Trumps of Doom

Chapter 7

Random looked startled as the two of us came through into the library. He rose to his feet, which still left him shorter than either of us, and he shifted his attention to Bill.

“Merlin, who’s this?” he asked.

“Your attorney, Bill Roth,” I said. “You’ve always dealt with him through agents in the past. I thought you might like to — ”

Bill began dropping to one knee, “Your Majesty,” on his lips, but Random caught him by the shoulders.

“Cut the crap,” he said. “We’re not in Court.” He clasped his hand, then said, “Call me Random. I’ve always intended to thank you personally for the work you did on that treaty. Never got around to it, though. Good to meet you.”

I’d never seen Bill at a loss for words before, but he just stared, at Random, at the room, out of the window at a distant tower.

Finally, “It’s real…” I heard him whisper moments later.

“Did I not see someone springing toward you?” Random said to me, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. “And surely your last words back there were not addressed to me?”

“We were having a little problem,” I answered. “That’s the real reason I brought Bill along. You see, someone’s been trying to kill me, and — ”

Random raised his hand. “Spare me the details for the moment. I’ll need them all later, but — but let it be later. There is more nastiness than usual afoot at the moment, and yours may well be a part of it. But I’ve got to breathe a bit.”

It was only then that some deepened lines in his naturally youthful face registered and I began to realize that he was under a strain.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Caine is dead. Murdered,” he replied. “This morning.”

“How did it happen?”

“He was off in Shadow Deiga — a distant port with which we have commerce. He was with Gerard, to renegotiate an old trade agreement. He was shot, through the heart. Died instantly.”

“Did they catch the bowman?”

“Bowman, hell! It was a rifleman, on a rooftop. And he got away.”

“I thought gunpowder didn’t work around here.” He made a quick palms up gesture.

“Deiga may be far enough off in Shadow for it to work. Nobody here can remember ever testing any there. For that matter, though, your father once came up with a compound that worked here.”

“True. I’d almost forgotten.”

“Anyway, the funeral is tomorrow — ”

“Bill! Merlin!”

My aunt Flora — who had turned down Rossetti’s offers, one of them being to model for him — had entered the room. Tall, slim and burnished, she hurried forward and kissed Bill on the cheek. I had never seen him blush before. She repeated the act for me, too, but I was less moved, recalling that she had once been my father’s warden.

“When did you get in?” Her voice was lovely, too.

“Just now,” I said.

She immediately linked arms with both of us and attempted to lead us off.

“We have so much to talk about,” she began.

“Flora!” This from Random.

“Yes, brother?”

“You may give Mr. Roth the full tour, but I require Merlin’s presence for a time.”

She pouted slightly for a moment, then released my arm. “Now you know what an absolute monarchy is,” she explained to Bill. “You can see how power corrupts.”

“I was corrupt before I had power,” Random said, “and rich is better. You have my leave to depart, sister.”

She sniffed and led Bill away.

“It’s always quieter around here when she fords a boyfriend off somewhere in Shadow,” Random observed. “Unfortunately, she’s been home for the better part of a year this time.”

I made a tsking sound.

He gestured toward a chair and I took it. He crossed to a cabinet then.

“Wine?” he asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He poured two glasses, brought me one, and seated himself in a chair to my left, a small table between us. “Someone also took a shot at Bleys,” he said, “this afternoon, in another shadow. Hit him, too, but not bad. Gunman got away Bleys was just on a diplomatic mission to a friendly kingdom.”

“Same person, you think?”

“Sure. We’ve never had rifle sniping in the neighborhood before. Then two, all of a sudden? It must be the same person. Or the same conspiracy.”

“Any clues?”

He shook his head and tasted the wine.

“I wanted to talk to you alone,” he said then, “before any of the others got to you. There are two things I’d like you to know.”

I sipped the wine and waited.

“The first is that this really scares me. With the attempt on Bleys it no longer appears to have been simply a personal thing directed at Caine. Somebody seems to have it in for us — or at least some of us. Now you say there’s someone after you, too.”

“I don’t know whether there’s any connection — ”

“Well, neither do I. But I don’t like the possible pattern I see developing. My worst fear is that it may be one or more of us behind it.”

“Why?” He glowered into his goblet.

“For centuries the personal vendetta has been our way of settling disagreements, not necessarily proceeding inevitably to death — though that was always a possibility — but certainly characterized by intrigues, to the end of embarrassing, disadvantaging, maiming, or exiling the other and enhancing one’s own position. This reached its latest peak in the scramble for the succession. I thought everything was pretty much settled, though, when I wound up with the job, which I certainly wasn’t looking for. I had no real axes to grind, and I’ve tried to be fair. I know how touchy everyone here 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 or 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 Bleys — everyone could find 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 how 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,” 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, Fiona — who 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 the 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 happened, 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 Brutus 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…

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 — 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 circumstances 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.

How much longer should I give the mystery voice? Should I just assume it had been George Hansen, 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…

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 like 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 from 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.