“Agreed. So let us be off to bed.”
“You go ahead. I am not quite ready yet.”
“Take your own advice and get some rest,” he said, turning back toward the manor. “Don't sit up and worry.”
“I won't.”
“Good night, then.”
“See you in the morning.”
I watched him return along the path. He was right, of course, but I was not yet ready to surrender my consciousness. I went over my plans again, to be certain there was nothing I was overlooking, finished my drink and set the glass on the bench. I rose then and strolled, trailing wisps of tobacco smoke about me. There was a bit of moonlight from over my shoulder and dawn was still a few hours' distant, as I reckoned it. I was firm in my resolve to spend the rest of the night out of doors, and I thought to find me a good place to sack out.
Of course, I eventually wandered down the path and into the grove of saplings. A little poking around showed me that there had been some recent digging, but I was in no mood to exhume bodies by moonlight and was perfectly willing to take Ganelon's word as to what he had found there. I am not even certain why I went there. Morbid streak, I guess. I did decide against sleeping in the vicinity, though.
I made my way into the northwest corner of the garden, finding an area that was out of line of sight from the manor. There were high hedgerows and the grass was long, soft, and sweet-smelling. I spead my cloak, sat down upon it, and pulled off my boots. I put my feet down into the cool grass and sighed.
Not too much longer, I decided. Shadows to diamonds to guns to Amber. I was on my way. A year ago I had been rotting in a cell, crossing and recrossing the line between sanity and madness so many times that I had all but rubbed it out. Now I was free, strong, sighted, and had a plan. Now I was a threat seeking fulfillment once again, a deadlier threat than I had been previously. This time I did not have my fortunes tied up with the plans of another. Now I was responsible for my own success or failure.
The feeling was good, as was the grass, as was the alcohol which had now seeped through my system and warmed me with a pleasant flame. I cleaned my pipe, put it away, stretched, yawned, and was about to recline.
I detected a distant movement, propped myself on my elbows and watched for it again. I did not have long to wait. A figure was passing slowly along the path, pausing frequently, moving quietly. It vanished beneath the tree where Ganelon and I had been sitting, and did not emerge again for a long while. Then it continued on for several dozen paces, stopped and seemed to be staring in my direction. Then it advanced toward me.
Passing about a clump of shrubbery and emerging from the shadows, her face was suddenly touched by the moonlight. Apparently aware of this, she smiled in my direction, slowing as she came near, stopping when she stood before me.
She said, “I take it your quarters are not to your liking, Lord Corwin.”
“Not at all,” I said. “It is such a beautiful night that it appealed to the outdoorsman in me.”
“Something must have appealed to you last night, also,” she said, “despite the rain,” and she seated herself beside me on my cloak. “Did you sleep indoors or out?”
“I spent it out,” I said. “But I did not sleep. In fact, I have not slept since I saw you last.”
“Where have you been?”
“Down by the seaside, sifting sand.”
“Sounds depressing.”
“It was.”
“I have been doing a lot of thinking, since we walked in Shadow.”
“I would imagine.”
“I have not done too much sleeping either. That was why I heard you come in, heard you talking with Ganelon, knew you were out here somewhere when he came back alone.”
“You were right.”
“I must get to Amber, you know. And walk the Pattern.”
“I know. You will.”
“Soon, Corwin. Soon!”
“You are young, Dara. There is plenty of time.”
“Damn it! I have been waiting all my life-without even knowing about it! Is there no way I can go now?”
“No.”
“Why not? You could take me on a quick journey through shadows, take me to Amber, let me walk the Pattern...”
“If we are not slain immediately, we might be fortunate enough to be given adjoining cells for a time-or racks-before we are executed.”
“Whatever for? You are a Prince of the City. You have a right to do as you please.”
I laughed.
“I am an outlaw, dear. If I return to Amber I will be executed, if I am lucky. Or something much worse if I am not. But seeing as how things turned out last time, I should think they would kill me quickly. This courtesy would doubtless also be extended to my companions.”
“Oberon would not do such a thing.”
“Given sufficient provocation, I believe that he would. But the question does not really arise. Oberon is no more, and my brother Eric sits on the throne and calls himself liege.”
“When did this occur?”
“Several years ago, as time is measured in Amber.”
“Why would he want to kill you?”
“To keep me from killing him, of course.”
“Would you?”
“Yes, and I will. Soon, too, I think.”
She turned to face me then.
“Why?”
“So that I can occupy the throne myself. It is rightly mine, you see. Eric has usurped it. I am just recently escaped from torture and several years' imprisonment at his hands. He made the mistake, however, of allowing himself the luxury of keeping me alive so that he could contemplate my wretchedness. He never thought that I would get free and return to challenge him again. Neither did I, for that matter. But since I have been fortunate enongh to obtain a second chance, I shall be careful not to make the same mistake he did.”
“But he is your brother.”
“Few are more aware of that fact than he and I, I assure you.”
“How soon do you expect to accomplish-your objectives?”
“As I said the other day, if you can get hold of the Trumps, contact me in about three months. If you cannot, and things come about according to my plans, I will get in touch with you fairly early in my reign. You should have your chance to take the Pattern before another year passes.”
“And if you fail?”
“Then you will have a longer wait ahead of you. Until Eric has assured the permanency of his own reign, and until Benedict has acknowledged him king. You see, Benedict is not willing to do this. He has remained away from Amber for a long while, and for all Eric knows, he is no longer among the living. Should he put in an appearance now, he is going to have to take a position either for or against Eric. Should he come out for him, then the continuance of Eric's reign will be assured-and Benedict does not want to be responsible for that. Should he come out against him, there will be strife-and he does not want to be responsible for that either. He has no desire for the crown himself. Only by remaining out of the picture entirely can he assure the measure of tranquility that does prevail. Were he to appear and refuse to take either position, he could possibly get away with it, but it would be tantamount to denying Eric's kingship and would still lead to trouble. Were he to appear with you, he would be surrendering his will, for Eric would put pressure on him through you.”
“Then if you lose I might never get to Amber!”
“I am only describing the situation as I see it. There are doubtless many factors of which I am unaware. I have been out of circulation for a long while.”
“You must win!” she said. Then, suddenly, “Would Grandpa support you?”
“I doubt it. But the situation would be quite different. I am aware of his existence, and of yours. I will not ask his support. So long as he does not oppose me, I will be satisfied. And if I am quick, efficient, and successful, he will not oppose me. He will not like my having found out about you, but when he sees that I mean you no harm all will be well on that count.”