As Julian addressed her shadowy presence, I turned my mind to the future. I was going to have to do something about Mask and Jurt soon, and it looked now as if I’d be doing it without Luke. Did I really want to follow his advice and try to talk Jasra into an alliance against them? Would the benefits really be worth the risk? And if I didn’t, how would I manage the thing? Maybe I should make my way back to that strange bar and see about renting the Jabberwock. Or the Vorpal Sword. Or both. Maybe—
I heard my name mentioned, and I drifted back to the present moment, present problems. Julian was explaining something to Vialle, but I knew there wasn’t all that much to explain. So I got to my feet, stretched, and summoned the Logrus Sight.
I saw her ghostly form clearly when I directed my vision toward the area before Julian: She was in that same stiff chair where I had last seen her. I wondered whether she had remained there the entire while or had just returned. I hoped she’d had a chance to go back and eat that dessert I hadn’t had a shot at.
Julian glanced at me, then, “If you’re ready to go, she’s ready to take you through,” he said.
I crossed over and stood beside him, dropping the Logrus vision as I did so. I had decided it was not a good idea to bring the forces of the Logrus and the Pattern into too great a proximity. I reached out and touched the card, and Vialle’s image sprang into full focus. A moment, and it was no longer an image.
“Anytime,” she said, extending a hand. I reached out and took hold of it gently.
“So long, Julian,” I said, as I stepped forward.
He did not reply. Or if he did, I didn’t catch it.
“I did not mean for things to go this way,” she told me immediately, not releasing my hand.
“There was no way of foreseeing what happened,” I said.
“Luke knew,” she replied. “It makes sense now, doesn’t it? Some of those little remarks he made? He planned the challenge all along.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“He’s gambling on something. I wish I knew what.”
“I can’t help you on that,” I answered. “He didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“But you will be the one with whom he will get in touch, eventually,” she said. “I want to know immediately when you hear from him.”
“All right,” I agreed.
She released my hand.
“It would seem there is nothing more to say, for the moment.”
“Well,” I began, “there is another matter I think you ought to know about.”
“Oh?”
“It concerns Coral’s not being present at dinner this evening.”
“Go on,” she said.
“You are aware that we took a long walk about town today?”
“I am,” she said.
“We wound up below,” I continued, “in the chamber of the Pattern. She’d expressed a desire to see it.”
“Many visitors do. It is pretty much a matter of judgment whether to take them. Often they lose interest, though, when they learn about the stairway.”
“I did tell her about it,” I said, “but it didn’t discourage her. When she got there, she set foot upon the Pattern—”
“No!” she cried. “You should have watched her more closely! All that other trouble with Begma . . . and now this! Where is her body?”
“Good question,” I responded. “I don’t know. But she was alive the last time I saw her. You see, she claimed Oberon was her father, and then she proceeded to walk the Pattern. When she’d finished, she had it transport her somewhere. Now, her sister—who is aware that we went off together—is concerned. She was pestering me through dinner as to where Coral might be.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her that I’d left her sister enjoying some of the beauties of the palace and that she might be a bit late to dinner. As things wore on, though, she seemed to grow more concerned and made me promise to search for her tonight if she didn’t turn up. I didn’t want to talk about what had really happened because I didn’t want to go into the business of Coral’s parentage.”
“Understandable.” she replied. “Oh, my.”
I waited, but she said nothing more. I continued to wait.
Finally, “I was not aware of the late king’s affair in Begma,” she said, “so it is difficult to assess the impact of this revelation. Did Coral give you any indication as to how long she intended to stay away? And for that matter, did you provide her with any means of return?”
“I gave her my Trump,” I said, “but she hasn’t been in touch. I got the impression she didn’t intend to be away for too long, though.”
“This could be serious,” Vialle decided, “for reasons other than the obvious. How does Nayda strike you?”
“She seemed quite sensible,” I said. “Also, I believe she rather likes me.”
Vialle brooded a moment, then said, “If word of this gets to Orkuz, he could well get the impression that we are holding her hostage against his proper performance in any negotiations which might arise out of the situation in Kashfa.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“He will. People tend to think of such matters when dealing with us. So what we need to do is buy some time and try to turn her up before this begins looking suspicious.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Most likely, he will send to her quarters soon—if he hasn’t already done so—to discover why she was not present at dinner. If he can be satisfied now, you will have the entire night in which to try to locate her.”
“How?”
“You’re the magician. You figure it out. In the meantime, you say that Nayda is sympathetic?”
“Very much so.”
“Good. It seems to me that the best course of action then would be to attempt to enlist her aid. I trust you to be tactful and do this in the least distressing manner possible, of course—”
“Naturally—” I began.
“—because of her recent illness,” she went on. “All we need to do now is give the second daughter a heart attack.”
“Illness?” I inquired. “She hadn’t mentioned anything about that.”
“I’d imagine the memory is still distressing. She was apparently quite close to death until very recently, then rallied suddenly and insisted on accompanying her father on this mission. He’s the one who told me about it.”
“She seemed fine at dinner,” I said lamely.
“Well, try to keep her that way. I want you to go to her immediately, tell her what happened as diplomatically as possible, and try to get her to cover for her sister while you search for her. There is, of course, the risk that she will not believe you and that she will go directly to Orkuz. Perhaps you might employ a spell to prevent this. But we have no other choice that I can see. Tell me whether I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said.
“Then I suggest you be about it . . . and report back to me immediately if there are any problems, or any progress, no matter what the hour.”
“I’m on my way,” I said.
I departed the room in a hurry but shortly came to a halt. It occurred to me that while I knew the general area of the palace in which the Begman party was quartered, I did not really know where Nayda’s rooms were located. I did not want to go back and ask Vialle because it would make me look stupid for not having found out during dinner.
It took me the better part of ten minutes to turn up a member of the palace staff able to give me directions—along with a smirk—and then to follow them at a jog until I stood before Nayda’s door.
I ran my hand through my hair, brushed off my trousers and jacket, wiped my boots on the backs of my pants legs, took a deep breath, smiled, exhaled, and knocked.
The door opened a few moments later. It was Nayda. She returned my smile and stepped aside.
“Come in,” she said.
“I was expecting the maid,” I told her as I entered. “You surpri
sed me.”
“Since I was expecting you, I sent her off to bed early,” she replied.
She had changed into an outfit that looked like a gray sweat suit with a black sash. She also had on a pair of black slippers, and she had removed most of her makeup. Her hair was now drawn back severely and tied with a black ribbon. She gestured toward a couch, but I did not move to seat myself.
I clasped her shoulder lightly and stared into her eyes. She moved nearer.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Find out,” she said softly.
I could not even permit myself a sigh. Duty called. I slipped my arms around her, drew her to me, and kissed her. I held the pose for several seconds, then drew away, smiled again, and said, “You feel fine to me. Listen, there are some things I did not tell you—”
“Shall we sit down?” she said, taking my hand and leading me toward the couch.
Vialle had told me to be diplomatic, so I followed her.
Immediately, she continued our embrace and began to add refinements. Danm! And me constrained to rush her out to cover for Coral. If she would, I’d be happy to cover her afterward. Or any other interesting position Begmans might go in for. I’d better ask quickly, though, I decided. A couple of minutes more and it would be very undiplomatic to begin talking about her sister. Today was just a bad day when it came to timing.
“Before we get too involved here,” I said, “I’ve got to ask a favor of you.”
“Ask me anything,” she said.
“I think there’s going to be a delay in turning up your sister,” I explained, “and I’d hate to worry your father. Do you know whether he’s sent to her rooms yet, or been by them, to check on her?”
“I don’t believe so. He strolled off with Gerard and Mr. Roth after dinner. I don’t think he’s returned to his apartment yet.”
“Could you possibly find a way of giving him the impression that she hasn’t strayed? Buy me some time to find out where she’s off to?”
She looked amused.
“And those things you haven’t told me . . . ?”
“I’ll give you the whole story if you’ll do this for me.”
She traced my jawline with her index finger.
“All right,” she said then. “We have a deal. Don’t go away.”
She rose, crossed the room, and passed out into the hall, leaving the door a few inches ajar. Why hadn’t I had a nice normal affair since Julia? The last woman I’d made love to had actually been under the control of that strange body-shifting entity. Now . . . Now there was the faintest of shadows across the couch, as I realized that I’d rather be holding Coral than her sister. That was ridiculous. I’d only known her for half a day. . . .
There had simply been too much activity since my return. I was getting punchy. That had to be it.
When she returned she seated herself on the couch again, but this time with a couple of feet separating us. She seemed cheerful enough, though she made no move to resume our earlier occupation.
“It’s taken care of,” she said. “He will be misled, if he asks.”
“Thanks,” I told her.
“Now it’s your turn,” she stated. “Tell me things.”
“All right,” I began, and I launched into the story of Coral and the Pattern.
“No,” she interrupted. “Start at the beginning, would you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Give me your whole day, from the time you left the palace together until you parted.”
“That’s silly,” I protested.
“Humor me,” she said. “You owe me one, remember?”
“Very well,” I agreed, and I started again. I was able to skip over the bit about blasting the table in the cafe, but when I glossed over the business in the sea caves by saying that we’d looked around in them and found them pretty, she interrupted me.
“Stop,” she said. “You’re leaving something out. What occurred in the caves?”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“That is a secret I do not care to share just now.” she explained. “Suffice it to say I have a means of spot-checking your veracity.”
“It’s not relevant,” I said. “It will just confuse the issue. That’s why I omitted it.”
“You said you’d give me the whole afternoon.”
“All right, lady,” I agreed, and I did.
She bit her lip while I told her about Jurt and the zombies, and she licked idly at the beads of blood that appeared thereafter.
“What are you going to do about him?” she asked suddenly.
“That’s my problem,” I said then. “I promised you the afternoon, not my memoirs and survival plans.”
“It’s just that. . . . Remember, I offered to try to help you?”
“What do you mean? Do you think you can nail Jurt for me? I’ve got news for you: He’s practically a candidate for godhood at the moment.”
“What do you mean by ‘godhood’?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“It would take most of the night to tell you this story properly, and we don’t have the time, not if I’m going to start looking for Coral soon. Just let me finish with the business about the Pattern, will you?”
“Go ahead.”
I did, and she showed no surprise whatsoever at the matter of her sister’s paternity. I was going to question her as to her lack of reaction. Then I said, the hell with it. She’s done what I wanted, and I did what I promised. She hasn’t had a heart attack. And now it’s time to go.
“That’s it,” I said, and I added, “Thanks.”
I began to rise, and she moved quickly and was hugging me again.
I returned her embrace for a moment, then said, “I’d really better be going. Coral could be in danger.”
“The hell with her,” she said. “Stay with me. We have more important things to talk about.”
I was surprised by her callousness, but I tried not to show it.
“I’ve a duty to her,” I said, “and I’ve got to see to it now.”
“All right,” she said, sighing. “I’d better come along and give you a hand.”
“How?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised,” she told me, and she was on her feet and smiling a twisted smile.
I nodded, feeling that she was probably right.
10
We hiked back along the hallway to my apartment. When I opened the door and summoned the lights, Nayda did a fast survey of the first room. She froze when she saw my coat-rack.
“Queen Jasra!” she said.
“Yep. She had a disagreement with a sorcerer named Mask,” I explained. “Guess who won?”
Nayda raised her left hand and moved it in a slow pattern—behind Jasra’s neck and down her back, across her chest, then downward again. I did not recognize any of the movements she was performing.
“Don’t tell me that you’re a sorceress, too,” I said. “It seems that everyone I run into these days has had some training in the Art.”
“I am not a sorceress,” she answered, “and I’ve had no such training. I have only one trick and it is not sorcery, but I use it for everything.”
“And what is that trick?” I asked.
She ignored the question, then said, “My, she’s certainly tightly bound. The key lies somewhere in the region of her solar plexus. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I understand the spell fully.”
“Why is she here?”
“Partly because I promised her son Rinaldo I’d rescue her from Mask, and partly as an assurance against his good behavior.”
I pushed the door shut and secured it. When I turned back, she was facing me.
“Have you seen him recently?” she said in a conversational tone.
“Yes. Why?”
“Oh, no special reason.”
“I thought we were trying to help each other,” I said.
“I thought we were looking for my siste
r.”
“It can wait another minute if you know something special about Rinaldo.”
“I was just curious where he might be right now.”
I turned away and moved to the chest where I keep art supplies. I removed the necessary items and took them to my drawing board. While I was about it, I said, “I don’t know where he is.”
I set up the piece of pasteboard, seated myself and closed my eyes, summoning a mental image of Coral, preliminary to beginning her sketch. Again, I half wondered whether the picture in my mind, along with the appropriate magical endorsement, would be sufficient for contact. But now was not the time to mess around being experimental. I opened my eyes and began to draw. I used the techniques I’d learned in the Courts, which are different yet similar to those employed in Amber. I was qualified to execute them in either fashion, but I’m faster with the style I learned first.
Nayda came over and stood near, watching, not asking whether I minded. As it was, I did not.
“When did you see him last?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Luke.”
“This evening,” I answered.
“Where?”
“He was here earlier.”
“Is he here now?”
“No.”
“Where did you last see him?”
“In the forest of Arden. Why?”
“It seems a strange place to part.”
I was working on Coral’s eyebrows.
“We parted under strange circumstances,” I said.
A little more work about the eyes, a bit on the her. . . .
“Strange? In what way?” she asked.
More color to the cheeks. . . .
“Never mind,” I told her.
“All right,” she said. “It’s probably not that important.”
I decided against rising to that bait, because I was suddenly getting something. As had occasionally happened in the past, my concentration on the Trump as I put the final touches to it was sufficiently intense to reach through and. . . .
“Coral!” I said, as the features moved, perspectives shifted.
“Merlin . . . ?” she answered. “I . . . I’m in trouble.”
Oddly, there was no background whatever. Just blackness. I felt Nayda’s hand upon my shoulder.
The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10 Page 143
