I nodded.
“However, brother Corwin, remember that while I’ve never done you much good, I’ve never done you any especial harm either. Oh, a few pranks, I’ll admit. But, all in all, you might say we’ve gotten along best of all in the family—that is, we’ve stayed out of each other’s ways. Think it over. I believe I hear Flora or her woman coming now, so let’s change the subject. . . . But quick I don’t suppose you have a deck of the family’s favorite playing cards around, do you?”
I shook my head.
Flora entered the room and said, “Carmella will bring in some food shortly.”
We drank to that, and he winked at me behind her back.
The following morning, the bodies were gone from the living room, there were no stains upon the carpet, the window appeared to have been repaired, and Random explained that he had ”taken care of things.” I did not see fit to question him further.
We borrowed Flora’s Mercedes and went for a drive. The countryside seemed strangely altered. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was that was missing or new, but somehow things felt different. This, too, gave me a headache when I attempted to consider it, so I decided to suspend such thinking for the nonce.
I was at the wheel, Random at my side. I observed that I would like to be back in Amber again—just to see what sort of response it would obtain.
“I have been wondering,” he replied, “whether you were out for vengeance, pure and simple, or something more,” thereby shifting the ball back to me, to answer or not to answer, as I saw fit.
I saw fit. I used the stock phrase:
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” I said, “trying to figure my chances. You know, I just might ‘try.’”
He turned toward me then (he had been staring out of the side window) and said:
“I suppose we’ve all had that ambition, or at least that thought—I know I have, though I dismissed me early in the game—and the way I feel about it, it’s worth the attempt. You’re asking me, I know, whether I’ll help you. The answer is ’yes.’ I’ll do it just to screw up the others.” Then, “What do you think of Flora? Would she be of any help?”
“I doubt it very much,” I said. “She’d throw in if things were certain. But, then, what’s certain at this point?”
“Or any.” he added.
“Or any,” I repeated, so he’d think I knew what sort of response I would obtain.
I was afraid to confide in him as to the condition of my memory. I was also afraid to tell him, so I didn’t. There were so very many things I wanted to know, but I had no one to turn to. I thought about it a bit as we drove along.
“Well, when do you want to start?” I asked.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
And there it was, right in my lap, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
“What about now?” I said.
He was silent. He lit a cigarette, I think to buy time.
I did the same.
“Okay,” he finally said. “When’s the last time you’ve been back?”
“It’s been so damn long,” I told him, “that I’m not even sure I remember the way.”
“All right,” he said, “then we’re going to have to go away before we can come back. How much gas have you got?”
“Three-quarters of a tank.”
“Then turn left at the next corner, and we’ll see what happens.”
I did this thing, and as we drove along all the sidewalks began to sparkle.
“Damn!” he said. “It’s been around twenty years since I’ve taken the walk. I’m remembering the right things too soon.”
We kept driving, and I kept wondering what the hell was happening. The sky had grown a bit greenish, then shaded over into pink.
I bit my lip against the asking of questions.
We passed beneath a bridge and when we emerged on the other side the sky was a normal color again, but there were windmills all over the place, big yellow ones.