I put Grayswandir aside, seized Benedict under the armpits, and dragged him back from the black road. The grasses resisted mightily, but I strained against them and finally had him free.
Ganelon had gotten to his feet by then. He limped up and stood beside me, looking down at Benedict.
“What a fellow he is,” he said. “What a fellow he is. . . . What are we going to do with him?”
I picked him up in a fireman’s carry and stood.
“Take him back toward the wagon right now,” I said. “Will you bring the blades?”
“All right.”
I headed up the road and Benedict remained unconscious-which was good, because I did not want to have to hit him again if I could help it. I deposited him at the base of a sturdy tree beside the road near the wagon.
I resheathed our blades when Ganelon came up, and set him to stripping ropes from several of the cases. While he did this, I searched Benedict and found what I was looking for.
I bound him to the tree then, while Ganelon fetched his horse. We tethered it to a nearby bush, upon which I also hung his blade.
Then I mounted to the driver’s seat of the wagon and Ganelon came up alongside.
“Are you just going to leave him there?” he asked.
“For now,” I said.
We moved on up the road. I did not look back, but Ganelon did.
“He hasn’t moved yet,” he reported. Then, “Nobody ever just took me and threw me like that. With one hand yet.”
“That’s why I told you to wait with the wagon, and not to fight with him if I lost.”
“What is to become of him now?”
“I will see that he is taken care of, soon.”
“He will be all right, though?”
I nodded.
“Good.”
We continued on for perhaps two miles and I halted the horses. I climbed down.
“Don’t be upset by anything that happens,” I said. “I am going to make arrangements for Benedict now.” I moved off the road and stood in the shade, taking out the deck of Trumps Benedict had been carrying. I riffled through them, located Gerard, and removed him from the pack. The rest I returned to the silk-lined, wooden case, inlaid with bone, in which Benedict had carried them.
I held Gerard’s Trump before me and regarded it.
After a time, it grew warm, real, seemed to stir. I felt Gerard’s actual presence. He was in Amber. He was walking down a street that I recognized. He looks a lot like me, only larger, heavier. I saw that he still wore his beard.
He halted and stared.
“Corwin!”
“Yes, Gerard. You are looking well.”
“Your eyes! You can see?”
“Yes, I can see again.”
“Where are you?”
“Come to me now and I will show you.” His gaze tightened.
“I am not certain that I can do that, Corwin. I am very involved just now.”
“It is Benedict,” I said. “You are the only one I can trust to help him.”
“Benedict? He is in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does he not summon me himself?”
“He is unable to. He is restrained.”
“Why? How?”
“It is too long and involved to go into now. Believe me, he needs your help, right away.”
He raked his beard with his upper teeth. “And you cannot handle it yourself?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And you think I can?”
“I know you can.”
He loosened his blade in its scabbard.
“I would not like to think this is some sort of trick, Corwin.”
“I assure you it is not. With all the time I have had to think, I would have come up wtih something a little more subtle.”
He sighed. Then he nodded. “All right. I’m coming to you.”
“Come ahead.”
He stood for a moment, then took a step forward.
He stood beside me. He reached out and clasped my shoulder. He smiled.
“Corwin,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve your eyes back.”
I looked away.
“So am I. So am I.”
“Who is that in the wagon?”
“A friend. His name is Ganelon.”
“Where is Benedict? What is the problem?” I gestured.