Having left Deirdre behind, I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

This continued for days upon days, until the mists and the incessant banter from the Ghost-Brand began to play upon my brain. Brand couldn't, or wouldn't, provide me with any essential information, such as where the hell the Serpent was, where we were, and if we were getting anywhere. I was reminded of a story I read once about a man wandering through the desert, focused only on one thing, and I wish I had that man's guns right now so that I could pop Brand a few times. Alas.

Maybe a week had passed -- I couldn't be certain -- when I noticed the shift in my surroundings. The mists receded, becoming pale and white, the ground turned to grass and frozen waste below me, and the air became cool. We continued, then, until Brand stopped.

"This is as far as I can go," he said softly. I regarded him. Through all of my time in this place, my feelings for him were mixed. There was still a lot of the arrogance and such that had been described to me. None of the insanity, though, and some part of me felt for his plight. I actually thanked him for his company.

He looked at me, letting down that arrogance for just one second. "Tell her," he said, trying to hold on to his composure. "Tell her I love her."

I could only nod that I would.

He watched me move on for a while, until I could no longer look back and see his form. I looked forward then, remembering why I had done what I had done.

Bailes.

*****

A near hysterical laugh bubbled out of my mouth when I pushed in the door to the diner. I've come full circle! my mind laughed, and then suddenly, in a serious tone, Trapped again?. The guy behind the counter, fat and greasy, seemed to recognize me, and said something to that effect. I questioned him about Bailes. Not her, but a tall broad with a kid. Odd. I began to wonder about how much traffic this Shadow had when

		All Roads lead to Amber!
		    Take Highway 12
		      to Exit 22 

"Anyone headed north?"

*****

Now, normally I'll allow someone to regain some dignity by dressing before I'd come barging in on them, but this was a unique situation. It had also been a while since I'd had the barrel of a gun pointed in my face. Last time, my streaky luck had left him out of ammo, and so I tossed him over the edge of a parking structure. This time though...

Some part of me cringed inside, as she walked out of the bathroom in just a towel. Long red hair hung down, wet and dripping... (I need to shower too, Bailes. And as much as I'd like to join you...) I shook the memory out of my head as Delauney introduced herself. She knew of the Zodiac Scroll; and the impact of her words hit me like blows to the solar plexus. "A little girl, black hair, green eyes..."

The conversation and the room swam around in my head, Delauney kept appearing in increasing stages of dress. I wanted to question her about her role in the list, and what it was all about, but my daughter's name kept pounding through my head. "I knew you'd be back again, and so I kept an eye on her," she said, matter-of-factly. "When I found her, she was an orphan in the streets."

"Her mother?" I croaked.

"A prostitute. She was killed by one of her 'clients'," said Delauney, in such a way as to make me hate her for just one moment. She jerked a thumb out back. "The question is, Quentin," and I didn't ask how she knew me, "is what are you going to do with her?"

"Take her back to Amber," I said, and Delauney looked as if she really wasn't cool with that, but she shrugged slightly then. "Safer than here..." Her words trailed off as I followed her, and I realized then that she cared for my daughter more than anyone else ever had.

*****

Besides the wind ripping across the wheat prairies of what was once central Canada, the squeal of a long-neglected swing creaked through the air. Delauney stopped the swing, and leaned down, whispering into a girl's ear. She couldn't have been any older than seven or eight, with shoulder-length raven hair, and jade green eyes (Her mother's?) that sparkled in the evening's last bit of sun. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and watched them both, the girl looking at me with slightly suspicious eyes. She looks so much like Ben, when we were young, I thought, and I could feel, just by looking at her, the tension and stress in me drain. By the Unicorn, I could even feel myself smiling.

Delauney pulled this girl over to me, she looking hesitant, yet curious, and then a small hand was pressed into mine.

"Quentin, Sarah. Sarah, Quentin."

*****

Delauney went to get Sarah's things.

"She told me you'd come," Sarah said, looking up at me.

"Yeah..." I started. I had no idea what to say.

She told me a bit of herself. I cringed when she told me of her mother. "I know what she was," she said as a statement to me, trying not to show her sadness herself.

"She loved you very much," I said, the only think I could think to say. "Sarah, had Delauney ever told you stories? About castles and fairy princesses?"

She nodded, looking up at Delauney, who had returned and was in the process of putting a small backpack on her.

"What if I told you that such a place existed, where you were the princess?"

This was apparently too much for her to believe, and her facial expression told me so. I rummaged through my Trumps and handed her the one of the gates of Castle Amber, and she took it, regarding it. "It feels cold," she said, and I nodded. "This is a magic card."

She looked at me. "I thought magic was *bad*."

I chuckled. "I used to think that as well, but I learned that it's not magic, but the use thereof which is good or bad."

Sarah smiled shrewdly at me. "That's right," and I thought I saw a smile light up Delauney's face for once, as she handed my daughter a stuffed bear. I stepped back so that they could have a moment together, and I saw the elder slip a Trump in her pocket. "Your father will teach you how to use that." I nodded as they walked back to me, and I regarded Delauney, looking for the words to say what I felt. "Whatever you need," I began, "contact me, and it will be yours."

She accepted this with a nod. "Take care of her, Quentin."

I kneeled down and taught my daughter how to open the Trump.

*****

I carried her on my shoulder as we walked down the main path towards the castle proper, Sarah's eyes wide, taking it all in, when we were confronted by three figures, which I soon made out to be my uncles Random, Benedict, and Bleys.

Random looked shocked and sputtered nonsense. I told Sarah he was always like that, and she chuckled. Benedict, however, simply pointed and said in his way, "Don't move."

I set Sarah down, and she immediately clutched at my leg behind me. I whispered soothing words to her, and ruffled her hair, even as I felt Bleys work his magics. "It's really him," he said, surprised.

"Quentin, what the HELL happened to you?" exclaimed Random.

"Watch your language in front of my daughter," I laughed, and Sarah smiled as all three men, looked confused. Well, maybe not Old Ben. I looked at Sarah and smiled, and then she smiled at me...

I looked at my uncles again, and suddenly, my stomach turned as an ice cold chill ran through me, followed by one thought:

Bailey is probably dead by now...

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