“Pray, begin,” Jasra told her.
“I would have to speak with you in private on this matter.”
Jasra smiled, out of her love for intrigue, I am certain.
“It is agreeable to me,” she said.
“Mandor, force her to say it now,” I said.
“Wait!” Jasra declared. “I will have this private conversation or you can forget about my help.”
I began wondering just how much help Jasra really represented if she couldn’t call upon the Fount to dispose of Jurt, should that become our biggest problem. True, she knew the Keep. But I didn’t even know for certain how accomplished a sorceress she might be.
On the other hand, I wanted this thing settled now, and one more adept could make the difference.
“Nayda,” I said, “are you planning something that could be damaging to Amber?”
“No,” she replied.
“Mandor, what do ty’iga swear by?” I inquired.
“They don’t,” he said.
“What the hell,” I said. “How much time do you want?”
“Give us ten minutes,” she told me.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said to Mandor.
“Surely,” he agreed, tossing another metal ball toward Nayda. It joined the others in orbit about her, a little above waist level.
I fetched a key from my desk drawer before departing. And as soon as we were in the hall I asked him, “Is there any way Jasra could free her?”
“Not with the additional circuit of confinement I established on the way out,” he replied. “Not many could figure a way past it, and certainly not in ten minutes.”
“She’s just full of secrets, that damned ty’iga,” I said. “Kind of makes me wonder who’s really the prisoner here.”
“She’s only trading some bit of knowledge for Jasra’s cooperation,” he said. “She wants the lady to accompany us if she can’t go herself, since it will mean extra protection for you.”
“Then why can’t we be present?”
“Nothing that I learned from her sheds any tight on this,” he said.
“Well, since I have a few minutes, there is a small errand I want to run. Would you keep an eye on things here and take charge if she calls us in before I get back?”
He smiled.
“If one of your relatives strolls by, should I introduce myself as a lord of Chaos?”
“I thought you were also a lord of deception.”
“Of course,” he said, and he clapped his hands and vanished.
“I’ll hurry,” I said.
“Cheerio,” came his voice, from somewhere.
I hurried off up the hall. It was a little pilgrimage, I suppose-one that I had not made in a long while. On the brink of an enterprise such as this, it seemed somehow appropriate.
When I reached the door, I stood outside it for a moment, my eyes closed, visualizing the interior as last I had seen it. It was my father’s apartment. I had wandered through it on many occasions, trying to judge from the furnishings, the layout, his bookshelves, and his curious collections something more than I already knew about the man. There was always some little thing that caught my attention, that answered a question or raised a new one-an inscription on the flyleaf of a book or a note in a margin, a silver hairbrush bearing the wrong set of initials, a daguerreotype of an attractive brunette signed “To Carl, Love, Carolyn,” a snapshot of my father shaking hands with General MacArthur…
I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
I did not move for several seconds, however, as a light glowed inside the place. For more long moments I listened, but there were no sounds from within. Slowly then, I entered. A number of candles burned upon the dresser set against the far wall. There was no one in sight.
“Hello?” I called.out. “It’s me. Merlin.” There came no answer.
I drew the door closed behind me and moved forward. A bud vase stood upon the dresser amid the candles. It contained a single rose, and it appeared to be silver in color. I drew nearer. Yes, it was real, not artificial. And it was silver. In what shadow did such flowers grow?
I picked up one of the candles by its, holder and moved away with it, shielding its flame with my hand. I crossed to my left and entered the next room. Immediately, on opening the door, I saw that there was no need to have brought the candle. More of them were burning here.