“Everything I told you is true,” she replied, in unaccented English.
“Where’d you learn it?”
“On the shadow Earth where you went to school.”
“Would you care to tell me what you were doing there?”
“I was on a special mission.”
“For your father? For the Crown?”
“I’d rather not answer you at all than lie to you.”
“I appreciate that. Of course, I must speculate.”
She shrugged.
“You said you were in Berkeley?” I asked.
A hesitation, then, “Yes.”
“I don’t remember ever seeing you around.”
Another shrug. I wanted to grab her and shake her. Instead, I said,
“You knew about Meg Devlin. You said you were in New York-“
“I believe you’re getting ahead of me on questions.”
“I didn’t know we were playing the game again. I thought we were just talking.”
“All right, then: Yes.”
“Tell me one more thing and perhaps I can help you.”
She smiled. “I don’t need any help. You’re the one with problems:”
“May I, anyway?”
“Go ahead and ask. Every time you question me you tell me things I wish to know.”
“You knew about Luke’s mercenaries. Did you visit New Mexico, too?”
“Yes, I’ve been there.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“You’ve come to some conclusion?”
“Perhaps.”
“Care to tell me what it is?”
I smiled and shook my head.
I left it at that. A few oblique queries on her part as we rode on led me to believe that I had her wondering what I might have guessed or suddenly seen. Good. I was determined to let it smolder. I needed something to balance her reticence on those points about which I was most curious, to lead hopefully to a full trade of information. Besides, I had reached a peculiar conclusion concerning her. It was not complete, but if it were correct I would require the rest of the answer sooner or later. So it was not exactly as if I were setting up a bluff.
The afternoon was golden, orange, yellow, red about us, with an autumn-damp smell behind the cool nips of the breezes. The sky was very blue, like certain stones. . . .
Perhaps ten minutes later I asked her a more neutral question. “Could you show me the road to Amber?”
“You don’t know it?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never been this way before. All I know is that there are overland routes coming through here that lead to the Eastern Gate.”
“Yes,” she said. “A bit farther to the north, I believe. Let’s go find it.”
She headed back to a road we had followed for a time earlier and we turned right on it, which seemed logical. I did not remark on her vagueness, though I expected a comment from her before too long in that I had not elaborated on my plans and I’d a feeling she was hoping that I would.
Perhaps three quarters of a mile later we came to a crossroads. There was a low stone marker at the far left corner giving the distance to Amber, the distance back to Baylesport, the distance to Baylecrest in the east and to a place called Murn, straight ahead.
“What’s Murn?” I asked.
“A little dairy village.”
No way I could check that, without traveling six leagues.
“You plan on riding back to Amber?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Why not just use a Trump?”
“I want to get to know the area better. It’s my home. I like it here.”
“But I explained to you about the danger. The stones have marked you. You can be tracked.”
“That doesn’t mean I will be tracked. I doubt that whoever sent the ones I met last night would even be aware this soon that they’d found me and failed. They’d still be lurking about if I hadn’t decided to go out for dinner. I’m sure I have a few days’ grace in which to remove the markings you spoke of.”
She dismounted and let her horse nibble a few blades of grass. I did the same. Dismounted, that is.
“You’re probably right. I just don’t like to see you taking any chances,” she said. “When are you planning on heading back?”