“Huh! If it weren’t for you there wouldn’t have been any funeral.”
“Don’t give me that indignation crap, Merle. If it had been your dad, Corwin, he’d killed, wouldn’t you have gone after him?”
“That’s not fair. My father wouldn’t have done all those things Brand did.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But supposing he had? Even then. Wouldn’t you have gone after Caine?”
I turned away. “I don’t know,” I said finally. “It’s too damned hypothetical.”
“You’d have done it. I know you, Merle. I’m sure you would have.”
I sighed. “Maybe,” I said. “Well, okay. Maybe I might have. But I would have stopped there. I wouldn’t have gone after the others too. I don’t want to make you feel any worse than you do about it, but your old man was psycho; you must know that. And you’re not. I know you as well as you know me. I’ve been thinking about this for some time. You know, Amber recognizes the personal vendetta. You’ve got an arguable case there for one. And the death didn’t even occur within Amber, if Random were really looking for an out for you.”
“Why should he be?”
“Because I’d be vouching for your integrity in other matters.”
“Come on, Merle-“
“You’ve got a classic vendetta defense – a son avenging his father’s death.”
“I don’t know. . . . Hey, you trying to get out of telling me the stuff you promised to?”
“No, but “
“So you made it to the Keep of the Four Worlds. What did you learn there and how did you learn it?”
“Okay. You think about what I said, though,” I replied.
His expression remained unchanged.
Then, “There was an old hermit named Dave,” I began.
Luke fell asleep before I finished. I just let my voice trail off and sat there. After a time, I rose and located the wine bottle and poured a little into the glass, since Luke had drunk most of mine. I took it with me to the window and stared down and out across the patio, where the wind was rattling leaves. I wondered about what I’d said to Luke. It wasn’t a full picture I’d given him, partly because I hadn’t had time to go into it thoroughly, mainly because he hadn’t seemed interested. But even if Random did let him off the hook officially in the matter of Caine’s death, Julian or Gerard would probably be looking to kill him under the same vendetta code I’d been talking about. I didn’t really know what to do. I was obliged to tell Random about him, but I’d be damned if I’d do it yet. There were still too many things I had to learn from him, and getting at him might be a lot harder if he were a prisoner back in Amber. Why had he ever gotten himself born as Brand’s son, anyway?
I returned to the bedside seat, near which I had left our weapons and Luke’s Trumps. I moved these items across the room, to where I seated myself in the more comfortable chair I had occupied earlier. I studied his cards again. Amazing. A whole bunch of history in my hand. . . .
When Oberon’s wife Rilga had shown less hardihood than many by aging rapidly and retiring to a reclusive life at a country shrine, he had gone off and remarried, somewhat to the chagrin of their children-Caine, Julian and Gerard. But to confuse genealogists and sticklers for family legality, he had done it in a place where time flowed far more rapidly than in Amber. Interesting arguments both for and against the bigamous nature of his marriage to Harla may be made. I’m in no position to judge. I had the story from Flora years ago, and in that she’d never gotten along too well with Delwin and Sand, the offspring of that union, she was inclined to the pro-bigamy interpretation. I’d never seen pictures of Delwin or Sand until now. There weren’t any hanging around the palace, and they were seldom mentioned. But they had lived in Amber for the relatively short time Harla was queen there. Following her death, they grew unhappy with Oberon’s policies toward her homeland-which they visited often-and after a time they departed, vowing not to have anything to do with Amber again. At least that’s the way I’d heard it. There could easily have been all sorts of sibling politicking involved, too. I don’t know.