“It seems to,” Random replied.
“. . . Brought about by the shedding of Martin’s blood?”
“I think so”
Benedict raised the Trump Random had passed him during his narration. At that time, Benedict had made no comment.
“Yes,” he said now, “this is Martin. He came to me after he departed Rebma. He stayed with me a long while”
“Why did he go to you?” Random asked.
Benedict smiled faintly.
“He had to go somewhere, you know,” he said. “He was sick of his position in Rebma, ambivalent toward Amber, young, free, and just come into his power through the Pattern. He wanted to get away, see new things, travel in Shadow-as we all did. I had taken him to Avalon once when he was a small boy, to let him walk on dry land of a summer, to teach him to ride a horse, to have him see a crop harvested. When he was suddenly in a position to go anywhere he would in an instant, his choices were still restricted to the few places of which he had knowledge. True, he might have dreamed up a place in that instant and gone there-creating it, as it were. But he was also aware that he still had many things to learn, to ensure his safety in Shadow. So he elected to come to me, to ask me to teach him. And I did. He spent the better part of a year at my place. I taught him to fight, taught him of the ways of the Trumps and of Shadow, instructed him in those things an Amberite must know if he is to survive.”
“Why did you do all these things?” Random asked.
“Someone had to. It was me that he came to, so it was mine to do,” Benedict replied. “It was not as if I were not very fond of the boy, though,” he added. Random nodded.
“You say that he was with you for almost a year. What became of him after that?”
“That wanderlust you know as well as I. Once he had obtained some confidence in his abilities, he wanted to exercise them. In the course of instructing him, I had taken him on journeys in Shadow myself, had introduced him to people of my acquaintance at various places. But there came a time when he wanted to make his own way. One day then, he bade me good-by and fared forth.”
“Have you seen him since?” Random asked.
“Yes. He returned periodically, staying with me for a time, to tell me of his adventures, his discoveries. It was always clear that it was just a visit. After a time, he would get restless and depart again.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Several years ago, Avalon time, under the usual circumstances. He showed up one morning, stayed for perhaps two weeks, told me of the things he had seen and done, talked of the many things he wanted to do. Later, he set off once more.”
“And you never heard from him again?”
“On the contrary. There were messages left with mutual friends when he would pass their way. Occasionally, he would even contact me via my Trump-“
“He had a set of the Trumps?” I broke in.
“Yes, I made him a gift of one of my extra decks.”
“Did you have a Trump for him?” He shook his head.
“I was not even aware that such a Trump existed, until I saw this one,” he said, raising the card, glancing at it, and passing it back to Random. “I haven’t the art to prepare one. Random, have you tried reaching him with this Trump?”
“Yes, any number of times since we came across it. Just a few minutes ago, as a matter of fact. Nothing.”
“Of course that proves nothing. If everything occurred as you guessed and he did survive it, he may have resolved to block any future attempts at contact. He does know how to do that.”
“Did it occur as I guessed? Do you know more about it?”
“I have an idea,” Benedict said. “You see, he did show up injured at a friend’s place-off in Shadow some years ago. It was a body wound, caused by the thrust of a blade. They said he came to them in very bad shape and did not go into details as to what had occurred. He remained for a few days-until he was able to get around again-and departed before he was really fully recovered. That was the last they heard of him. The last that I did, also.”