“Take this room,” she said, opening a darkwood door, and I nodded as I entered and looked about. It was spacious, with big windows looking out over the valley to the south. Most of the servants were at the Baron’s place in town for the season. “There is a bath in the next room,” she told me, indicating a door to my left.
“Great. Thanks. Just what I need.”
“So repair yourself as you would.” She crossed to the window and looked downward. “I’ll meet you on that terrace in about an hour, if that is agreeable.”
I went over and looked down upon a large flagged area, well shaded by ancient trees-their leaves now yellow, red and brown, many of them dotting the patio – the place bordered by flower beds, vacant now, a number of tables and chairs arranged upon it, a collection of potted shrubs well disposed among them.
“Fine.”
She turned toward me. “Is there anything special you would like?”
“If there is any coffee about, I wouldn’t mind another cup or two when I meet you out there.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She smiled and seemed to sway slightly toward me for a moment. It almost seemed in that instant as if she wanted me to embrace her. But if she did not, it could be slightly awkward. And under the circumstances I wanted no familiarity with her anyway, having no idea as to the sort of game she was playing. So I returned her smile, reached out and squeezed her arm, said, “Thank you,” and stepped away. “I guess I’ll see about that bath now.”
I saw her to the door and let her out.
It was good to get my boots off. It was far better to soak, for a long, warm time.
Later, in fresh-conjured attire, I made my way downstairs and located a side door that let of the kitchen onto the patio. Vinta, also scrubbed and refitted, in brown riding pants and a loose tan blouse, sat beside a table at the east end of the patio. Two places were set upon it, and I saw a coffeepot and a tray of fruit and cheeses. I crossed over, leaves crunching beneath my feet, and sat down.
“Did you find everything to your satisfaction?” she asked me.
“Entirely,” I replied.
“And you’ve notified Amber of your whereabouts?”
I nodded. Random had been a bit irritated at my taking off without letting him know, but then he had never told me not to. He was less irritated, however, when he learned that I hadn’t gone all that far, and he even acknowledged finally that perhaps I had done a prudent thing in disappearing following such a peculiar attack. “Keep your eyes open and keep me posted,” were his final words.
“Good. Coffee?”
“Please.”
She poured and gestured toward the tray. I took an apple and took a bite.
“Things have begun happening,” she said ambiguously, as she filled her own cup.
“I can’t deny it,” I acknowledged.
“And your troubles have been manifold.”
“True.”
She took a sip of coffee. “Would you care to tell me about them?” she finally said.
“They’re a little too manifold,” I replied. “You said something last night about your story being a long one, too.”
She smiled faintly. “You must feel you have no reason to trust me more than necessary at this point,” she said. “I can see that. Why trust anyone you don’t have to when something dangerous is afoot, something you do not completely understand? Right?”
“It does strike me as a sound policy.”
“Yet I assure you that your welfare is of the highest concern to me.”
“Do you think I may represent a means of getting at Caine’s killer?”
“Yes,” she said, “and insofar as they may become your killers I would like to get at them.”
“Are you trying to tell me that revenge is not your main objective?”
“That’s right. I would rather protect the living than avenge the dead.”
“But that part becomes academic if it’s the same individual in both cases. Do you think it is?”
“I am not certain,” she said, “that it was Luke who sent those men after you last night.”