“No,” she said. “I can give you only two pointers, for whatever they may be worth. The first is that I do not recall Dad’s ever wearing it for long periods of time. The second, I pieced together from a number of things that he said, beginning with a comment to the effect that ‘when people turn into statues you are either in the wrong place or in trouble.’ I pressed him quite a bit on that, over a long period of time, and I eventually got the impression that the first sign of having worn it too long is some sort of distortion of your time sense. Apparently it begins speeding up the metabolism — everything — with a net effect that the world seems to be slowing down around you. This must take quite a toll on a person. That is everything that I know about it, and I admit that a large part of the last is guesswork. How long have you been wearing it?”
“A while now,” I said, taking my mental pulse and glancing about to see whether things seemed to be slowing down any.
I could not really tell, though of course I did not feel in the best of shape. I had assumed it was totally Gerard’s doing, though. I was not about to yank it off, however, just because another family member had suggested it, even if it was clever Fiona in one of her friendlier moods. Perversity, cussedness… No, independence. That was it. That and purely formal distrust. I had only put it on for the evening a few hours before, anyway. I’d wait.
“Well, you have made your point in wearing it,” she was saying. “I simply wanted to advise you against prolonged exposure until you know more about it.
“Thanks, Fi. I’ll have it off soon, and I appreciate your telling me. By the way, whatever became of Dworkin?”
She tapped her temple.
“His mind finally went, poor man. I like to think that Dad had him put away in some restful retreat in Shadow.”
“I see what you mean,” I said. “Yes, let us think that. Poor fellow.”
Julian rose to his feet, concluding a conversation with Llewella. He stretched, nodded to her, and strolled over.
“Corwin, have you thought of any more questions for us?” he said.
“None that I’d care to ask just now.”
He smiled.
“Anything more that you want to tell us?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Any more experiments, demonstrations, charades?”
“No.”
“Good. Then I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Night.”
He bowed to Fiona, waved to Benedict and Random, nodded to Flora and Deirdre as he passed them on the way to the door. He paused on the threshold, turned back and said, “Now you can all talk about me,” and went on out.
“All right,” Fiona said. “Let’s. I think he’s the one.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I’ll go down the list, subjective, intuitive, and biased as it is. Benedict, in my opinion, is above suspicion. If he wanted the throne, he’d have it by now, by direct, military methods. With all the time he has had, he could have managed an attack that would have succeeded, even against Dad. He is that good, and we all know it. You, on the other hand, have made a number of blunders which you would not have made had you been in full possession of your faculties. That is why I believe your story, amnesia and all. No one gets himself blinded as a piece of strategy. Gerard is well on the way to establishing his own innocence. I almost think he is up there with Brand now more for that reason than from any desire to protect Brand. At any rate, we will know for sure before long — or else have some new suspicions. Random has simply been watched too closely these past years to have had the opportunity to engineer everything that has been happening. So he is out. Of us more delicate sorts. Flora hasn’t the brains, Deirdre lacks the guts, Llewella hasn’t the motivations, as she is happy elsewhere but never here, and I, of course, am innocent of all but malice. That leaves Julian. Is he capable? Yes. Does he want the throne? Of course. Has he had time and opportunity? Again, yes. He is your man.”
“Would he have killed Caine?” I asked. “They were buddies.”
She curled her lip.
“Julian has no friends,” she said. “That icy personality of his is thawed only by thoughts of himself. Oh, in recent years he seemed closer to Caine than to anyone else. But even that… even that could have been a part of it. Shamming a friendship long enough to make it seem believable, so that he would not be suspect at this time. I can believe Julian capable of that because I cannot believe him capable of strong emotional attachments.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know,” I said. “His friendship with Caine is something that occurred during my absence, so everything I know concerning it is secondhand. Still, if Julian were looking for friendship in the form of another personality close to his own, I can see it. They were a lot alike. I tend to think it was real, because I don’t think anybody is capable of deceiving someone about his friendship for years. Unless the other party is awfully stupid, which is something Caine was not. And — well, you say your reasoning was subjective, intuitive, and biased. So is mine, on something like this. I just don’t like to think anybody is such a miserable wretch that he would use his only friend that way. That’s why I think there is something wrong with your list.”
She sighed.
“For someone who has been around for as long as you have, Corwin, you say some silly things. Were you changed by your long stay in that funny little place? Years ago you would have seen the obvious, as I do.”
“Perhaps I have changed, for such things no longer seem obvious. Or could it be that you have changed, Fiona? A trifle more cynical than the little girl I once knew. It might not have been all that obvious to you, years ago.”
She smiled softly.
“Never tell a woman she has changed, Corwin. Except for the better. You used to know that, too. Could it be that you are really only one of Corwin’s shadows, sent back to suffer and intimidate here on his behalf? Is the real Corwin somewhere else, laughing at us all?”
“I am here, and I am not laughing,” I said. She laughed.
“Yes, that is it!” she said. “I have just decided that you are not yourself! Announcement, everybody!” she cried, springing to her feet. “I have just noticed that this is not really Corwin! It has to be one of his shadows! It has just announced a belief in friendship, dignity, nobility of spirit, and those other things which figure prominently in popular romances! I am obviously onto something!”
The others stared at her. She laughed again, then sat down abruptly.
I heard Flora mutter “drunk” and return to her conversation with Deirdre.
Random said, “Let’s hear it for shadows,” and turned back to a discussion with Benedict and Llewella.
“See?” she said.
“What?”
“You’re insubstantial,” she said, patting my knee. “And so am I, now that I think about it. It has been a bad day, Corwin.”
“I know. I feel like hell, too. I thought I had such a fine idea for getting Brand back. Not only that, it worked. A lot of good it did him.”
“Don’t overlook those bits of virtue you’ve acquired,” she said. “You’re not to blame for the way it turned out.”
“Thanks.”
“I believe that Julian might have had the right idea,” she said. “I don’t feel like staying awake any longer.”
I rose with her, walked her to the door.
“I’m all right,” she said. “Really.”
“Sure?”
She nodded sharply.
“See you in the morning then.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Now you can talk about me.”
She winked and went out.
I turned back, saw that Benedict and Llewella were approaching.
“Turning in?” I asked.
Benedict nodded.
“Might as well,” Llewella said, and she kissed me on the cheek.