kind of externalized narcissim by the spectacle. . . . I realized then that I had to stop and rest-probably even sleep a little-though I feared doing so in this place. I would have to break free and make my way to a more sedate, deserted spot. . . .
    I wrenched at my surroundings. I twisted things about. I broke free.
    Soon I was riding in a rough, mountainous area, and shortly thereafter I came to the cave that I desired.
    We passed within, and I tended to Star. I ate and drank just enough to take the edge off my hunger. I built no fire. I wrapped myself in my cloak and in a blanket I had brought. I held Grayswandir in my right hand. I lay facing the darkness beyond the cavemouth.
    I felt a little sick. I knew that Brand was a liar, but his words bothered me anyway.
    But I had always been good at going to sleep. I closed my eyes and was gone.
     

Chapter 5
     
    I was awakened by a sense of presence. Or maybe it was a noise and a sense of presence. Whatever, I was awake and I was certain that I was not alone. I tightened my grip on Grayswandir and opened my eyes. Beyond that, I did not move.
    A soft light, like moonlight, came in through the cavemouth. There was a figure, possibly human, standing just inside. The lighting was such that I could not tell whether it faced me or faced outward. But then it took a step toward me.
    I was on my feet, the point of my blade toward its breast. It halted.
    “Peace,” said a man’s voice, in Thari. “I have but taken refuge from the storm. May I share your cave?”
    “What storm?” I asked.
    As if in answer, there came a roll of thunder followed by a gust of wind with the smell of rain within it.
    “Okay, that much is true,” I said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
    He sat down, well inside, his back against the righthand wall of the cave. I folded my blanket for a pad and seated myself across from him. About four meters separated us. I located my pipe and filled it, then tried a match which had been with me from the shadow Earth. It lit, saving me a lot of trouble. The tobacco had a good smell, mixed with the damp breeze. I listened to the sounds of the rain and regarded the dark outline of my nameless companion. I thought over some possible dangers, but it had not been Brand’s voice which had addressed me.
    “This is no natural storm,” the other said.
    “Oh? How so?”
    “For one thing, it is coming out of the north. They never come out of the north, here, this time of year.”
    “That’s how records are made.”
    “For another, I have never seen a storm behave this way. I have been watching it advance all day-just a steady line, moving slowly, front like a sheet of glass. So much lightning, it looks like a monstrous insect with hundreds of shiny legs. Most unnatural. And behind it, things have grown very distorted.”
    “That happens in the rain.”
    “Not that way. Everything seems to be changing its shape. Flowing. As if it is melting the world-or stamping away its forms.”
    I shuddered. I had thought that I was far enough ahead