“And if he does not? Will you help me then?”
“I will do what I can.”
“How will I be able to find you? To let you know?”
I smiled. It had gotten to this point without my half trying. No need to tell her the really important part. Just enough to be possibly useful to me later. . . .
“The cards,” I said, “the family Trumps. They are more than a mere sentimental affectation. They are a means of communication. Get hold of mine, stare at it, concentrate on it, try to keep all other thoughts out of your mind, pretend that it is really me and begin talking to me then. You will find that it really is, and that I am answering you.”
“Those are all the things Grandpa told me not to do when I handle the cards!”
“Of course.”
“How does it work?”
“Another time,” I said. “A thing for a thing. Remember? I have told you now of Amber and of Shadow. Tell me of the visit here by Gerard and Julian.”
“Yes,” she said. “There is not really much to tell, though. One morning, five or six months ago. Grandpa simply stopped what he was doing. He was pruning some trees back in the orchard—he likes to do that himself—and I was helping him. He was up on a ladder, snipping away, and suddenly he just stopped, lowered the clippers, and did not move for several minutes. I thought that he was just resting, and I kept on with my raking. Then I heard him talking—not just muttering—but talking as though he were carrying on a conversation. At first, I thought he was talking to me, and I asked him what he had said. He ignored me, though. Now that I know about the Trumps, I realize that he must have been talking to one of them just then. Probably Julian. Anyway, he climbed down from the ladder quite quickly after that, told me he had to go away for a day or so, and started back toward the manor. He stopped before he had gone very far, though, and returned. That was when he told me that if Julian and Gerard were to visit here that I was to be introduced as his ward, the orphaned daughter of a faithful servant. He rode away a short while later, leading two spare horses. He was wearing his blade.
“He returned in the middle of the night, bringing both of them with him. Gerard was barely conscious. His left leg was broken, and the entire left side of his body was badly bruised. Julian was quite battered also, but—he had no broken bones. They remained with us for the better part of a month, and they healed quickly. Then they borrowed two horses and departed. I have not seen them since.”
“What did they say as to how they had been injured?”
“Only that they had been in an accident They would not discuss it with me.”
“Where? Where did it happen?”
“On the black road. I overheard them talking about it several times.”
“Where is this black road?”
“I do not know.”
“What did they say about it?”
“They cursed it a lot. That was all.”
Looking down, I saw that there was some wine left in the bottle. I stooped and poured two final drinks, passed her one.
“To the reunion,” I said, and smiled.
“. . . The reunion,” she agreed, and we drank.
She began cleaning the area and I assisted her, my earlier sense of urgency upon me once again.
“How long should I wait before I try to reach you?” she asked.
“Three months. Give me three months.”
“Where will you be then?”
“In Amber, I hope.”
“How long will you be staying here?”
“Not very. In fact, I have to take a little trip right now. I should be back tomorrow, though. I will probably only be staying for a few days after that.”
“I wish you would stay longer.”
“I wish that I could. I would like to, now that I have met you.”
She reddened and turned what seemed all of her attention to repacking the basket. I gathered up the fencing gear.