“Yeah.”
“No. I brought you here to warn you about a fellow named Mandor. He’s—”
“He’s my brother,” I said. There was silence.
Then, “That would make him my uncle, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
“How about the lady with him? She—”
“Fiona’s my aunt.”
“My great-aunt. Oh, my!”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s bad form to speak ill of relatives, isn’t it?”
“Not in Amber,” I said. “In Amber we do it all the time.”
The circle of light flipped again. We were back in the hallway.
“Now that we’re in Amber,” he said, “I want to speak ill of them. I wouldn’t trust them if I were you. I think they’re a little crazy. Also insulting and mendacious.”
I laughed. “You’re becoming a true Amberite.”
“I am?”
“Yes. That’s the way we are. Nothing to worry about. What came down between you, anyhow?”
“I’d rather work it out on my own, if you don’t mind.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
“I don’t really need to warn you about them?”
“No.”
“Okay. That was my main concern. I guess I’ll go and try the mire and muck bit now—”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“You seem pretty good at transporting things through Shadow these days.”
“I seem to be improving, yes.”
“What about a small band of warriors and their leader?”
“I think I could manage that.”
“And me.”
“Of course. Where are they and where do you want go?”
I fished in my pocket, found Luke’s Trump, held it before me.
“But . . . He’s the one you warned me not to trust,” Ghost said.
“It’s okay now,” I told him. “Just for this matter. Nothing else though. Things have changed a bit.”
“I don’t understand. But if you say so.”
“Can you run him down and set things up?”
“I should be able to. Where do you want to go?”
“Do you know the Keep of the Four Worlds?”
“Yes. But that’s a dangerous place, Dad. Very tricky coming and going. And that’s where the red-haired lady tried to lay a power lock on me.”
“Jasra.”
“I never knew her name.”
“She’s Luke’s mother,” I explained, waving his Trump.
“Bad blood,” Ghost stated. “Maybe we shouldn’t have anything to do with either of them.”
“She might be coming with us,” I said.
“Oh, no. That’s a dangerous lady. You don’t want her along. Especially not in a place where she’s strong. She might try to grab me again. She might succeed.”
“She’ll be too occupied with other matters,” I said, “and I may need her. So start thinking of her as part of the package.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“When do you want to go there?”
“That depends in part on when Luke’s troops will be ready. Why don’t you go and find out?”
“All right. But I still think you might be making a mistake, going into that place with those people.”
“I need someone who can help, and the die is damned well cast,” I said.
Ghost coalesced to a point and winked out.
I drew a deep breath, changed my mind about sighing, and moved on toward my nearest door, which was not that much farther up the hall. As I was reaching for it I felt the movement of a Trump contact. Coral?
I opened myself to it. Mandor appeared before me again.
“Are you all right?” he asked immediately. “We were cut off in such an odd fashion.”
“I’m fine,” I told him. “We were cut off in a once-in-a-lifetime fashion. Not to worry.”
“You seem a trifle agitated.”
“That’s because it’s an awfully long walk from downstairs to upstairs with all the powers of the universe converging to slow me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s been a rough day,” I said. “See you later.”
“I did want to talk with you some more, about those stones and the new Pattern and—”
“Later,” I said. “I’m waiting on an incoming call.”
“Sorry. No rush. I’ll check back.”
He broke the contact and I reached for the latch. I wondered whether it would solve everybody’s problems if I could turn Ghost into an answering service.
7
I hung my cloak on Jasra and my weapons belt on the bedpost. I cleaned my boots, washed my hands and face, hunted up a fancy ivory shirt—all ruffled, brocaded, frogged—and put it on, along with a pair of gray trousers. Then I brushed off my deep purple jacket, the one on which I’d once laid a spell to make the wearer seem a little more charming, witty, and trustworthy than is actually the case. It seemed a good occasion for getting some use out of it.
As I was brushing my hair there came a knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” I called.
I finished up—which left me ready to go and also, probably, running late—then went to the door, unbarred it, and opened it.
Bill Roth stood there in browns and reds, looking like an aging condottiere.
“Bill!” I said, clasping his hand, arm, and shoulder and leading him in. “Good to see you. I’m just back from some troubles and about to take off after more. I didn’t know whether you were here in the palace now or what. I was going to look you up again as soon as things slowed a bit.”
He smiled and punched my shoulder lightly.
“I’ll be at dinner,” he replied, “and Hendon said you’d be there, too. I thought I’d come up and walk over with you, though, since those Begman people will be there.”
“Oh? You got some news?”
“Yes. Any fresh word on Luke?”
“I was just talking to him. He says the vendetta’s off.”
“Any chance of his wanting to justify himself at that hearing you asked me about?”
“Not from the way he sounded.”
“Too bad. I’ve bean doing a lot of research, and there are some good precedents for the vendetta defense—like, there was your uncle Osric, who took on the whole House of Karen over the death of a relative on his mother’s side. Oberon was particularly friendly with Karen in those days, too, and Osric offed three of them. Oberon acquitted him at a hearing, though, basing his decision on earlier cases, and he even went further by stating a kind of general rule—”
“Oberon also sent him off to the front lines in a particularly nasty war,” I interrupted, “from which he did not return.”
“I wasn’t aware of that part,” Bill said, “but he did come off well in court.”
“I’ll have to mention it to Luke,” I said.
“Which part?” he asked.
“Both,” I answered.
“That wasn’t the main thing I came to tell you,” he went on. “There’s something going on at a military level.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s even easier to show you,” he explained. “It should only take a minute.”
“Okay. Let’s go,” I agreed, and I followed him out into the hall.
He led the way down the back stair and turned left at its foot. We moved on past the kitchen and followed another hallway which turned off toward the rear. As we did, I heard some rattling sounds from up ahead. I glanced at Bill, who nodded.
“That’s what I heard earlier,” he told me, “when I was passing by. That’s why I took a walk up this way. Everything around here makes me curious.”
I nodded, understanding the feeling. Especially when I knew that the sounds were coming from the main armory. Benedict stood in the midst of activity, peering at his thumbnail through a r
ifle barrel. He looked up immediately and our eyes met. Perhaps a dozen men moved about him, carrying weapons, cleaning weapons, stacking weapons.
“I thought you were in Kashfa,” I said.
“Was,” he replied.
I gave him a chance to continue, but nothing was forthcoming. Benedict has never been noted for loquacity.
“Looks like you’re getting ready for something close to home,” I remarked, knowing that gunpowder was useless here and that the special ammo we had only worked in the area of Amber and certain adjacent kingdoms.
“Always best to be safe,” he said.
“Would you care to elaborate on that?” I asked.
“Not now,” he answered, a reply twice as long as I’d anticipated and holding out hope of future enlightenment.
“Should we all be digging in?” I asked. “Fortifying the town? Arming ourselves? Raising—”
“It won’t come to that,” he said. “Just go on about your business.”
“But—”
He turned away. I’d a feeling the conversation was over. I was sure of it when he ignored my next several questions. I shrugged and turned back to Bill.
“Let’s go eat,” I said.
As we walked back up the hall, Bill said softly, “Any idea what it means?”
“Dalt’s in the neighborhood,” I told him.
“Benedict was in Begma with Random. Dalt could be causing trouble there.”
“I’ve a feeling he’s nearer.”
“If Dalt were to capture Random. . . . ”
“Impossible,” I said, feeling a slight chill at the idea.
“Random can trump back here anytime he wants. No. When I talked about defending Amber, and Benedict said, ‘It won’t come to that,’ I got the impression he was talking about something close at hand. Something he feels he can control.”
“I see what you mean,” he agreed. “But then he told you not to bother fortifying.”
“If Benedict feels we don’t need to fortify, then we don’t need to fortify.”
“Waltz and drink champagne while the cannons boom?”
“If Benedict says it’s okay.”
“You really trust that guy. What would you do without him?”
“Be more nervous,” I said.
He shook his head. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m not used to being acquainted with legends.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I shouldn’t believe you, but I do believe you. That’s the trouble.” He was silent as we turned the corner and headed back toward the stair. Then he added, “It was that way whenever I was around your father, too.”
“Bill,” I said, as we began to climb. “You knew my dad back before he regained his memory, when he was just plain old Carl Corey. Maybe I’ve been going about this thing wrong. Is there anything you can recall about that phase of his life which might explain where he is now?”
He halted a moment and looked at me.
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about that angle, Merle. Many a time I’ve wondered whether he might have been involved in something as Corey that he’d have felt obliged to follow through on once his business here was finished. But he was a very secretive man, even in that incarnation. Paradoxical, too. He’d done a lot of hitches in a lot of different varieties of military, which seems logical enough. But he sometimes wrote music, which goes against that hard-ass image.”
“He’d lived a long time. He’d learned a lot, felt lot.”
“Exactly, and that’s what makes it hard to guess why he might have been involved in. Once or twice when he’d had a few drinks he’d mention people in the arts and sciences I’d never have guessed him to be acquainted with. He was never just plain Carl Corey. He had a few centuries worth of Earth memory when I knew him. That makes for a character too complex to be easily predictable. I just don’t know what he might have gone back to—if he went back.”
We continued on up the stairway. Why did I feel that Bill knew more than he was telling me?
I heard music as we neared the dining room, and when we entered, Llewella gave me a nasty look. I saw that food was being kept warm at a serving table off against the far wall, and no one was seated yet. People stood about talking, drinks in hand, and most of them glanced in our direction as we entered. Three musicians were playing, off to my right. The dining table was to my left, near the big window in the south wall, providing a glorious view across the town below. It was still snowing lightly, casting a spectral veil over the entire bright prospect.
Llewella approached quickly.
“You’ve kept everybody waiting,” she whispered. “Where’s the girl?”
“Coral?”
“Who else?”
“I’m not sure where she’s gotten off to,” I said. “We parted company a couple of hours ago.”
“Well, is she coming or isn’t she?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We can’t keep things waiting any longer,” she said. “And now the seating arrangement’s screwed. What did you do, wear her out?”
“Llewella. . . . ”
She muttered something I didn’t understand in some lisping Rebman dialect. Just as well, probably. She turned away then and moved off toward Vialle.
“You in a heap of trouble, boy,” Bill commented at my side. “Let’s hit the bar while she’s reassigning places.”
But the wine steward was already approaching with a couple of drinks on a tray.
“Bayle’s Best,” he observed as we took them.
I sipped and saw that he was right, which heartened me a bit.
“I don’t recognize all of these people,” Bill said. “Who’s that fellow with the red sash, over by Vialle?”
“That’s Orkuz, the Begman prime minister,” I told him, “and the rather attractive lady in the yellow-and-red dress who’s talking to Martin is his daughter Nayda. Coral—the one I just got chewed out about—is her sister.”
“Uh-huh. And who’s the husky blond lady batting her eyes at Gerard?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “And I don’t know that lady and the guy over to the right of Orkuz either.”
We drifted inward, and Gerard, looking perhaps a trifle uncomfortable in layers of ruffled finery, introduced us to the lady he was with as Dretha Gannell, assistant to the Begman ambassador. The ambassador, it turned out, was the tall lady standing near Orkuz—and her name, I gathered, was Ferla Quist. The fellow with her was her secretary, whose name sounded something like Cade. While we were looking in that direction, Gerard tried slipping off and leaving us with Ferla. But she caught his sleeve and asked him something about the fleet. I smiled and nodded and moved away. Bill came along.
“Goodness! Martin’s changed!” he announced suddenly. “He Looks like a one-man rock video. I almost didn’t recognize him. Just last week—”
“It’s been over a year,” I said, “for him. He’s been off finding himself on some street scene.”
“I wonder if he’s finished?”
“Didn’t get a chance to ask him that,” I replied, but a peculiar thought occurred to me. I shelved it.
The music died just then, and Llewella cleared her throat and indicated Hendon, who announced the new seating arrangement. I was at the foot of the table, and I learned later that Coral was to have been seated to my left and Cade to my right. I also learned later that Llewella had tried to get hold of Flora at the last minute to sit in Coral’s place, but Flora wasn’t taking any calls.
As it was, Vialle, at the head, had Llewella seated to her right and Orkuz to her left, with Gerard, Dretha, and Bill below Llewella, and Ferla, Martin, Cade, and Nayda below Orkuz. I found myself escorting Nayda to the table and seating her to my right, while Bill settled himself at my left.
“Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Bill muttered softly, and I nodded, then introduced him to Nayda as counsel to the House of Amber. She looked impressed and asked him about his work. He proceeded to charm her with a story about once having represent
ed the interests of a dog in an estate settlement, which had nothing to do with Amber but was a good story. Got her to laughing a bit, and also Cade, who was listening in.
The first course was served and the musicians began playing again, softly, which shortened the distance our voices carried and reduced conversation to a more intimate level. At this, Bill signaled he had something he wanted to tell me, but Nayda had beaten him by a second or two and I was already listening to her.
“About Coral,” she said softly. “Are you sure she’s all right? She wasn’t feeling ill when you parted—or anything like that—was she?”
“No,” I answered. “She seemed healthy enough.”
“Strange,” she said. “I had the impression she was looking forward to things like this dinner.”
“She’s obviously taking longer than she’d intended in whatever she’s about,” I observed.
“What exactly was she about?” Nayda asked. “Where did you part?”
“Here in the palace,” I replied. “I was showing her around. She wanted to spend more time with certain features of the place than I could spare. So I came on ahead.”
“I don’t think she could have forgotten dinner.”
“I think she got caught up by the power of an artistic piece.”
“So she’s definitely on the premises?”
“Now, that’s hard to say. As I said before, a person can always step out.”
“You mean you’re not sure exactly where she is?” I nodded.
“I’m not certain where she is at this moment,” I said. “She could well be back in her room changing her clothes.”
“I’ll check after dinner,” she said, “if she hasn’t shown up by then. If that should be the case, will you help me find her?”
“I was planning on looking for her anyway,” I answered, “if she doesn’t put in an appearance soon.”
She nodded and continued eating. Very awkward.
Beyond the fact that I didn’t want to distress her, I couldn’t very well tell her what had happened without its becoming apparent that her sister was indeed an illegitimate daughter of Oberon. At a time such as this, when I had been cautioned about saying anything that might strain relations between Amber and Begma, I was not about to confirm to the daughter of the Begman prime minister the rumor that her mother had had an affair with the late king of Amber. Maybe it was an open secret back in Begma and nobody gave a damn. But maybe it wasn’t. I didn’t want to disturb Random for advice, partly because he might be extremely occupied in Kashfa just now, but mainly because he might also start asking me about my own immediate plans and problems, and I would not lie to him. That could get me into too much trouble. Such a conversation might well also result in his forbidding my attack on the Keep. The only other person I could tell about Coral and get some sort of official response from as to how far I might go in informing her family, was Vialle. Unfortunately, Vialle was completely occupied as hostess at the moment.
The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10 Page 138