“What about Benedict?” I asked softly.
“Don’t . . .” she said, and she turned away. There was a silence. Then, “I do not believe that we will ever meet again,” she said, and her horse carried her off to my left, in the direction of the black road.
A cynic might have decided that she had simply chosen to toss in her lot with what she now saw as the winning side, as the Courts of Chaos would likely survive. I simply did not know. I could think only of what I had seen when she had gestured. The cowling had slipped away and I had gotten a glimpse of what she had become. It had not been a human face, there within the shadows. But I turned my head and watched until she was gone. With Deirdre, Brand and Dad gone, and now a parting with Dara on these terms, the world was much emptier-whatever was left of it.
I lay back and sighed. Why not just remain here when the others departed, wait for the storm to wash over me, and sleep . . . dissolve? I thought of Hugi. Had I digested his flight from life as well as his flesh? I was so tired that it seemed the easiest course. . . .
“Here, Corwin.”
I had been dozing again, though only for a moment. Fiona was beside me once more, with rations and a flask. Someone was with her.
“I did not wish to interrupt your audience,” she said. “So I waited.”
“You heard?” I asked.
“No, but I can guess,” she said, “since she is gone. Here.”
I swallowed some wine, turned my attention to the meat, the bread. Despite my state of mind, they tasted good to me.
“We will be moving soon,” Fiona said, casting a glance at the raging stormfront. “Can you ride?”
“I think so,” I said.
I took another drink of the wine.
“But too much has happened, Fi,” I told her. “I have gone numb emotionally. I broke out of a sanitarium on a shadow world. I have tricked people and I’ve killed people. I have calculated and I have fought. I won back my memory and I have been trying to straighten out my life. I have found my family, and found that I love it. I have been reconciled with Dad. I have fought for the kingdom. I have tried everything I know to hold things together. Now it appears that it has all come to nothing, and I have not enough spirit left to mourn further. I have gone numb. Forgive me.”
She kissed me.
“We are not yet beaten. You will be yourself again,” she said.
I shook my head.
“It is like the last chapter of Alice” I said. “If I shout, ‘You are only a pack of cards!’ I feel we will all fly into the air, a hand of painted pasteboards. I am not going with you. Leave me here. I am only the Joker, anyway.”
“Right now, I am stronger than you are,” she said. “You are coming.”
“It is not fair,” I said softly.
“Finish eating,” she said. “There is still some time.”
As I did, she went on, “Your son Merlin is waiting to see you. I would like to call him up here now.”
“Prisoner?”
“Not exactly. He was not a combatant. He just arrived a little while ago, asking to see you.”
I nodded and she went away. I abandoned my rations and took another swig of wine. I had just become nervous. What do you say to a grown son you only recently learned existed? I wondered about his feelings toward me. I wondered whether he knew of Dara’s decision. How should I act with him?
I watched him approach from a place where my relatives were clustered, far off to my left. I had wondered why they had left me by myself this way. The more visitors I received the more apparent it became. I wondered whether they were holding up the withdrawal because of me. The storm’s moist winds were growing stronger. He was staring at me as he advanced, no special expression on that face so much like my own. I wondered how Dara felt now that her prophecy of the destruction seemed to have been fulfilled. I wondered how her relationship with the boy actually stood. I wondered . . . many things.