“I’ll always drink to that.”
And we did.
Then she refilled mine and studied me.
“It had to be Eric, Bleys, or you,” she said. “You’re the only ones with any guts or brains. But you’d removed yourself from the picture for so long that I’d counted you out of the running.”
“It just goes to show you never can tell.”
I sipped my drink and hoped she’d shut up for just a minute. It seemed to me she was being a bit too obvious in trying to play on every side available. There was something bothering me, and I wanted to think about it.
How old was I?
That question, I knew, was a part of the answer to the terrible sense of distance and removal that I felt from all the persons depicted on the playing cards. I was older than I appeared to be. (Thirtyish, I’d seemed when I looked at me in the mirror—but now I knew that it was because the shadows would lie for me.) I was far, far older, and it had been a very long time since I had seen my brothers and my sisters, all together and friendly, existing side by side as they did on the cards, with no tension, no friction among them.
We heard the sound of the bell, and Carmella moving to answer the door.
“That would be brother Random,” I said, knowing I was right. “He’s under my protection.”
Her eyes widened, then she smiled, as though she appreciated some clever thing I had done.
I hadn’t, of course. but I was glad to let her think so.
It made me feel safer.
4
I felt safe for perhaps all of three minutes. I beat Carmella to the door and flung It open.
He staggered in and immediately pushed the door shut behind himself and shot the bolt. There were lines under those light eyes and he wasn’t wearing a bright doublet and long hose. He needed a shave and he had on a brown wool suit. He carried a gabardine overcoat over one arm and wore dark suede shoes. But he was Random, all right—the Random I had seen on the card—only the laughing mouth looked tired and there was dirt beneath his fingernails.
“Corwin!” he said, and embraced me.
I squeezed his shoulder. “You look as if you could use a drink,” I said.
“Yes. Yes. Yes….” he agreed, and I steered him toward the library.
About three minutes later. after he had seated himself, with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he said to me, “They’re after me. They’ll be here soon.”
Flora let out a little shriek, which we both ignored.
“Who?” I asked.
“People out of the shadows,” he said. “I don’t know who they are, or who sent them. There are four or five though, maybe even six. They were on the plane with me. I took a jet. They occurred around Denver. I moved the plane several times to subtract them, but it didn’t work—and I didn’t want to get too far off the track. I shook them in Manhattan, but it’s only a matter of time. I think they’ll be here soon.”
“And you’ve no idea at all who sent them?”
He stalled for an instant.
“Well, I guess we’d he safe in limiting it to the family. Maybe Bleys, maybe Julian, maybe Caine. Maybe even you, to get me here. Hope not, though. You didn’t, did you?”
“‘Fraid not,” I said. “How tough do they look?”
He shrugged. “If it were only two or three, I’d have tried to pull an ambush. But not with that whole crowd.”
He was a little guy, maybe five-six in height, weighing perhaps one thirty-five. But he sounded as if he meant it when he said he’d take on two or three bruisers, single-handed. I wondered suddenly about my own physical strength, being his brother. I felt comfortably strong. I knew I’d be willing to take on any one man in a fair fight without any special fears. How strong was I?
Suddenly, I knew I would have a chance to find out.
There came a knocking at the front door.