That still left the matter in hand: items of power. Lacking your Jewel or Andauntric, and with Greyswandir probably still in the hands of Corwin, I could only think of one last chance, one last hope, to find the lost Pattern blade of Brand, Werewindle. By this time, it was becoming clear that the shiftings and changings of the castle were not random, but were of a nature and pattern impossible to predict. One thing that seemed to be constant was the fact that sometimes the castle took you where you needed to be or wanted to be, if you could be patient. I decided to put that to the test.
With the goal of finding the lost blade firmly in my mind, Erato and I walked through the castle, watching it shift and change around us, before us, and after us. Finally, after what may have been just several minutes or even several hours, the castle eventually led me to the tallest tower. At its top was a room I had never seen, though it was primarily made of stones from Castle Emerald. Seeing nowhere else to go, I searched about the walls, searching through more than sight, until, at last, I found it. I reached beyond the walls of the tower, and grasped Brand’s Pattern-blade Werewindle. No wonder neither he nor you could ever find it: in a rare fit of sanity, he put it beyond reach, until such time as it was needed and the one who would wield it found it. I would have taken it, but the cost it asked was too high for one such as me: I had long suspected Brand had taken steps to ensure that its wielder would use it for nothing less than the antithesis of your reign. Only one who was purely selfless could wield it in defense of the realm, a situation which was quite impossible for me. I could only return it to its hiding place, fixing its location firmly in my memory: if I could find a wielder for it, the blade would ensure that he or she would wield the blade for my benefit.
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