The feeling was good, as was the grass, as was the alcohol which had now seeped through my system and warmed me with a pleasant flame. I cleaned my pipe, put it away, stretched, yawned, and was about to recline.
I detected a distant movement, propped myself on my elbows and watched for it again. I did not have long to wait. A figure was passing slowly along the path, pausing frequently, moving quietly. It vanished beneath the tree where Ganelon and I had been sitting, and did not emerge again for a long while. Then it continued on for several dozen paces, stopped and seemed to be staring in my direction. Then it advanced toward me.
Passing about a clump of shrubbery and emerging from the shadows, her face was suddenly touched by the moonlight. Apparently aware of this, she smiled in my direction, slowing as she came near, stopping when she stood before me.
She said, “I take it your quarters are not to your liking, Lord Corwin.”
“Not at all,” I said. “It is such a beautiful night that it appealed to the outdoorsman in me.”
“Something must have appealed to you last night, also,” she said, “despite the rain,” and she seated herself beside me on my cloak. “Did you sleep indoors or out?”
“I spent it out,” I said. “But I did not sleep. In fact, I have not slept since I saw you last.”
“Where have you been?”
“Down by the seaside, sifting sand.”
“Sounds depressing.”
“It was.”
“I have been doing a lot of thinking, since we walked in Shadow.”
“I would imagine.”
“I have not done too much sleeping either. That was why I heard you come in, heard you talking with Ganelon, knew you were out here somewhere when he came back alone.”
“You were right.”
“I must get to Amber, you know. And walk the Pattern.”
“I know. You will.”
“Soon, Corwin. Soon!”
“You are young, Dara. There is plenty of time.”
“Damn it! I have been waiting all my life—without even knowing about it! Is there no way I can go now?”
“No.”
“Why not? You could take me on a quick journey through shadows, take me to Amber, let me walk the Pattern…”
“If we are not slain immediately, we might be fortunate enough to be given adjoining cells for a time—or racks—before we are executed.”
“Whatever for? You are a Prince of the City. You have a right to do as you please.”
I laughed.
“I am an outlaw, dear. If I return to Amber I will be executed, if I am lucky. Or something much worse if I am not. But seeing as how things turned out last time, I should think they would kill me quickly. This courtesy would doubtless also be extended to my companions.”
“Oberon would not do such a thing.”
“Given sufficient provocation, I believe that he would. But the question does not really arise. Oberon is no more, and my brother Eric sits on the throne and calls himself liege.”
“When did this occur?”
“Several years ago, as time is measured in Amber.”
“Why would he want to kill you?”
“To keep me from killing him, of course.”
“Would you?”
“Yes, and I will. Soon, too, I think.”
She turned to face me then.
“Why?”
“So that I can occupy the throne myself. It is rightly mine, you see. Eric has usurped it. I am just recently escaped from torture and several years‘ imprisonment at his hands. He made the mistake, however, of allowing himself the luxury of keeping me alive so that he could contemplate my wretchedness. He never thought that I would get free and return to challenge him again. Neither did I, for that matter. But since I have been fortunate enough to obtain a second chance, I shall be careful not to make the same mistake he did.”
“But he is your brother.”
“Few are more aware of that fact than he and I, I assure you.”
“How soon do you expect to accomplish—your objectives?”
“As I said the other day, if you can get hold of the Trumps, contact me in about three months. If you cannot, and things come about according to my plans, I will get in touch with you fairly early in my reign. You should have your chance to take the Pattern before another year passes.”