“Do the people of Kashfa have any-uh-unusual physical endowments?” I asked.
She smiled. “Well, Jasrick was one hell of a fellow. But I wouldn’t use the word ‘unusual’ to-“
“No, no,” I interrupted. “What I meant was some sort of anomaly of the mouth-retractable fangs or a sting or something of that sort.”
“Un-uh,” she said, and I could not tell whether her heightened coloring came from the heat of the stove. “Nothing like that. They’re built along standard lines. Why do you ask?”
“When I told you my story back in Amber I omitted the part where Jasra bit me, and I was barely able to trump out because of some sort of poison she seemed to have injected. It left me numb, paralyzed and very weak for a long while.”
She shook her head.
“Kashfans can’t do anything like that. But then, of course, Jasra is not a Kashfan.”
“Oh? Where’s she from?”
“I don’t know. But she’s a foreigner. Some say a slaver brought her in from a distant land. Others say she just wandered in herself one day and caught Menillan’s eye. It was rumored she was a sorceress. I don’t know.”
“I do. That rumor is right.”
“Really? Perhaps that’s how she got Jasrick.”
I shrugged. “How long ago was your-experience-with her?”
“Thirty or forty years, I’d guess.”
“And she is still queen in Kashfa?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back that way.”
“Is Amber on bad terms with Kashfa?”
She shook her head. “No special terms at all, really. As I said, they’re a bit out of the way. Not as accessible as a lot of other places, with nothing greatly desirable for trade.”
“No real reason then for her to hate us?”
“No more than for hating anyone else.”
Some delightful cooking odors began to fill the room. As I sat there sniffing them and thinking of the long, hot shower I would head for after lunch, Flora said what I had somehow known she would say.
“That man who dragged Jasra back. . . . he looked familiar. Who was he?”
“He was the one I told you about back in Amber,” I replied. “Luke. I’m curious whether he reminds you of anyone.”
“He seems to,” she said, after a pause. “But I can’t say just who.”
As her back was to me I said, “If you’re holding anything that might break or spill if you drop it, please put it down.”
I heard something set to rest on the countertop. Then she turned, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Yes?”
“His real name is Rinaldo, and he’s Brand’s son,” I told her. “I was his prisoner for over a month in another shadow. I just now escaped.”
“Oh, my,” she whispered. Then, “What does he want?”
“Revenge,” I answered.
“Against anyone in particular?”
“No. All of us. But Caine, of course, was first.”
“I see.”
“Please don’t burn anything,” I said. “I’ve been looking forward to a good meal for a long time.”
She nodded and turned away. After a while she said, “You knew him for a pretty long time. What’s he like?”
“He always seemed to be a fairly nice guy. If he’s crazy, like his dad, he hid it well.”
She uncorked a wine bottle, poured two glasses and brought them over.
Then she began serving the meal.
After a few bites she paused with her fork half raised and stared at nothing in particular.
“Who’d have thought the son of a bitch would reproduce?” she remarked.
“Fiona, I think,” I told her. “The night before Caine’s funeral she asked me whether I had a photo of Luke. When I showed her one I could tell that something was bothering her, but she wouldn’t say what.”
“And the next day she and Bleys were gone,” Flora said. “Yes. Now I think of it, he does look somewhat the way Brand did when he was very young-so long ago. Luke seems bigger and heavier, but there is a resemblance.”
She resumed eating.
“By the way, this is very good,” I said.
“Oh, thanks.” She sighed then. “That means I have to wait till you’re finished eating to hear the whole story.”