“Corwin,” Ganelon said, “I’ve been doing some thinking…”
I sighed.
“Yes?”
“. . . about Random’s son. The way your crowd heals, I suppose it is possible that he might have survived and still be about.”
“I would like to think so.”
“Do not be too hasty.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gather he had very little contact with Amber and the rest of the family, growing up in Rebma the way that he did.”
“That is the way I understand it, too.”
“In fact, outside of Benedict-and Llewella, back in Rebma-the only other one he apparently had contact with would have been the one who stabbed him-Bleys, Brand, or Fiona. It has occurred to me that he probably has a pretty distorted view of the family.”
“Distorted,” I said, “but maybe not unwarranted, if I see what you are getting at.”
“I think you do. It seems conceivable that he is not only afraid of the family, but may have it in for the lot of you.”
“It is possible,” I said.
“Do you think he could have thrown in with the enemy?”
I shook my head.
“Not if he knows they are the tools of the crowd that tried to kill him.”
“But are they? I wonder . . . ? You say Brand got scared and tried to back out of whatever arrangement they had with the black road gang. If they are that strong, I wonder whether Fiona and Bleys might not have become their tools? If this were the case, I could see Martin angling for something which gave him power over them.”
“Too elaborate a structure of guesses,” I said.
“The enemy seems to know a lot about you.”
“True, but they had a couple traitors to give them lessons.”
“Could they have given them everything you say Dara knew?”
“That is a good point,” I said, “but it is hard to say.”
Except for the business about the Tecys, which occurred to me immediately. I decided to keep that to myself for the moment though, to find out what he was leading up to, rather than going off on a tangent. So, “Martin was hardly in a position to tell them much about Amber,” I said.
Ganelon was silent for a moment. Then, “Have you had a chance to check on the business I asked you about that night at your tomb?” he said.
“What business?”
“Whether the Trumps could be bugged,” he said. “Now that we know Martin had a deck. . .”
It was my turn to be silent while a small family of moments crossed my path, single file, from the left, sticking their tongues out at me.
“No,” I said then. “I haven’t had a chance.”
We proceeded on for quite a distance before he said, “Corwin, the night you brought Brand back.. . ?”
“Yes?”
“You say you accounted for everyone later, in trying to figure out who it was that stabbed you, and that any of them would have been hard put to pull the stunt in the time involved.”
“Oh,” I said, “and oh.”
He nodded.
“Now you have another relative to think about. He may lack the family finesse only because he is young and unpracticed.”
Sitting there in my mind, I gestured back at the silent parade of moments that crossed between Amber and then.
Chapter 4
She asked who it was when I knocked and I told her.
“Just a moment”
I heard her footsteps and then the door swung in. Vialle is only a little over five feet tall and quite slim. Brunette, fine-featured, very soft-spoken. She was wearing red. Her sightless eyes looked through me, reminding me of darkness past, of pain.
“Random,” I said, “asked me to tell you that he would be delayed a little longer, but that there was nothing to worry about.”
“Please come in,” she said, stepping aside and drawing the door the rest of the way open.
I did. I did not want to, but I did. I had not intended to take Random’s request literally-that I tell her what had happened and where he had gone. I had meant simply to tell her what I had already said, nothing more. It was not until we had ridden our separate ways that I realized exactly what Random’s request had amounted to: He had just asked me to go tell his wife, to whom I had never spoken more than half a dozen words, that he had taken off to go looking for his illegitimate son-the lad whose mother, Morganthe, had committed suicide, a thing for which Random had been punished by being forced to marry Vialle. The fact that the marriage had somehow worked beautifully was something which still amazed me. I had no desire to dispense a load of awkward tidings, and as I moved into the room I sought alternatives.