“So how's Bleys?” I asked.
“He's much improved. I treated him myself and he's recovering quickly.”
I was about to ask her where he was, which I knew she would refuse to answer, and hopefully we would both smile when she saw what I was driving at: no address for Bleys, no address for Luke; we keep our secrets and stay friends.
“Hello!” I heard Mandor say, and we both turned in the direction he was facing-back out through the notch.
The dark tornado-form had collapsed to half its former size, and even as we watched, it continued to diminish. It fell steadily in upon itself, shrinking and shrinking, and in about a half minute it was gone, completely.
I could not suppress a smile, but Fiona did not even notice. She was looking at Mandor.
“Do you think it was because of what you did?” she asked him.
“I have no way of knowing,” he replied, “but it may well be.”
“But does it tell you anything?” she said.
“Perhaps whoever was responsible did not like having me tinker with his experiment.”
“You really believe there's an intelligence behind it?”
“Yes.”
“Someone from the Courts?”
“It seems more likely than someone from your end of the world.”
“I suppose so...,” she agreed. “Have you any guesses as to the person's identity?”
He smiled.
“I understand,” she said quickly. “Your business is your business. But a general threat is everybody's business. That's what I was really getting at.”
“True,” he acknowledged. “This is why I propose investigating it. I'm at loose ends at the moment. It might be amusing.”
“It is awkward asking you to communicate your findings to me,” she said, “when I do not know what interests might be involved.”
“I appreciate your position,” he replied, “but to the best of my knowledge the treaty provisions still hold and no one in the Courts is promoting any special designs against Amber. In fact... If you like, we might pursue the matter together, at least part of the way.”
“I've got the time,” she said.
“I don't,” I injected quickly. “I've some pressing business to attend to.”
Mandor shifted his attention to me.
“About my offer...,” he said.
“I can't,” I told him.
“Very well. Our conversation is not concluded, however. I'll be in touch later.”
“Okay.”
Fiona looked my way then, also.
“You will keep me posted on Luke's recovery, and his intentions,” she stated.
“Of course.”
“Good day, then.”
Mandor gave me a small half salute and I returned . it.
I began walking then, and as soon as I was out of sight I began shifting.
I found my way to a rocky slope, where I halted at withdrew my Trump for Amber. I raised it, focused my awareness, and transported myself as soon as I felt my way through. I was hoping the main hall would be empty, but at this point I didn't really care that much.
I came through near Jasra, who was holding an extra cloak over her outstretched left arm. I ducked out the doorway to my left into an empty corridor and made my way to the back stair. Several times I heard voices and I detoured to avoid the speakers. I was able to make it to my rooms without being discovered.
The only rest I had had in what seemed an age and a half had been a fifteen-minute nap before Luke's spaced-out sorcerous faculty had caused him to summon me to the Looking Glass Bar via a hallucinatory Trump. When? For all I knew, it could have been yesterday-which had been a very full day before that incident.
I barred the door and staggered to the bed, flinging myself down upon it without even removing my boots. Sure, there were all sorts of things I should be doing, but I was in no condition for any of them. I'd returned home because I still felt safest in Amber; despite the fact that Luke had reached me here once.
Someone with a high-powered subconscious might have had a brilliantly revelatory dream following as much crap as I'd been through recently, and then have awakened with a wonderful series of insights and answers detailing appropriate courses of action. I didn't. I woke once, in a small panic, not knowing where I was. But I opened my eyes and satisfied myself on that count, then went back to sleep. Later-much later, it seemed-I returned by degrees, like some piece of flotsam being pushed higher and higher onto a beach by wave following wave, until finally I was there. I saw no reason for going any further until I realized that my feet hurt. Then I sat up and pulled my boots off, which might have been one of the six greatest pleasures in my life. I removed my socks in a hurry then and threw them into the corner of the room. Why doesn't anyone else in my line of work seem to get sore feet? I filled the basin and soaked them for a time, then resolved to go barefoot for the next few hours.
Finally I rose, stripped, cleaned up, and put on a pair of Levi's and a purple flannel shirt of which I am fond. The hell with swords, daggers, and cloaks for a time. I opened the shutters and looked outside. It was dark. Because of clouds, I couldn't even guess from the stars whether it might be early evening, late night, or almost morning.
It was very quiet in the hall, and there were no sounds as I made my way down the back stair. The kitchen was deserted also, the big fires banked and smoldering low. I didn't want to stir things up beyond hanging a pot of water to warm for tea while I located some bread and fruit preserves. I turned up a jug of something like grapefruit juice, too, in one of the walk-in ice boxes.
As I sat warning my feet and working my way through the loaf, I began to feel uneasy. I was sipping my tea before I realized what it was. There seemed a great necessity that I be doing something, yet I had no idea what. Now I had something of a breather, and it felt strange. So I decided to start thinking again.
By the time I'd finished eating, I had a few small plans. The first thing I did was to make my way to the main halt, where I removed all of the hats and cloaks form Jasra and swept her off her feet. Later, as I was bearing her stiff form along the upstairs hallway in the direction of my room, a door opened partway and a bleary-eyed Droppa watched me go by.
“Hey, I'II take two!” he tailed after me.
“Reminds me of any first wife,” he added then, and closed the door.
Once I had her installed in my quarters, I drew up a chair and seated myself before her. Garishly clad as part of a savage joke, her hard sort of beauty was not really diminished. She had placed me in extreme peril on one occasion, and I had no desire to free her at a time like this for a possible repeat performance. But the spell that held her claimed my attention for more than one reason and I wanted to understand it fully.
Carefully then, I began exploring the construct which held her. It was not overcomplicated, but I could see that tracing all of its byways was going to take a while. All right. I wasn't about to stop now. I pushed on ahead into the spell, taking mental notes as I went.
I was busy for hours. After I had solved the spell, I decided to hang some more of my own, times being what they were. The castle came awake about me as I worked. I labored steadily as the day progressed, until everything was in place and I was satisfied with my work. I was also famished.
I moved Jasra off into a corner, pulled on my boots, departed my quarters, and headed for the stair. In that it seemed about lunchtime I checked out the several dining rooms in which the family generally ate. But all of them were deserted and none of them were set up for a meal yet to come. Nor did any of them show signs of a meal having recently been dispatched.
I suppose it was possible my time sense was , still skewed and I was much too late or too early; but it did seem that it had been daylight long enough to bring me into the vicinity of the proper hour. Nobody, however, seemed to be eating, so something had to be wrong with this assumption...
Then I heard it-the faint click of cutlery upon plate. I headed in the apparent dire
ction of the sound. Obviously, the meal was taking place in a less frequented setting than usual. I turned right, then left. Yes, they had decided to set up in a drawing room. No matter.
I entered the room, whew Llewella was seated with Random's wife, Vialle, on the red divan, dinner laid on a low table before them. Michael, who worked in the kitchen, stood nearby behind a cart loaded with dishes. I cleared my throat.
“Merlin, “Vialle announced with a sensitivity that always gives me a small chill-she being completely blind. “How pleasant!''
“Hello,” Llewella said. “Come and join us. We're anxious to hear what you've been doing.”
I drew a chair up to the far side of the table and seated myself. Michael came over and laid a fresh setting before me. I thought about it quickly. Anything Vialle heard would doubtless get back to Random. So I gave them a somewhat edited version of recent events-leaving out all references to Mandor, Fiona, and anything having to do with the Courts. It made for a considerably shorter story and let me get to my food sooner.
“Everybody's been so busy lately,” Llewella remarked. when I'd finished talking. “It almost makes me feel guilty.”
I studied the delicate green of her more-than-olive complexion; her full lips, her large catlike eyes.
“But not quite,” she added.
“Where are they all, anyway?” I asked. “Gerard,” she said, “is down seeing to harbor forti– fications, and Julian is in command of the army, which has now been equipped with some firearms and is set to defend the approaches to Kolvir.”.
“You mean Dalt has something in the field already? Coming this way?”
She shook her head. “No, it was a precautionary measure,” she replied, “because of that message from Luke. Dalt's force had not actually been sighted.”
“Does anyone even know where he is?” I asked..
“Not yet,” she answered, “but we're expecting some intelligence on that soon.” She shrugged. Then, “Perhaps Julian already has it,” she added.
“Why is Julian in command?” I asked between nibbles. “I'd have thought Benedict would take charge of something like this.”
Llewella looked away, glancing at Vialle, who seemed to feel the shifting of focus.
“Benedict and a small force of his men have escorted Random to Kashfa,” Vialle said, softly.
“Kashfa?” I said: “Why would he want to do that? In fact, Dalt usually hangs out around Kashfa. The area could be dangerous right now.”
She smiled faintly.
“That is why he wanted Benedict and his guard for escort,” she said. “They may even be the intelligence– gathering expedition themselves, though that's not their reason for going right now.”
“I don't understand,” I said, “why the trip should be necessary at all.”
She took a sip of water.
“A sudden political upheaval,” she replied: “Some general had taken over in the absence of the queen and the crown prince: The general was just assassinated recently, and Random has succeeded in obtaining agreement for placing his own candidate-an older noblemanon the throne.”
“How'd he do that?”
“Everyone with an interest in the matter was even more interested in seeing Kashfa admitted to the Golden Circle of privileged trade status.”
“So Random bought them off to see his own man in charge,” I observed. “Don't these Golden Circle treaties usually give us the right to move troops through a client kingdom's territory with very little in the way of preliminaries?”
“Yes,” she said.
I suddenly recalled that tough-looking emissary of the Crown I'd met at Bloody Bill's, who had paid his tab in Kashfan currency. I decided I did not really want to know how close in point of time that was to the assassination that had made this recent arrangement possible. What struck me with more immediate force was the picture that now emerged: It looked as if Random had just blocked Jasra and Luke from recovering their usurped thronewhich, to be fair, I guess Jasra had usurped herself, years ago. With all that usurping going on, the equities of the thing were more than a little hazy to me. But if Random's ethics were no better than those which had gone before, they were certainly no worse. It looked now, though, as if any attempt on the part of Luke to regain his mother's throne would be met by a monarch who possessed a defense alliance with Amber. I suddenly felt willing to bet that the terms of the defense provisions of the alliance included Amber's assistance in internal troubles as well as help against outside aggressors.
Fascinating. It sounded as if Random were going to an awful lot of trouble to isolate Luke from his power base and any semblance of legitimacy as a head of state. I supposed the next step could be to get him outlawed as a pretender and a dangerous revolutionary, and to put a price on his head. Was Random overreacting? Luke didn't seem all that dangerous now, especially with his mother in our custody. On the other hand, I didn't really know how far Random intended to go: Was he just foreclosing all of the threatening options, or was he actually out to get Luke? The latter possibility bothered me in that Luke seemed on halfway good behavior at the moment and possibly in the throes of reconsidering his position. I did not want to see him needlessly thrown to the wolves as a result of overkill on Random's part.
So, “I suppose this has a lot to do with Luke,” I said. to Vialle.
She was silent for a moment, then replied, “It was Dalt that he seemed concerned about.”
I shrugged mentally. It seemed that it would come down to the same thing in Random's mind, since he would see Dalt as the military force Luke would turn to to recover the throne. So I said, “Oh,” and went on eating.
There were no new facts to be had beyond this, and nothing to clarify Random's thinking any further, so we lapsed into small talk while I considered my position once again. It still came down to a feeling that urgent action was necessary and uncertainty as to what form it should take. My course was determined in an unexpected fashion sometime during dessert.
A courtier named Randel-tall, thin, dark, and gener– ally smiling-came into the room. I knew something was up because he was not smiling and he was moving faster than usual. He swept us with his gaze, fixed upon Vialle, advanced quickly and cleared his throat.
“M'lady Majesty..?” he began.
Vialle turned her head slightly in his direction:
“Yes, Randel?” she said. “What is it?”
“The delegation from Begma has just arrived,” he answered, “and I find myself without instructions as to the nature of their welcome and any special arrangements that would be suitable.”
“Oh dear'“ Vialle said; laying aside her fork. “They weren't due until the day after tomorrow, when Random will be back. He's the one they'll be wanting to complain to. What have you done with them?”
“I seated them in the Yellow Room,” he replied, “and told them I would go and announce their arrival.”
She nodded.
“How many of them are there?”
“The prime minister, Orkuz,” he said, “his secretary, Nayda-who is also his daughter-and another daughter, Coral. There are also four servants-two men and two women.”
“Go and inform the household staff, and be sure that appropriate quarters are made ready for them,” she directed, “and alert the kitchen. They may not have had lunch.”
“Very good, Your Highness,” he said, beginning to back away.
“...Then report to me in the Yellow Room, to let me know it's been done,” she continued, “and I'll give you additional instruictions at that time.”
“Consider it done,” he replied, and he hurried off.
“Merlin, Llewella,” Vialle said, beginning to rise, “come help me entertain them while arrangements are being made.”
I gulped my last bite of dessert and got to my feet: I did not really feel like talking to a diplomat and his party, but I was handy and it was one of life's little duties.
“Uh... What are they here for, anyway?” I asked.
�
��Some sort of protest over what we've been doing in Kashfa,” she replied. “They've never been friendly with Kashfa, but I'm not sure now whether they're here to protest Kashfa's possible admission to the Golden Circle or whether they're upset about our interfering in Kashfa's domestic affairs. It could be they're afraid they'll lose business with such a close neighbor suddenly enjoying the same preferred trade status they have. Or it may be they had different plans for Kashfa's throne and we just foreclosed them. Maybe. both. Whatever... We can't tell them anything we don't know.”
“I just wanted to know what subjects to avoid,” I said. “All of the above,'' she answered.
“I was wondering the same thing myself,” Llewella said. “I was also wondering, though, whether they might have any useful information on Dalt. Their intelligence service must keep a close eye on doings in and abou Kashfa.”
“Don't pursue that topic,” Vialle said, moving toward the door. “If they let something slip or want to give something away, fine. Bring it home. But don't show them you'd like. to know.”
Vialle took my arm and I guided her out, heading toward the Yellow Room. Llewella produced a small mirror from somewhere and inspected her features. Obviously pleased, she put it away, then remarked, “Lucky you showed up, Merlin. An extra smiling face is always useful at times like this.”
“Why don't I feel lucky?” I said.
We made our way to the room where the prime minister and his daughters waited. Their servants had already retired to the kitchen for refreshments. The official party was still hungry, which says something about protocol, especially since it seemed to take a long while before some trays of provender could be attractively assembled. Orkuz was of medium stature and stocky, his black hair tastefully streaked, the lines on his broad face seeming to indicate that he did a lot more frowning than smiling-a practice in which he indulged most of the while that afternoon. Nayda's was a more pleasingly sculpted version of his face, and though she showed the same tendency towardl corpulence, it was held firmly in check at an attractive level of roundedness. Also, she smiled a lot and she had pretty teeth. Coral, on the other hand, was taller than either her father or sister, slender, her hair a reddish brown. When she smiled it seemed less official. Also, there was something vaguely familiar about her. I wondered whether I had met her at some boring reception years before. If I had, though, I felt I might have remembered.
The Great Book of Amber Page 130