For the first time, she directed a narrow-eyed, teeth-clenched expression toward me.
“Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you, Merlin?”
“Really, what I see is that you want information I have,” I said, “and that’s okay. I’m willing to deal because you seem to know things I want, too. But I’ve got to admit that your reasons are murky to me. How the hell did you get to Berkeley? What were you doing calling me at Bill’s place? What is this power of yours you say isn’t sorcery? How-“
“That’s three questions,” she said, “and the beginning of a fourth. Would you prefer to write them all out, and have me do the same for you? Then we can both go off to our rooms and decide which ones we want to answer?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m willing to play the game. But you are aware of my reason for wanting to know these things. It’s a matter of self-preservation to me. I thought at first that you wanted information that would help you to nail the man who killed Caine. But you said no, and you didn’t give me anything to put in its place.”
“I did, too! I want to protect you!”
“I appreciate the sentiment. But why? When it comes down to it, you hardly know me.”
“Nevertheless, that is my reason and I don’t feel like going behind it. Take it or leave it.”
I got to my feet and began pacing the patio. I didn’t like the thought of giving away information that could be vital to my security, and ultimately that of Amber-though I had to admit I was getting a pretty good return for what I’d given. Her stuff did sound right. For that matter, the Bayles had a long history of loyalty to the Crown, for whatever that was worth. The thing that bothered me the most, I decided, was her insistence that it was not actually revenge that she was after. Apart from this being a very un-Amberlike attitude, if she were any judge at all as to what would go over with me she need but have agreed that blood was what she wanted, in order to make her concern intelligible. I would have bought it without looking any further. And what did she offer in its place? Airy nothings and classified motives. . . .
Which could well mean she was telling the truth. Disdaining the use of a workable lie and offering something more cumbersome in its place would seem the mark of genuine honesty. And she did, apparently, have more answers that I wanted
I heard a small rattling sound from the table. I thought at first that she might be drumming on it with her fingertips as a sign of her irritation with me. But when I glanced back I saw that she was sitting perfectly still, not even looking at me.
I drew nearer, seeking the source. The ring, the pieces of blue stone and even the button were jiggling about on the tabletop, as of their own accord.
“Something you’re doing?” I asked
“No,” she replied.
The stone in the ring cracked and fell out of its setting.
“What, then?”
“I broke a link,” she said. “I believe something may be trying to reestablish it and failing.”
“Even so, if I’m still attuned they don’t need them in order to locate me, do they?”
“There may be more than one party involved,” she observed. “I think I should have a servant ride back to town and throw the things into the ocean. If someone wishes to follow them there, fine.”
“The chips should just lead back to the cave, and the ring to the dead man,” I said. “But I’m not ready to throw the button away.”
“Why not? It represents a big unknown.”
“Exactly. But these things would have to work both ways, wouldn’t they?
That would mean that I could learn to use the button to find my way to the flower thrower.”
“That could be dangerous.”
“And not doing it could prove more dangerous in the long run. No, you can throw the rest of them into the sea, but not the button.”