So, “I suppose this has a lot to do with Luke,” I said to Vialle.
She was silent for a moment, then replied, “It was Dalt that he seemed concerned about.”
I shrugged mentally. It seemed that it would come down to the same thing in Random’s mind, since he would see Dalt as the military force Luke would turn to to recover the throne. So I said, “Oh,” and went on eating.
There were no new facts to be had beyond this, and nothing to clarify Random’s thinking any further, so we lapsed into small talk while I considered my position once again. It still came down to a feeling that urgent action was necessary and uncertainty as to what form it should take. My course was determined in an unexpected fashion sometime during dessert.
A courtier named Randel—tall, thin, dark, and generally smiling—came into the room. I knew something was up because he was not smiling and he was moving faster than usual. He swept us with his gaze, fixed upon Vialle, advanced quickly and cleared his throat.
“M’lady Majesty . . . ?” he began.
Vialle turned her head slightly in his direction:
“Yes, Randel?” she said. “What is it?”
“The delegation from Begma has just arrived,” he answered, “and I find myself without instructions as to the nature of their welcome and any special arrangements that would be suitable.”
“Oh dear,” Vialle said, laying aside her fork. “They weren’t due until the day after tomorrow, when Random will be back. He’s the one they’ll be wanting to complain to. What have you done with them?”
“I seated them in the Yellow Room,” he replied, “and told them I would go and announce their arrival.”
She nodded.
“How many of them are there?”
“The prime minister, Orkuz,” he said, “his secretary, Nayda—who is also his daughter—and another daughter, Coral. There are also four servants—two men and two women.”
“Go and inform the household staff, and be sure that appropriate quarters are made ready for them,” she directed, “and alert the kitchen. They may not have had lunch.”
“Very good, Your Highness,” he said, beginning to back away.
“ . . . Then report to me in the Yellow Room, to let me know it’s been done,” she continued, “and I’ll give you additional instructions at that time.”
“Consider it done,” he replied, and he hurried off.
“Merlin, Llewella,” Vialle said, beginning to rise, “come help me entertain them while arrangements are being made.”
I gulped my last bite of dessert and got to my feet. I did not really feel like talking to a diplomat and his party, but I was handy and it was one of life’s little duties.
“Uh. . . . What are they here for, anyway?” I asked.
“Some sort of protest over what we’ve been doing in Kashfa,” she replied. “They’ve never been friendly with Kashfa, but I’m not sure now whether they’re here to protest Kashfa’s possible admission to the Golden Circle or whether they’re upset about our interfering in Kashfa’s domestic affairs. It could be they’re afraid they’ll lose business with such a close neighbor suddenly enjoying the same preferred trade status they have. Or it may be they had different plans for Kashfa’s throne and we just foreclosed them. Maybe both. Whatever. . . . We can’t tell them anything we don’t know.”
“I just wanted to know what subjects to avoid,” I said.
“All of the above,” she answered.
“I was wondering the same thing myself,” Llewella said. “I was also wondering, though, whether they might have any useful information on Dalt. Their intelligence service must keep a close eye on doings in and about Kashfa.”
“Don’t pursue that topic,” Vialle said, moving toward the door. “If they let something slip or want to give something away, fine. Bring it home. But don’t show them you’d like to know.”
Vialle took my arm and I guided her out, heading toward the Yellow Room. Llewella produced a small mirror from somewhere and inspected her features. Obviously pleased, she put it away, then remarked, “Lucky you showed up, Merlin. An extra smiling face is always useful at times like this.”
“Why don’t I feel lucky?” I said.
We made our way to the room where the prime minister and his daughters waited. Their servants had already retired to the kitchen for refreshments. The official party was still hungry, which says something about protocol, especially since it seemed to take a long while before some trays of provender could be attractively assembled. Orkuz was of medium stature and stocky, his black hair tastefully streaked, the lines on his broad face seeming to indicate that he did a lot more frowning than smiling—a practice in which he indulged most of the while that afternoon. Nayda’s was a more pleasingly sculpted version of his face, and though she showed the same tendency toward corpulence, it was held firmly in check at an attractive level of roundedness. Also, she smiled a lot and she had pretty teeth. Coral, on the other hand, was taller than either her father or sister, slender, her hair a reddish brown. When she smiled it seemed less official. Also, there was something vaguely familiar about her. I wondered whether I had met her at some boring reception years before. If I had, though, I felt I might have remembered.
After we had been introduced and wine had been poured, Orkuz made a brief comment to Vialle about “recent distressing news” concerning Kashfa. Llewella and I quickly moved to her side for moral support, but she simply said that such matters would have to be dealt with fully upon Random’s return, and that for the moment she wished merely to see to their comfort. He was completely agreeable to this, even to the point of smiling. I had the impression he just wanted the purpose of his visit on the record immediately. Llewella quickly turned the conversation to the matter of his journey, and he graciously allowed the subject to be changed. Politicians are wonderfully programmed.
I learned later that the Begman ambassador wasn’t even aware of his arrival, which would seem to indicate that Orkuz had come so quickly he had preceded any notification to their embassy. And he hadn’t even bothered dropping in there, but had come straight to the palace and had a message sent over. I learned this a little later, when he asked to have the message delivered. Feeling somewhat supernumerary to Llewella’s and Vialle’s graceful cascades of neutral talk, I dropped back a pace to plan my escape. I was not at all interested in whatever game was being set up.
Coral backed off also and sighed. Then she glanced at me and smiled, surveyed the room quickly and came closer.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Amber,” she said then.
“Is it the way you imagined it?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. So far. Of course, I haven’t seen that much of it yet. . . . ”
I nodded, and we withdrew a little farther from the others.
“Have I met you somewhere before?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I haven’t traveled that much, and I don’t believe you’ve been out our way. Have you?”
“No, though I’ve grown curious about it recently.”
“I do know something of your background, though,” she went on, “just from general gossip. I know you’re from the Courts of Chaos; and I know you went to school on that Shadow world you Amberites seem to visit so frequently. I’ve often wondered what it was like.”
I took the bait and I began telling her about school and my job, about a few places I’d visited and things I’d enjoyed doing. We made our way to a sofa across the room as I spoke, and we got more comfortable. Orkuz, Nayda, Llewella, and Vialle didn’t seem to miss us, and if I had to be here I found talking with Coral more enjoyable than listening to them. Not to monopolize things, though, I asked her about herself.
She began telling me of a girlhood spent in and around Begma, of her fondness for the outdoors—of horses and of boating on the many lakes and rivers in that region—of books she had read, and of relatively innocent dabblings in magic. A member of the household staff came in just as she was getting around
to a description of some interesting rites performed by members of the local farming community to insure the fertility of the crops, and she approached Vialle and told her something. Several more staff members were in view outside the doorway. Vialle then said something to Orkuz and Nayda, who nodded and moved toward the entrance. Llewella departed the group and came our way.
“Coral,” she said, “your suite is ready. One of the staff will show you where it is. Perhaps you’d like to freshen up or rest after your journey.”
We got to our feet.
“I’m not really tired,” Coral said, looking at me rather than Llewella, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
What the hell. I suddenly realized I had been enjoying her company, so, “If you’d care to change into something simpler,” I said, “I’ll be glad to show you a bit of the town. Or the palace.”
It became a full smile worth seeing.
“I’d much rather do that,” she said.
“Then I’ll meet you back here in about half an hour,” I told her.
I saw her out, and accompanied her and the others as far as the foot of the big stairway. In that I still had on my Levi’s and purple shirt, I wondered whether I should change into something more in keeping with local fashion. The hell with it, I decided then. We were just going to be knocking around. I’d simply add my sword belt and weapons, a cloak, and my best boots. Might trim my beard, though, since I had a little time. And maybe a quick manicure. . . .
“Uh, Merlin. . . . ”
It was Llewella, her hand on my elbow, steering me toward an alcove. I allowed myself to be steered.
Then, “Yes?” I said. “What’s up?”
“Hm. . . . ” she said. “Kind of cute, isn’t she?”
“I suppose so,” I replied.
“You got the hots for her?”
“Jeez, Llewella! I don’t know. I just met the lady.”
“ . . . And made a date with her.”
“Come on! I deserve a break today. I enjoyed talking with her. I’d like to show her around a bit. I think we’d have a good time. What’s wrong wish that?”
“Nothing,” she answered, “so long as you keep things in perspective.”
“What perspective did you have in mind?”
“It strikes me as faintly curious,” she said, “that Orkuz brought along his two good-looking daughters.”
“Nayda is his secretary,” I said, “and Coral’s wanted to see the place for some time.”
“Uh-huh, and it would be a very good thing for Begma if one of them just happened to latch onto a member of the family.”
“Llewella, you’re too damned suspicious,” I said.
“It comes of having lived a long time.”
“Well, I hope to live a long time myself, and I hope it doesn’t make me look for an ulterior motive in every human act.”
She smiled. “Of course. Forget I said anything,” she told me, knowing I wouldn’t. “Have a good time.” I growled politely and headed for my room.
Chapter 4
And so, in the midst of all manner of threats, intrigues, menaces, and mysteries, I decided to call a holiday and stroll about town with a pretty lady. Of all possible choices I might have made, it was certainly the most attractive. Whoever the enemy, whatever the power I faced, the ball was now in its court. I had no desire to hunt for Jurt, duel with Mask, or follow Luke about until he came down and told me whether or not he still wanted the family’s scalps. Dalt was not my problem, Vinta was me, Ghostwheel was silent, and the matter of my father’s Pattern could await my leisure. The sun was shining and the breeze was gentle, though these could change quickly at this season. It was a shame to waste what could well be the year’s last good day on anything less than enjoyment. I hummed as I repaired myself, and I headed downstairs early for our meeting.
Coral had moved more quickly than I’d guessed, however, and was waiting for me. I approved of her sensible dark green breeches, heavy coppery shirt, and warm brown cloak. Her boots looked fine for walking, and she had on a dark hat that covered most of her hair. There were gloves and a dagger at her belt.
“All ready,” she said when she saw me.
“Great,” I replied, smiling, and I led her out into the hallway.
She started to turn in the direction of the main doorway, but I led her off to the right, then later to the left.
“Less conspicuous to use one of the side doors,” I said.
“You people are certainly secretive,” she said.
“Habit,” I replied. “The less that outsiders know of your business the better.”
“What outsiders? What are you afraid of?”
“Just now? A great number of things. But I don’t really want to spend a nice day like this making lists.”
She shook her head in what I took to be a mixture of awe and disgust.
“It’s true what they say then?” she asked. “That your affairs are so complex you all carry scorecards?”
“Haven’t had time for any affairs recently,” I told her, “or even a simple score.” Then, “Sorry,” I added, when I saw her blush. “Life has been a bit complicated for me lately.”
“Oh,” she said, glancing at me, clearly asking for elaboration.
“Some other time,” I said, forcing a laugh, flipping my cloak, and greeting a guard.
She nodded and, diplomatically, changed the subject:
“I guess I came at the wrong time of year to see your famous gardens.”
“Yeah, they’ve pretty much had it for the season,” I said, “except for Benedict’s Japanese garden which is kind of far out back. Perhaps we can go and have a cup of tea there one day, but I thought we’d go into town now.”
“Sounds fine,” she agreed.
I told the postern guard to tell Henden, Amber’s steward, that we were heading into town and weren’t sure when we’d be back. He said that he would as soon as he got off duty, which would be pretty soon. My experience at Bloody Bill’s had taught me the lesson of leaving such messages—not that I thought we were in any danger; or that Llewella’s knowing wouldn’t be sufficient.
Leaves crunched beneath our feet as we took one of the walks toward a side gate. With only a few strands of cirrus high overhead, the sun shone brightly. To the west, a flock of dark birds flapped its way toward the ocean, south.
“It’s already snowed back home,” she told me. “You’re lucky.”
“There’s a warm current that gives us a break,” I said, remembering something Gerard had once told me. “It moderates the climate considerably; compared to other places at equal latitude.”
“You travel a lot?” she asked me.
“I’ve been traveling more than I care to,” I said, “recently. I’d like to sit down and go to seed for about a year.”
“Business or pleasure?” she asked me, as a guard let us out the gate and I quickly surveyed the environs for lurkers.
“Not pleasure,” I answered as I took her elbow for a moment and steered her toward the way I had chosen. When we reached civilized precincts, we followed the Main Concourse for a time. I pointed out a few landmarks and notable residences, including the Begman Embassy. She showed no inclination to visit the latter, though, saying she’d have to see her countrymen officially before she left, anyway. She did stop in a shop we found later, however, to buy a couple of blouses, having the bill sent to the embassy and the garments to the palace.
“My father promised me some shopping,” she explained. “And I know he’ll forget. When he hears about this, he’ll know that I didn’t.”
We explored the streets of the various trades and stopped for a drink at a sidewalk cafe, watching pedestrians and horsemen pass. I had just turned toward her to relate an anecdote concerning one of the riders when I felt the beginning of a Trump contact. I waited for several seconds as the feeling grew stronger, but no identity took shape beyond the reaching. I felt Coral’s hand upon my arm.
“What’s the matter?” she ask
ed.
I reached out with my mind, attempting to assist in the contact, but the other seemed to retreat as I did so. It was not the same as that lurking scrutiny when Mask had regarded me at Flora’s place in San Francisco, though. Could it just be someone I knew trying to reach me and having trouble focusing? Injured, perhaps? Or—
“Luke?” I said. “Is that you?”
But there was no response and the feeling began to fade. Finally, it was gone.
“Are you all right?” Coral asked.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” I said. “I guess. Someone tried to reach me and then decided otherwise.”
“Reach? Oh, you mean those Trumps you use?”
“Yes.”
“But you said ‘Luke’ . .” she mused. “None of your family is named—”
“You might know him as Rinaldo, Prince of Kashfa,” I said.
She chuckled.
“Rinny? Sure I know him. He didn’t like us to call him Rinny, though. . . . ”
“You really do know him? Personally, I mean?”
“Yes,” she replied, “though it’s been a long time. Kashfa’s pretty close to Begma. Sometimes we were on good terms, sometimes not so good. You know how it is. Politics. When I was little there were long spells when we were pretty friendly. There were lots of state visits, both ways. We kids would often get dumped together.”
“What was he like in those days?”
“Oh, a big, gawky, red-haired boy. Liked to show off a lot—how strong he was, how fast he was. I remember how mad he got at me once because I beat him in a footrace.”
“You beat Luke in a race?”
“Yes. I’m a very good runner.”
“You must be.”
“Anyway, he took Nayda and me sailing a few times, and on some long hikes. Where is he now, anyway?”
“Drinking with a Cheshire cat.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it. I’ve been worried about him since the coup.”
Mm. . . . I thought quickly about how to edit this so as not to tell the daughter of the Begman prime minister any state secrets, such as Luke’s relationship to the House of Amber. . . . So, “I’ve known him for quite some time,” I began. “He recently incurred the wrath of a sorcerer who drugged him and saw him banished to this peculiar bar. . . . ”
The Chronicles of Amber Page 132
