“What was that for?”
“A number of things,” she said. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Random was crouched on the hearth, poking at the fire. Deirdre turned to him and said, “Don’t throw on more wood just for us. Flora and I are going too.”
“Okay.” He set the poker aside and rose. “Sleep well,” he called after them.
Deirdre gave me a sleepy smile and Flora a nervous one. I added my good nights and watched them leave.
“Learn anything new and useful?” Random asked.
I shrugged.
“Did you?”
“Opinions, conjectures. No new facts,” he said. “We were trying to decide who might be next on the list.”
“And…?”
“Benedict thinks it’s a toss-up. You or him. Providing you are not behind it all, of course. He also thinks your buddy Ganelon ought to watch his step.”
“Ganelon… Yes, that’s a thought — and it should have been mine. I think he is right about the toss-up, too. It may even be slightly weighted against him, since they know I’m alert because of the attempted frameup.”
“I would say that all of us are now aware that Benedict is alert himself. He managed to mention his opinion to everyone. I believe that he would welcome an attempt.”
I chuckled.
“That balances the coin again. I guess it is a toss-up.”
“He said that, too. Naturally, he knew I would tell you.”
“Naturally, I wish he would start talking to me again. Well… not much I can do about it now,” I said. “The hell with everything. I’m going to bed.”
He nodded.
“Look under it first.”
We left the room, headed up the hall.
“Corwin, I wish you’d had the foresight to bring some coffee back with you, along with the guns,” he said. “I could use a cup.”
“Doesn’t it keep you awake?”
“No. I like a couple of cups in the evening.”
“I miss it mornings. We’ll have to import some when this mess is all settled.”
“Small comfort, but a good idea. What got into Fi, anyhow?”
“She thinks Julian is our man.”
“She may be right.”
“What about Caine?”
“Supposing it was not a single individual,” he said as we mounted the stair. “Say it was two, like Julian and Caine. They finally had a falling out, Caine lost, Julian disposed of him and used the death, to weaken your position as well. Former friends make the worst enemies.”
“It’s no use,” I said. “I get dizzy when I start sorting the possibilities. We are either going to have to wait for something more to happen, or make something happen. Probably the latter. But not tonight —”
“Hey! Wait up!”
“Sorry.” I paused at the landing. “Don’t know what got into me. Finishing spurt, I guess.”
“Nervous energy,” he said, coming abreast of me once more. We continued on up, and I made an effort to match his pace, fighting down a desire to hurry.
“Well, sleep well,” he said finally.
“Good night. Random.”
He continued on up the stair and I headed off along the corridor toward my quarters. I was feeling jittery by then, which must be why I dropped my key.
I reached and plucked it out of the air before it had fallen very far. Simultaneously, I was struck by the impression that its motion was somewhat slower than it should have been. I inserted it in the lock and turned it.
The room was dark, but I decided against lighting a candle or an oil lamp. I had gotten used to the dark a long time ago. I locked and bolted the door. My eyes were already half adjusted to the gloom, from the dim hallway. I turned. There was some starlight leaking in about the drapes, too. I crossed the room, unfastening my collar.
He was waiting in my bed chamber, to the left of the entrance. He was perfectly positioned and he did nothing to give himself away. I walked right into it. He had the ideal station, he held the dagger ready, he had the element of total surprise going for him. By rights I should have died — not in my bed, but just there at its foot.
I caught a glimpse of the movement, realized the presence and its significance as I stepped over the threshold.
I knew that it was too late to avoid the thrust even as I raised my arm to try to block it. But one peculiarity struck me before the blade itself did: my assailant seemed to be moving too slowly. Quick, with all the tension of his wait behind it, that is how it should have been. I should never have known it was occurring until after the act, if then. I should not have had time to turn partway and swing my arm as far as I did. A ruddy haze filled my vision and I felt my forearm strike the side of the outflung arm at about the same moment as the steel touched my belly and bit. Within the redness there seemed a faint tracing of that cosmic version of the Pattern I had followed earlier in the day. As I doubled and fell, unable to think but still for a moment conscious, it came clearer, came nearer, the design. I wanted to flee, but horse my body stumbled. I was thrown.
Chapter 8
Out of every life a little blood must spill. Unfortunately, it was my turn again, and it felt like more than a little. I was lying, doubled up, on my right side, both arms clutching at my middle. I was wet, and every now and then something trickled along the creases of my belly. Front, lower left, just above the beltline, I felt like a casually opened envelope. These were my first sensations as consciousness came around again. And my first thought was, “What is he waiting for?” Obviously, the coup de grace had been withheld. Why?
I opened my eyes. They had taken advantage of whatever time had elapsed to adjust themselves to the darkness. I turned my head. I did not see anyone else in the room with me. But something peculiar had occurred and I could not quite place it. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back to the mattress once more. Something was wrong, yet at the same time right…
The mattress… Yes, I was lying on my bed. I doubted my ability to have gotten there unassisted. But it would be absurd to knife me and them help me to bed.
My bed… It was my bed, yet it was not.
I squeezed my eyes tight. I gritted my teeth. I did not understand. I knew that my thinking could not be normal there on the fringes of shock, my blood pooling in my guts and then leaking out. I tried to force myself to think clearly. It was not easy.
My bed. Before you are fully aware of anything else, you are aware whether you are awakening in your own bed. And I was, but —
I fought down an enormous impulse to sneeze, because I felt it would tear me apart. I compressed my nostrils and breathed in short gasps through my mouth. The taste, smell and feel of dust was all about me.
The nasal assault subsided and I opened my eyes. I knew then where I was. I did not understand the why and how of it, but I had come once more to a place I had never expected to see again. I lowered my right hand, used it to raise myself.
It was my bedroom in my house. The old one. The place which had been mine back when I was Carl Corey. I had been returned to Shadow, to that world heavy with dust. The bed had not been made up since the last time I had slept in it, over half a decade before. I knew the state of the house fully, having looked in on it only a few weeks earlier.
I pushed myself further, managed to slide my feet out over the edge of the bed and down. Then I doubled up again and sat there. It was bad.
While I felt temporarily safe from further assault, I knew that I required more than safety just then. I had to have help, and I was in no position to help myself. I was not even certain how much longer I might remain conscious. So I had to get down and get out. The phone would be dead, the nearest house was not too close by. I would have to get down to the road, at least. I reflected grimly that one of my reasons for locating where I had was that it was not a well-traveled road. I enjoy my solitude, at least some of the time.