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"Okay, be that way," I said, and I headed north into Arden.
x x x
I heard the sound of horses occasionally as I hiked through that ancient forest. If I was being
followed, though, the horsemen showed no interest in closing with me. Most likely, I was passing in the
vicinity of one of Julian's patrols.
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Not that it mattered. I soon located a trail and began the small adjustments that bore me farther and
farther from them.
A lighter shade, from brown to yellow, and slightly shorter trees . . . Fewer breaks in the leafy
canopy . . . Odd bird note, strange mushroom . . .
Little by little, the character of the wood was altered. And the shifting grew easier and easier the
farther this took me from Amber.
I began to pass sunny clearings. The sky grew a paler blue . . . The trees were all green now, but
most of them saplings . . .
I broke into a jog.
Masses of clouds came into view, the spongy earth grew firmer, drier . . .
I stepped up my pace, heading downhill. Grasses were more abundant. The trees were divided into
clusters now, islands in a waving sea of those pale grasses. My view took in a greater distance. A
flapping, beaded curtain off to my right: rain.
Rumbles of thunder came to me, though sunlight continued to light my way. I breathed deeply of the
clean damp air and ran on.
The grasses fell away, ground fissured, sky blackened . . . Waters rushed through canyons and
arroyos all about me . . . Torrents poured from overhead onto the rocking terrain . . .
I began slipping. I cursed each time I picked myself up, for my overeagerness in the shifting.
The clouds parted like a theater curtain, to where a lemon sun poured warmth and light from a
salmon-colored sky. The thunder halted in mid-rumble and a wind rose . . .
I made my way up a hillside, looked down upon a ruined gage. Long-abandoned, partly overgrown,
strange mounds lined its broken main street.
I passed through it beneath a slate-colored sky, picked my way slowly across an icy pond, faces of
those frozen beneath me staring sightlessly in all directions . . .
The sky was soot-streaked, the snow hard-packed, my breath feathery as I entered the skeletal
wood where frozen birds perched: an etching.
Slipping downhill, rolling, sliding into melting and spring . . . Movement again; about me . . . Mucky
ground and clumps of green . . . Strange cars on distant highway . . .
A junkyard, smelling, oozing, rusting, smoldering . . . Threading my way amid acres of heaps . . .
Rats scurrying...
Away . . . Shifting faster, breathing harder . . . Skyline beneath smog cap . . . Delta bottom . . .
Seashore . . . Golden pylons along the road . . . Countryside with lakes . . . Brown grasses beneath green
sky . . .
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Slowing . . . Rolling grassland, river and lake . . . Slowing . . . Breeze and grass, sealike . . .
Mopping my brow on my sleeve . . . Sucking air . . . Walking now . . .
I moved through the field at a normal pace, preferring to do my resting in a congenial spot such as
this, where I could see for a good distance. The wind made soft noises as it passed among the' grasses.
The nearest lake was a deep lime color. Something in the air smelled sweet.
I thought I saw a brief flash of light off to my right, but when I looked that way there was nothing
unusual to be seen. A little later, I was certain that I heard a distant sound of hoofbeats. But again, I saw
nothing. That's the trouble with shadows-you don't always know what's natural there; you're never
certain what to look for.
Several minutes passed, and then I smelled it before I saw anything.
Smoke. The next instant there was a rush of fire. A long line of flame cut across my path.
And again the voice: "I told you to go back!"
The wind was behind the fire, pushing it toward me. I turned to head away and saw that it was
already flanking me. It takes a while to build up the proper mental set for shadow-shifting, and I had let
mine go. I doubted I could set it up again in time.
I began running.
The line of flame was curving about me, as if to describe a huge circle. I did not pause to admire the
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