His expressions had changed rapidly while I had spoken-anger, surprise, interest . . .
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Brand could be coming back very soon. In fact, he may already be in Amber. You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”
“No.”
“He must be stopped from walking the Pattern.”
“I do not understand. But I can post a guard outside the chamber of the Pattern.”
“Put the guard inside the chamber. He has strange ways of coming and going now. Terrible things may happen if he walks the Pattern.”
“I will watch it personally then. What is happening?”
“No time now. Here is the next thing: Is Llewella back in Rebma?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Get hold of her with her Trump. She’s got to warn Moire that the Pattern in Rebma has to be guarded also.”
“How serious is this, Corwin?”
“It could be the end of everything,” I said. “I have to go now.”
I broke the contact and headed for the kitchen and the back door, stopping only long enough to thank Alice and say good night. If Brand had got hold of the Jewel and attuned himself to it, I was not certain what he would do, but I had a pretty strong hunch.
I mounted Drum and turned him toward the road. Bill was already backing out of the driveway.
Chapter 11
I cut through fields in many places where Bill had to follow the roads, so I was not all that far behind him. When I drew up, he was talking with Ed, who was gesturing toward the southwest.
As I dismounted, Ed was studying Drum.
“Nice horse, that,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“You’ve been away.”
“Yes.”
We shook hands.
“Good to see you again. I was just telling Bill that I don’t really know how long that artist stayed around. I just figured he would go away when it got dark, and I didn’t pay too much attention. Now, if he was really looking for something of yours and knew about the compost heap, he could still be out there for all I know. I’ll get my shotgun, if you like, and go with you.”
“No,” I said, “thanks. I think I know who it was. The gun will not be necessary. We’ll just walk over and do a little poking around.”
“Okay,” he said. “Let me come along and give you a hand.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“How about your horse, then? What say I give him a drink and something to eat, clean him up a bit?”
“I’m sure he’d be grateful. I know I would.”
“What’s his name?”
“Drum.”
He approached Drum and began making friends with him.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back in the barn for a while. If you need me for anything, just holier.”
“Thanks.”
I got the tools out of Bill’s car and he carried the electric lantern, leading me off to the southwest where Ed had been pointing earlier.
As we crossed the field, I followed the beam of Bill’s light, searching for the heap. When I saw what might be the remains of one, I drew a deep breath, involuntarily. Someone must have been at it, the way the clods were strewn about. The mass would not have been dumped from a truck to fall in such a dispersed fashion.
Still . . . the fact that someone had looked did not mean he had located what he had been seeking.
“What do you think?” Bill said.
“I don’t know,” I told him, lowering the tools to the ground and approaching the largest aggregate in sight. “Give me some light here.”
I scanned what remained of the heap, then fetched a rake and began taking it apart. I broke each clod and spread it upon the ground, running the tines through it. After a time. Bill set the lantern at a good angle and moved to help me.
“I’ve got a funny feeling . . .” he said.
“So do I.”
“. . . that we may be too late.”
We kept pulverizing and spreading, pulverizing and spreading….
I felt the tingle of a familiar presence. I straightened and waited. Contact came moments later.