Roger Zelazny. Trumps of Doom
страница №5
...ind, and I've tried to be fair. I know how touchy everyonehere is. I don't think it's me, though, and I don't think it's the
succession. I haven't had any bad vibes from any of the others. I'd gotten
the impression they had decided I was the lesser of all possible evils and
were actually cooperating to make it work. No, I don't believe any of the
others is rash enough to want my crown. There was actually amity, goodwill,
after the succession was settled. But what I'm wondering now is whether the
old pattern might be recurring -that some of the others might have taken up
the old game again to settle personal grievances. I really don't want to see
that happen-all the suspicion, precautions, innuendoes, mistrust, double
dealings. It weakens us, and there's always some possible threat ar other
against which we should be strong. Now, I've spoken with everyone privately,
and of course they all deny any knowledge of current cabals, intrigues, and
vendettas, but I could see that they're getting suspicious of each other.
It's become a habit of thought. And it wasn't at all difficult for them to
dig up some of grudge each of the others might still have had against Caine
despite the fact that he saved all our asses by taking out Brand. And the
same with Bieys - everyone could fins motives for everyone else."
"So you want the killer fast, because of what he's done to morals"
"Certainly. I don't need all this backbiting and grudgehunting. It's
all still so close to the surface that we're likely to have real cabals,
intrigues, and vendettas before long, if we don't already, and some little
misunderstanding could lead to violence again."
"Do you think it's one of the others?"
"Shit! I'm the same as they are. I get suspicious by reflex. It well
may be, but I haven't really seen a bit of evidence."
"Who else could it be?"
He uncrossed and recrossed his legs. He took another drink of wine.
"Hell! Our enemies are legion. But most of them wouldn't have the guts.
They all know the kind of reprisal they could expect once we found them
out."
He clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the rows of books.
"I don't know bow to say this," he began after a time, "but I have to."
I waited again. Then he said quickly, "There's talk it's Corwin, but I
don't believe it."
"No," I said softly.
"I told you I don't believe it. Your father means a lot to me."
"Why would anybody believe it?"
"There's a rumor he's gone crazy. You've heard it. What if he's
reverted to some past state of mind, from the days when his relations with
Came and Bleys were a lot less than
cordial - or with any of us, for that matter? That's what they're
saying."
"I don't believe it."
"I just wanted you to be aware that it's being kicked around."
"Nobody'd better kick it in my direction."
He sigh. "Don't you start. Please. They're upset. Don't look for
trouble."
I took a drink of wine. "Yes, you're right," I said.
"Now I have to listen to your story. Go ahead, complicate my life some
more."
"Okay. At least I'm fresh on it," I told him.
So I ran through it again. It took a long while, and it was getting
dark by the time I finished. He had interrupted me only for occasional
clarifications and had not indulged in the exploration of contingencies the
way Bill had when he'd heard it.
When I had finished, he rose and lit a few oil lamps. I could almost
hear him thinking.
Finally he said, "No, you've got me on Luke. He doesn't ring any bells
at all. The lady with the sting bothers me a bit, though. It seems I might
have heard something about people like that, but I can't recall the
circumstances. It'll come to me. I want to know more about this Ghostwheel
project of yours, though. Something about it troubles me."
"Sure," I said. "But there is something else I am reminded to tell you
first."
"What's that?"
"I covered everything for you pretty much the way I did when I was
talking to Bill. In fact, my just having been through it recently made me
almost use it like a rehearsal. But there was something I didn't mention to
Bill because it didn't seem important at the time. I might even have
forgotten it entirely in the light of everything else, till this business
about the sniper came up-and then you reminded me that Corwin once developed
a substitute for gunpowder that will work here."
"Everybody remembered it, believe me."
"I forgot about two rounds of ammunition I have in my pocket that came
from the ruins of that warehouse where Melman had his studio."
"So-"
"They don't contain gunpowder. There's some kind of pink stuff in them
instead-and it won't even burn. At least back on that shadow Earth . . ."
I dug one out.
"Looks like a 30-30," he said.
"I guess so."
Random rose and drew upon a braided cord that hung beside one of the
bookshelves.
By the time he'd returned to his seat there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he called.
A liveried servant entered, a young blond fellow.
"That was quick," Random said.
The man looked puzzled.
"Your Majesty, I do not understand . . ."
"What's to understand? I rang. You came."
"Sire, I was not on duty in the quarters. I was sent to tell you that
dinner is ready to be served, awaiting your pleasure."
"Oh. Tell them I'll be along shortly. As soon as I've spoken with the
person I've called."
"Very good, Sire."
The man departed backward with a quick bow.
"I thought that was too good to be true;" Random muttered.
A little later another guy appeared, older and less elegantly garbed.
"Rolf, would you run down to the armory and talk to whoever's on duty?"
Random said. "Ask him to go through that collection of rifles we have from
the time Corwin came to Kolvir with them, the day Eric died. See if he can
dig up a 30-30 for me, in good shape. Have him clean it and
send it up. We're going down to dinner now. You can just leave the
weapon in the corner over there."
"30-30, Sire?"
"Right."
Rolf departed, Random rose and stretched. He pocketed the round I' d
given him and gestured toward the door. "Let's go eat."
"Good idea."
There were eight of us at dinner: Random, Gerard, Flora, Bill;
Martin-who had been called back a little earlier in the day, Julian-who had
just arrived from Arden, Fionawho had also just come in, from some distant
locale, and myself. Benedict was due in the morning, and Llewella later this
evening.
I sat to Random's left, Martin to his right. I hadn't seen Martin in a
long while and was curious what he'd been about. But tie atmosphere was not
conducive to conversation. As soon as anyone spoke everyone else evinced
unusually acute attention-far beyond the dictates of simple politeness. I
found it rather unnerving, and I guess Random did, too, because he sent for
Droppa MaPantz, the court jester, to fill the heavy silences.
Droppa had a rough time at first. He began by juggling some food,
eating it as it moved by until it was gone, wiped his mouth on a borrowed
napkin, then insulted each of us in turn. After that, he commenced a
stand-up routine I found very funny.
Bill, who was at my left, commented softly, "I know enough Thari to
catch most of it, and that's a George Carlin shtick! How-"
"Oh, whenever Droppa's stuff starts sounding stale, Random sends him
off to various clubs in Shadow," I explained, "to pick up new material. I
understand he's a regular at Vegas. Random even accompanies him sometimes,
to play cards."
He did start getting laughs after a while which loosened things up a
bit. When he knocked off for a drink it became possible to talk without
being the center of attention, as separate conversations had sprung up. As
soon as this hap- pened, a massive arm passed behind Bill and fell upon my
shoulder. Gerard was leaning back in his chair and sideward toward me.
"Merlin," he said, "good to see you again. Listen, when you get a
chance I'd like to have a little talk with you in private."
"Sure," I said, "but Random and I have to take care of something after
dinner. "
"When you get a chance," he repeated. I nodded.
A few moments later I had the feeling that someone was trying to reach
me via my Trump.
"Merlin!"
It was Fiona. But she was just sitting at the other end of the table .
. .
Her image came clear, however, and I answered her, "Yes?" and then I
glanced down the table and saw that she was staring into her handkerchief.
She looked up at me then, smiled, and nodded.
I still retained the mental image of her, simultaneously, and I heard
it say, "I dislike raising my voice, for a number of reasons. I' m
certain that you will be rushed off after dinner, and I just wanted to let
you know that we ought to take a walk, or row out on one of the ponds, or
Trump out to Cabra or go look at the Pattern together sometime soon. You
understand?"
"I understand," I said. "I'll be in touch."
"Excellent. "
The contact was broken then, and when I glanced her way she was folding
her handkerchief and studying her plate.
Random did not linger, but rose quickly after he had finished his
dessert, bidding the others a good night and gesturing for Martin and me to
accompany him as he departed.
Julian brushed by me on the way out, trying to look somewhat less than
sinister and almost succeeding.
"We must go riding together in Arden," he said, "soon." "Good idea," I
told him. "I'll be in touch."
We departed the dining room. Flora caught me in the hall. She still had
Bill in tow.
"Stop by my room for a nightcap," she said, "before you turn in. Or
come by for tea tomorrow."
"Thank you," I said. "We'll get together. It all depends on how things
run, as to just when."
She nodded and hit me with the smile that had caused numerous duels and
Balkan crises in the past. Then she moved on and we did too.
As we mounted the stair on the way to the library, Random asked, "Is
that everyone?"
"What do you mean?" I said.
"Have they all set up assignations with you by now?"
"Well, they're all tentative things, but yes."
"He laughed. "Didn't think they'd waste any time. You'll get
everybody's pet suspicions that way Might as well collect them. Some might
come in handy later. They're probably all looking for allies, too-and you
should seem a pretty safe choice."
"I do want to visit with all of them. It's just a shame it has to be
this way."
He gestured as we came to the top of the stairs. We turned up the
hallway and headed toward the library.
"Where are we going?" Martin asked.
Although he resembled Random, Martin looked a little less sneaky, and
he was taller. Still, he was not a really big "To pick up a rifle," Random
said.
"Oh? Why?"
"I want to test some ammo Merlin brought back. If it actually fires,
our lives have just acquired an additional complication."
We entered the library. The oil lamps were still burning.
The rifle was standing in a corner. Random went to it, dug the shell
out of his pocket, and loaded it.
"Okay. What should we try it on?" he mused.
He stepped back out into the hall and looked around.
"Ah! Just the thing!'"
He shouldered it, aimed at a suit of armor up the hall, and squeezed
the trigger. There followed a sharp report and the ringing of metal. The
armor shook.
"Holy shit!" Random said. "It worked! Why me, Unicorn? I was looking
for a peaceful reign."
"May I try it, father," Martin asked. "I've always wanted to."
"Why not?" Random said. "You still got that other round, Merlin?"
"Yes," I said, and I rummaged about in my pocket and brought out two. I
passed them to Random. "One of these shouldn't work, anyway," I said. "It
just got mixed in with the other two."
"All right."
Random accepted both, loaded one: He passed the weapon to Martin then
and began explaining its operation. In the distance I heard the sounds of
alarm.
"We're about to have the entire palace guard descend upon us," I
observed.
"Good," Random answered, as Martin raised the piece to his shoulder. "A
little realistic drill every now and then never hurts." ,
The rifle roared and the armor rang a second time. Martin looked
startled and quickly passed the weapon back to Random. Random glanced at the
shell in his hand, said, "What the hell!", loaded the final round and fired
without sighting.
There was a third report, followed by sounds of a ricochet, just as the
guard reached the top of the stair.
"I guess I just don't live right," Random remarked. After Random had
thanked the guard for their prompt response to a training exercise and I
overheard a mutter about the king being in his cups, we returned to the
library and he asked me the question.
"I found the third one in the pocket of Luke's field jacket," I
answered, and I proceeded to explain the circumstances.
"I can no longer afford not to know about Luke Raynard," he finally
said. "Tell me how you read what just happened."
"The building that burned down," I began. "Upstairs was Melman who
wanted to sacrifice me. Downstairs was the Brutes Storage Company. Brutus
apparently was storing ammo of this sort. Luke admitted that he knew Melman.
I had no idea that there might be some connection with Brutes and the
ammunition, also. The fact that they were located in the same building is
too much, though."
"If they're turning it out in such quantities that it requires
warehousing, then we're in big trouble," Random said. "I want to know who
owned that building-and who owned the company, if it's a different person."
"It shouldn't be too difficult to check."
"Who should I send to do it?" he mused. Then he snapped his forgers and
smiled. "Flora is about to undertake an important mission for the Crown."
"Inspired," I said.
Martin smiled at that and then shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't
understand what's going on," he told us, "and I want to." '
"Tell you what," Random said. "You fill him in while I go give Flora
her assignment. She can leave right after the funeral."
"Yes," I said as he departed, and I began telling my tale once again,
editing for brevity.
Martin had no fresh insights and no new information, not that I had
expected any of him. He had spent the past few years off in a more pastoral
setting, I learned. I got the impression that he was more fond of the
countryside than of cities.
"Merlin," he said. "You should have brought this whole mess home to
Amber sooner. We're all affected."
And what of the Courts of Chaos? I wondered. Would rifle have fired
there? Still, it had been Caine and Bleys who had been targets. No one had
summoned me back to the Courts to brief me on any incidents. Still . . .
perhaps I ought to bring my other relatives aboard at some point.
"But up until a few days ago matters were a lot simpler," I told
Martin, "and then when things began developing fast I was too caught up in
them."
"But all those years . . . those attempts on your life . : ."
I said, "I don't call home whenever I stub my toe. Nobody else does
either. I couldn't see any connection, all that time."
But I knew that he was right and I was wrong. Fortunately, Random
returned about then.
"I couldn't quite get her to believe it was an honor," he said, "but
she'll do it."
We talked for a while then about more general matters, mostly what we
had been doing for the past several years. I recalled Random's curiosity
about Ghostwheel and mentioned the project to him. He changed the subject
immediately, giving the impression he wanted to save it for a fully private
conversation. After a time, Martin began to yawn and it was contagious.
Random decided to bid us good night and rang for a servant to show me to my
room.
I asked Dik, who had led me to my quarters, to find me some drawing
materials. It took him about ten minutes to turn up everything that I
needed.
It would have been a long, difficult walk back and I was tired. So I
seated myself beside a table and commenced the construction of a Trump for
the bar at the country club Bill had taken me to the previous evening. I
worked for perhaps twenty minutes before I was satisfied.
Now it was just a matter of time differential, a thing that was subject
to variation, the 2.5-to-1 ratio being only a rule of thumb between Amber
and the shadow I had recently inhabited. It was quite possible that I had
missed my rendezvous with the nameless housebreaker.
I set everything aside except for the Trump. I rose to my feet.
There came a knock on my door. I was tempted not to answer it, but my
curiosity won out. I crossed the room, unbolted the door, and opened it.
Fiona stood there, her hair down for a change. She had on an attractive
green evening dress and a small jeweled pin that matched her hair perfectly.
"Hello, Fi," I said. "What brings you around?"
"I felt you working with certain forces," she answered, "and I didn't
want anything happening to you before we had our talk. May I come in?"
"Of course," I said, stepping aside. "But I am in a hurry."
"I know, but perhaps I can be of help."
"How?" I asked, closing the door.
She looked about the room and spotted the Trump I'd just finished. She
shot the bolt on the door and crossed to the table.
"Very nice," she observed, studying my handiwork. "So that's where
you're headed? Where is it?"
"The bar at a country club in the place I just came from," I replied.
"I'm supposed to meet an unknown party there at ten, local time. Hopefully,
I will obtain information as to who has been trying to kill me, and why, and
possibly even learn something of other matters that have been troubling me."
"Go," she said, "and leave the Trump behind. That way, I can use it to
spy, and if you should suddenly need help I will be in a position to provide
it."
I reached out and squeezed her hand. Then I took up a position beside
the table and focused my attention.
After several moments, the scene took on depth and color. I sank into
the emerging textures, and everything advanced toward me, growing larger,
crowding out my immediate surroundings. My gaze sought the wall cloak I
remembered; to the right of the bar...
9:48.
I couldn't have cut things much closer.
I could see the patrons now, hear the sounds of their voices. I looked
for the best point of arrival. Actually, there was no one at the right end
of the bar, near that clock. Okay...
I was there. Trying to look as if r had been, all along. Three of the
patrons snapped glances in my direction. I smiled and nodded. Bill had
introduced me to one of the men the previous evening. The other I had seen,
but not spoken with at that time. Both of them returned my nod, which seemed
to satisfy the third that I was real, as he immediately turned his attention
back to the woman he was with.
Shortly, the bartender came up to me. He recalled .me from last night,
also, because he asked whether Bill was around.
I had a beer from him and retired with it to the most secluded table,
where I sat and nursed it, my back to the wall, glancing occasionally at the
clock, watching the room's two entrances between times. If I tried I could
feel Fiona's presence.
Ten o'clock came and went. So did a few patrons, new and old. None of
them seemed particularly interested in me, though my own attention was drawn
to an unescorted young lady with pale hair and a cameolike profile, which
ends the resemblance because cameos don't smile much and she did the second
time she glanced at me, right before she looked away. Damn, I thought, why
did I have to be wrapped up in a life-and-death situation? Under almost any
other cir- cumstances I would have finished the beer, walked over for
another, passed a few pleasantries, then asked her whether she'd care
to join me. In fact...
I glanced at the clock.
10:20.
How much longer should I give the mystery voice? Should I just assume
it had been George Hensen, and that he'd given up on tonight when he'd seen
me fade? How much longer might the lady hang around?
I growled softly. Stick to business. I studied the narrowness of her
waist, the swell of her hips, the tension of her shoulders . . .
10:25.
I noticed that my mug was empty. I took it over for a refill.
Dutifully, I watched the progress of the mug.
"I saw you sitting there," I heard her say. "Waiting for someone?"
She smelled strongly of a strange perfume.
"Yes," I said. "But I'm beginning to think it's too late."
"I've a similar problem," she said, and I turned toward her. She was
smiling again. "We could wait together," she concluded.
"Please join me," I said. "I'd much rather pass the time with you."
She picked up her drink and followed me back to the table.
"My name's Merle Corey," I told her, as soon as we were seated:
"I'm Meg Devlin. I haven't seen you around before." '
"I'm just visiting. You, I take it, are not?"
She shook her head slightly.
"Afraid not. I live in the new apartment complex a couple of miles- up
the road."
I nodded as if I knew where it was located.
"Where are you from?" she wanted to know.
"The center of the universe," I said, then hastily added, "San
Francisco."
"Oh, I've spent a lot of time there. What do you do?" I resisted a
sudden impulse to tell her that I was a sorcerer, and instead described my
recent employment at Grand Design. She, I learned in turn, had been a model,
a buyer for a large store, and later manager of a boutique. I glanced at the
clock.
It was 10:45. She caught the look.
"I think we've both been stood up," she said.
"Probably," I agreed, "but we ought to give them till eleven to be
decent about it."
"I suppose."
"Have you eaten?"
"Earlier."
"Hungry?"
"Some. Yes. Are you?"
"Uh-huh, and I noticed some people had food in here earlier. I'll
check."
I learned we could get sandwiches, so we got two, with some salad on
the side.
"I hope your date didn't include a late supper," I said suddenly.
"It wasn't mentioned, and I don't care," she replied, taking a bite.
Eleven o'clock came and went. I'd finished my drink and the food, and I
didn't really want another.
"At least the evening wasn't a total loss," she said, crumpling her
napkin and setting it aside.
I watched her eyelashes because it was a pleasant thing to do. She wore
very little or very pale makeup. It didn't matter at all. I was about to
reach out and cover her hand with my own, but she beat me.
"What were you going to do tonight?" I asked her.
"Oh, dance a bit, have a few drinks, maybe take a walk in the
moonlight. Silly things like that."
"I hear music in the next room. We could stroll on over."
"Yes, we could," she said. "Why don't we?"
As we were leaving the bar, I heard Fiona, like a whisper:
"Merlin! If you leave the scene on the Trump you will be out of
range to me."
"Hold on a minute," I answered.
"What?" Meg asked me.
"Uh - I want to visit the rest room first," I said.
"Good idea. I'll do the same. Meet you in the hall here in a couple of
minutes."
The place was vacant, but I took a stall in case anyone wandered in. I
located Fiona's Trump in the packet I corned. Moments later, I reached
Fiona.
"Listen, Fi," I said. "Obviously, no one's going to show. But the rest
of the evening promises to shape up nicely, and I might as well have a
little fun while I'm here. So thanks for your help. I'll just wander on back
later."
"I don't know," she said. "I don't tike you going with a stranger,
under the circumstances. There may still be danger around there for you,
somewhere." .
"There isn't," I replied. "I have a way of knowing, and it doesn't
register for her. Besides, I'm sure it was a fellow I'd met here and that he
gave up when I trumped out. I'll be all right."
"I don't like it, " she said. ,
"I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." ,
"I suppose so. Call me immediately if there are any problems."
"There won't be. You might as well turn in."
"And call when you're ready to come back. Don't worry about waking me.
I want to bring you home personally."
"Okay, I'll do that. Good night."
"Stay wary."
"I always am."
"Good night, then."
She broke the contact.
A few minutes later we were on the dance floor, turning and listening
and touching. Meg had a strong tendency to lead. But what the hell, I can be
led. I even tried being wary occasionally but there was nothing more
threatening than loud music and sudden laughter.
At eleven-thirty we checked the bar. There were several couples there,
but her date wasn't. And no one even gave me a nod. We returned to the
music.
We looked again a little after midnight with similar results. We seated
ourselves then and ordered a final drink.
"Well, it was fun," she said, resting her hand where I could cover it
with my own. So I did.
"Yes," I replied. "I wish we could do it more often. But I'm going to
be leaving tomorrow."
"Where are you headed?"
"Back to the center of the universe."
"A pity," she said. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"
I nodded. "Anywhere you're going."
She smiled and squeezed my hand.
"All right," she agreed. "Come on over and I'll make you a cup of
coffee."
We finished our drinks and headed out to the parking lot, pausing a few
times to embrace along the way. I even tried being wary again, but we seemed
to be the only people in the lot. Her car was a neat little red Porsche
convertible with the top down.
"Here we are. You care to drive?" she asked.
"No, you do it and I'll watch for headless horsemen."
"What?"
"It's a lovely night, and I've always wanted a chauffeur who looked
exactly like you."
We got in and she drove. Fast, of course. It just seemed to follow. The
roads were deserted and a feeling of exhilaration swept over me. I raised
one hand and summoned a lighted cigar from Shadow. I took a few puffs and
tossed it away as we roared over a bridge. I regarded the constellations,
which had grown familiar to me these past eight years. I drew a deep breath
and let it out slowly. I tried to analyze my feelings and realized that I
was happy. I hadn't felt that way in a long while.
A mess of light occurred beyond a fringe of trees up ahead. A minute
later we rounded a curve and I saw that it came from a small apartment
complex off to the right. She slowed and turned there when we reached it.
She parked in a numbered slot, from whence we made our way along a
shrub-lined walk to the building's entrance. She let us in and we crossed
the lobby to the elevators. The ride up was over too soon, and once we
reached her apartment she really did make coffee.
Which was fine with me. It was good coffee, and we sat together and
sipped it. Plenty of time . . .
One thing finally did lead to another. We found ourselves in the
bedroom a bit later, our clothes on a nearby chair, and I was congratulating
myself that the meeting for which I had returned had not come off. She was
smooth and soft and warm, and there was just enough of her in all the right
places. A vise in velvet, with honey . . . the scent of her perfume . . .
We lay there, much later, in that peaceful state of temporary fatigue
on which I will not waste metaphors. I was stroking her hair when she
stretched, turned her head slightly, and regarded me through half-lidded
eyes.
"Tell me something," she said. "Sure."
"What was your mother's name?"
I felt as if something prickly had just been rolled along my spine. But
I wanted to see where this was leading. "Dara," I told her.
"And your father?"
"Corwin."
She smiled.
"I thought so," she said, "but I had to be sure."
"Do I get some questions now? Or can only one play?"
"I'll save you the trouble. You want to know why I asked."
"You're on the ball."
"Sorry," she said, moving her leg.
"I take it their names mean something to you?"
"You are Merlin," she stated, "Duke of Kolvir and Prince of Chaos."
"Damn!" I observed. "It seems everybody in this shadow knows who I am!
Do you all belong to a club or something?"
"Who else knows?" she asked quickly, her eyes suddenly wide.
"A fellow named Luke Raynard, a dead man named Dan Martinez; a local
man named George Hansen, probably, and another dead man named Victor Melman
. . . Why? These names ring any bells?"
"Yes, the dangerous one is Luke Raynard. I brought you here to warn you
about him, if you were the right one."
"What do you mean `the right one'?"
"If you were who you are - the son of Dara."
"So warn me."
"I just did: Don't trust him."
I sat up and propped a pillow behind me.
"What's he after? My stamp collection? My traveler's checks? Could you
be a little more specific?"
"He tried several times to kill you, years ago-"
"What? How?"
"The first time it involved a truck that almost ran you down. Then the
next year-"
"Gods ! You really do know ! Give me the dates, the dates he tried it."
"April 30, always April 30."
"Why? Do you know why?"
"No."
"Shit. How do you know all of this?"
"I was around. I was watching."
"Why didn't you do something about it?"
"I couldn't. I didn't know which of you was which."
"Lady, you've lost me completely. Who the hell are you, and what's your
part in this?"
"Like Luke, I am not what I seem," she began.
There came a sharp buzzing around firom the next room.
"Oh my!" she said and sprang out of bed.
I followed her, arriving in the foyer as she pushed a button beside a
small grating and said, "Hello?"
"Honey, it's me," came the reply. "I got home a day early. Buzz me in,
will you? I'm carrying a bunch of packages."
Oh-oh.
She released the one button and pushed another, turning toward me as
she did so.
"The husband," she said, suddenly breathless. "You've got to leave now.
Please! Take the steps!"
"But you haven't told me anything yet!"
"I've told you enough. Please don't make trouble!"
"Okay," I said, hurrying back to the bedroom, pulling on my pants and
slipping my feet into my loafers.
I stuffed my socks and underwear into my hip pockets drew on my shirt.
"I'm not satisfied," I said. "You know more and I want it."
"Is that all you want?"
I kissed her cheek quickly.
"Not really. I'll be back," I said.
"Don't," she told me. "It won't be the same. We shall meet again, when
the time is right."
I headed for the door.
"That's not good enough," I said as I opened it.
"It will have to be."
"We'll see."
I tore off up the hall and pushed open the door beneath the EXIT sign.
I buttoned my shirt and tucked it in on my way down the steps. I paused at
the bottom to draw on my socks . I ran a hand through my hair then and
opened the door to the lobby.
No one in sight. Good.
As I left the building and headed down the walk a black sedan pulled up
in front of me and I heard the hum of a power window and saw a flash of red.
"Get in, Merlin," came a familiar voice.
"Fiona!"
I opened the door and slid inside. We began moving immediately,
"Well, was she?" she asked me.
"Was she what?" I said.
"The one you went to the club to meet."
I hadn't thought of it that way until she said it.
"You know," I said a little later. "I think maybe she was."
She turned onto the road and drove back in the direction from which we
had come earlier.
"What kind of game was she playing?" Fiona asked.
"I'd give a lot to know," I answered.
"Tell me about it," she said, "and feel free to edit certain portions."
"Well, all right," I said, and I let her have it.
We were back in the country club parking lot before I was finished.
"Why are we here again?" I asked:
"This is where I got the car. It might belong to a friend of Bill's. I
thought I'd be nice and bring it back."
"You used the Trump I'd made to go through to the bar in there?" I
asked, gesturing.
"Yes, right after you went in to dance. I watched you for about an
hour, mostly from the terrace. And I'd told you to be wary."
"Sorry, I was smitten."
"I'd forgotten they don't serve absinthe here. I had to make do with a
frozen marguerite."
"Sorry about that, too. Then you hot-wired a car and followed us when
we left?"
"Yes. I waited in her parking lot and maintained the most peripheral of
touches with you via your Trump. If I'd felt danger I would have come in
after you."
"Thanks . How peripheral?"
"I am not a voyeur, if that's what you mean. Very well, we're up to
date."
"There's a lot more to the story than this fast part."
"Keep it," she said, "for now. There is only one thing I am curious
about at the moment. Would you happen to have a picture of this Luke
Raynard?"
"I might," I told her, reaching for my wallet. "Yes; I think I do."
I withdrew my shorts from my hip pocket and explored further.
"At least you don't wear jockeys," she remarked:
I withdrew my wallet and turned on the overhead light. As I flipped the
wallet open she leaned toward me, resting her hand on my arm. Finally, I
found a clear colored photo of Luke and me at the beach, with Julia and a
girl named Gail whom Luke used to date.
I felt her grip tighten as she drew in a short, sharp breath.
"What is it?" I asked. "You know him?"
She shook her head too quickly.
"No. No," she said. "Never saw him before in my life."
"You're a lousy liar, Auntie. Who is it?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Come on! You nearly broke my arm when you saw him.
"Don't push me;" she said.
"It involves my life."
"It involves more than your life, I think."
"So?"
"Let it be, for now."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. I must insist."
She turned more fully and both of her hands came up between us. Smoke
began to rise from her well-manicured fingertips. Frakir throbbed upon my
wrist, which meant she was sufficiently pissed off to lean on me if it came
to that.
I made a warding gesture and decided to back off.
"Okay, let's call it a day and head home."
She flexed her fingers and the smoke fled. Frakir became still. She
withdrew a packet of Trumps from her purse and shuffled out the one for
Amber.
"But sooner or later I'm going to have to know," I added.
"Later," she said, as the vision of Amber grew before us.
One thing I always liked about Fiona: she didn't believe in hiding her
feelings.
I reached up and switched off the dome light as Amber came on all
around us.
CHAPTER 8
I guess that my thoughts at funerals are typical. Like Bloom in
Ulysses, I think the most mundane things about the deceased and the current
goings-on. The rest of the time my mind wanders.
On the wide strand of shoreline at the southern foot of Kolvir there is
a small chapel dedicated to the Unicorn, one of several such throughout the
realm at places where she had been sighted. This one seemed most appropriate
for Caine's service in that-like Gerard-he had once expressed a desire to be
laid to rest in one of the sea caves at the mountain's foot, facing the
waters he had sailed so long, so often. One such had been prepared for him,
and there would be a procession after the service to inter him there. It was
a windy, misty, sea-cool morning with only a few
sails in sight, moving to or- from the port over half a league westward
of us.
Technically, I suppose Random should have officiated, since his
kingship automatically made him high priest, but aside from reading an
opening and closing passage on the Passing of Princes from the Book of the
Unicorn, he turned the service over to Gerard to perform in his stead, as
Caine had gotten along with Gerard better than with anyone else in the
family. So Gerard's booming voice filled the small stone building, reading
long sections involving the sea and mutability. It was said that Dworkin
himself had penned the Book in his saner days, and that long passages had
come direct from the Unicorn. I don't know. I wasn't there. It is also said
that we are descended of Dworkin and the Unicorn, which gives rise to some
unusual mental images. Origins of anything tend to fade off into myth,
though. Who knows? I wasn't around then.
". . . And all things return to the sea," Gerard was saying. I looked
about me. Besides the family, there were perhaps forty or fifty people
present, mostly nobility from the town, a few merchants with whom Caine had
been friendly, representatives of realms in several adjacent shadows where
Caine had spent time on both official and personal business, and of course
Vinta Bayle. Bill had expressed a desire to be present, and he stood to my
left. Martin was at my right. Neither Fiona nor Bleys was present. Bleys had
pleaded his injury and excused himself from the service. Fiona had simply
vanished. Random had been unable to locate her this morning. Julian departed
partway through the service, to check on the guard he had posted along the
strand, someone having pointed out that a would-be assassin could rack up a
high score with that many of us together in one small space. Consequently,
Julian's foresters, with short sword, dagger, and longbow or lance, were
spotted strategically all over the place-and every now and then we'd hear
the baying of one of his hellhounds, to be answered almost immediately by
several others, a mournful, unnerving thing, counterpointing waves, wind,
and reflections upon mortality. Where had she gotten off to? I wondered.
Fiona? Fear of a trap? Or something to do with last night? And Benedict . .
. he had sent regrets and regards, mentioning sudden business that precluded
his making it back in time. Llewella simply hadn't shown, and could not be
reached by Trump. Flora stood ahead and to the left of me, knowing she
looked lovely in dark colors, too. Perhaps I do her an injustice. I don't
know. But she seemed more fidgety than contemplative.
At the conclusion of the service we filed out, four seamen bearing
Caine's casket, and we formed up into a procession that would lead to the
cave and his sarcophagus. A number of Julian's troops came up to pace us as
an armed escort.
As we walked along, Bill nudged me and gestured upward with his head,
toward Kolvir. I looked in that direction and beheld a black-cloaked and
cowled figure standing upon a ledge in the shadow of a rocky projection.
Bill leaned close so that I could hear him above the sound of the pipes and
strings that were now playing.
"Is that one some part of the ceremony?" he asked.
"Not that I know of," I answered.
I broke out of line and moved forward. In another minute or so we would
pass directly beneath the figure.
I caught up with Random and put my hand on his shoulder. When he looked
back I pointed upward. He halted and stared, squinting.
His right hand rose to his breast, where he wore the Jewel of Judgment,
as on most state occasions. Instantly, the winds rose.
"Halt!" Random called out. "Stop the procession! Everyone stay where
you are!"
The figure moved then, slightly, head turning as if to stare at Random.
In the sky, as if by trick photography, a cloud blew itself together,
growing, above Kolvir. A red, pulsing glow emerged from beneath Random's
hand.
Suddenly, the figure looked upward and a hand flashed beneath the
cloak, emerging moments later to perform a quick casting movement. A tiny
black object hung in the air, then began its descent.
"Everybody down!" Gerard called out.
Random did not move as the others of us dropped. He remained standing,
watching, as lightning emerged from the cloud and played across the face of
the cliff.
The thunder that followed coincided almost exactly with the explosion
that occurred high overhead. The distance had been too great. The bomb had
gone off before it reached us-though it would probably have scored had we
continued as we were, to pass beneath the ledge and have it dropped directly
upon us. When the spots stopped dancing before my eyes, I regarded the cliff
again. The dark figure was gone.
"Did you get him?" I asked Random.
He shrugged as he lowered his hand. The Jewel had ceased its pulsing.
"Everybody on your feet!" he called out. "Let's get on with this
funeral!"
And we did. There were no more incidents, and the business was
concluded as planned.
My thoughts, and probably everyone else's, were already playing family
games as the box was being fitted into the vault. Might the attacker have
been one of our absent kin? And if so, which one? What. motives might each
of them possess for the act? Where were they now? And what were their
alibis? Could there have been a coalition involved? Or cold it have been an
outsider? If so, how was access obtained to the local supply of explosives?
Or was this imported stuff ? Or had someone local come up with the proper
formula? If it were an outsider, what was the motive and where was the
person from? Had one of us imported an assassin? Why?
As we filed past the vault I did think fleetingly of Caine, but more as
part of the puzzle picture than as an individual. I had not known him all
that well. But then, several of the others had told me early on that he was
not the easiest person to get to know. He was tough and cynical and had a
streak of cruelty in his nature. He had made quite a few enemies over the
years and seemed even to be proud of this fact. He had always been decent
enough with me, but then we'd never been at cross-purposes over anything. So
my feelings did not run as deep for him as they did for most of the others.
Julian was another of this cut, but more polished on the surface. And no one
could be certain what lay beneath that surface an any given day. Caine . . .
I wish I'd gotten to know you better. I am certain that I am diminished by
your passing in ways that I do not even understand.
Departing, afterward, heading back to the palace for food and drink, I
wondered, not for the first time, how my problems and everyone else's were
connected. For I felt they were. I don't mind small coincidences, but I
don't trust big ones.
And Meg Devlin? Did she know something of this business, too? It seemed
possible that she might. Husband or no husband, I decided, we had a date.
Soon.
Later, in the big dining hall, amid the buzz of conversation and the
rattle of cutlery and crockery, one vague possibility occurred to me and I
resolved to pursue it immediately. Excusing myself from the cold but
attractive company of Vinta Bayle, third daughter of some minor nobility and
apparently Caine's last mistress, I made my way to the far end of the hall
and the small knot of people surrounding Random. I was standing there for
several minutes, wondering how to break in, when he spotted me. He excused
himself from the others immediately,: advanced upon me, and caught hold of
my sleeve.
"Merlin," he said, "I don't have time now, but I just wanted to let you
know that I don't consider our conversation concluded. I want to get
together with you again later this afternoon or this evening-as soon as I'm
free. So don't go running off anywhere till we've talked, okay?"
I nodded.
"One quick question," I said, as he began turning back toward the
others.
"Shoot," he said.
"Are there any Amberites currently in residence on the shadow Earth I
just departed-agents of any sort?"
He shook his head.
"I don't have any, and I don't believe any of the others do just now. I
have a number of contacts there in different places, but they're all
natives-like Bill."
His eyes narrowed.
"Something new come up?" he asked then.
I nodded again.
"Serious?"
"Possibly."
"I wish I had the time to hear it, but it'll just have to keep till we
talk later."
"I understand."
"I'Il send for you," he said, and he returned to his companions.
That shot down the only explanation I could think of for Meg Devlin. It
also foreclosed the possibility of my taking off to see her as soon as I
could leave the gathering.
I consoled myself with another plate of food. After a time, Flora
entered the hall, studied all the knots of humanity, then made her way among
them to settle beside me on the window seat.
"No way of talking to Random right now without an audience," she said.
"You're right," I replied. "May I get you something to eat or drink?"
"Not now. Maybe you can help. You're a sorcerer."
I didn't like that opening, but I asked, "What's the problem?"
"I went to Bleys' rooms, to see whether he wanted to come down and join
us. He's gone."
"Wasn't his door locked? Most people do that around here."
"Yes, from the inside. So he must have trumped out. I broke in when he
didn't answer, since there'd been one attempt on his life already."
"And what would you want of a sorcerer?"
"Can you trace him?"
"Trumps don't leave tracks," I said. "But even if I could, I'm not so
sure that I would. He knows what he's doing, and he obviously wants to be
left alone."
"But what if he's involved? He and Caine had been on opposite sides in
the past."
"If he's mixed up in something dangerous to the rest of us you should
be happy to see him go."
"So you can't help-or won't?"
I nodded.
"Both, I guess. Any decision to seek him out should really come from
Random, don't you think?"
"Maybe."
"I'd suggest keeping it to yourself till you can talk to Random. No use
stirring up fruitless speculations among the others. Or I' ll tell him, if
you' d like. I' m going to be talking with him a bit later."
"What about?"
Ouch.
"Not sure," I said. "It's something he wants to tell me, or ask me."
She studied me carefully.
"We haven't really had our own little talk yet," she said then.
"Looks like we're having it now."
"Okay. May I hear about your problems in one of my favorite shadows?"
"Why not?" I said, and I launched into a synopsis of the damned thing
again. I felt that this would be the final time, though. Once Flora knew it
I was confident it would make the rounds.
She had no information bearing upon my case that she cared to share. We
chatted for a while then-local gossipand she finally decided to get
something to eat. She departed in the direction of the food and did not
return.
I talked with a few of the others, too-about Caine, about my father. I
did not hear anything that I did not already know. I was introduced to a
number of people I had not met before. I memorized a mess of names and
relationships since I had nothing better to do.
When things finally broke up, I kept an eye on Random and contrived to
depart at about the same time he did.
"Later," he said as we passed, and he went off with a couple of guys
he'd been talking with.
So I went back to my rooms and stretched out on the bed. When things
are brewing you take your rest whenever you can.
After a time I shpt, and I dreamed . . .
I was walking in the formal garden behind the palace. Someone else was
with me, but I did not know who it was. This did not seem to matter. I heard
a familiar howling. Suddenly, there were growling noises near at hand. The
first time I looked about I saw nothing. But then, abruptly, they were
there-three huge, doglike creatures similar to the one I had slain in
Julia's apartment. They were racing toward me across the garden. The howling
continued, but they were not its authors. They restricted themselves to
growling and slavering as they came on. Just as suddenly, I realized that
this was a dream and that I had dreamt it several times before only to lose
track of it upon awakening. The knowledge that it was a dream, however, in
no ,way detracted from the feeling of menace as they rushed toward me. All
three of them were surrounded by a kind of light-pale, distorting. Looking
past them, through their haloes, I did not see the garden but caught
glimpses of a forest. When they drew near and sprang to attack it was as if
they had encountered a glass wall. They fell back, rose and dashed toward me
once more only to be blocked again. They leaped and growled and whined and
tried again. It was as if I stood beneath a bell jar or within a magic
circle, though. They could not get at me. Then the howling came louder, came
nearer and they turned their attention away from me.
"Wow !" Random said. "I should charge you something for pulling you out
of a nightmare."
. . . And I was awake and lying on my bed and there was darkness beyond
my window-and I realized that Random had called me via my Trump and tuned in
on my dream when he'd made contact.
I yawned and thought him my answer,
"Thanks."
"Finish waking up and let's have our talk," he said.
"Yes. Where are you?"
"Downstairs. The little sitting room off the main hall to the south.
Drinking coffee. We've got it to ourselves."
"See you in f ive."
"Check." Random faded. I sat up, swung my feet over the side of the
bed, and rose. I crossed the room to the window and flung it wide. I inhaled
the crisp evening air of autumn. Spring on the shadow Earth, fall here in
Amber-my two favor...
