“I was in no position to get out and see what had been hit,” I said. “I heard the shots. I lost control. I had assumed that it was a tire, but I never knew for sure. The only reason I raised the question was because I was curious as to how you knew it was a tire.”
“I already told you that Eric told me about it.”
“It was the way that you said it that bothered me. You made it sound as if you already knew all the details before he contacted you.”
She shook her head.
“Then pardon my syntax,” she said. “That sometimes happens when you look at things after the fact. I am going to have to deny what you are implying. I had nothing to do with it and I had no prior knowledge that it had occurred.”
“Since Eric is no longer around to confirm or deny anything, we will simply have to let it go,” I said, “for now,” and I said it to make her look even harder to her defense, to direct her attention away from any possible slip, either in word or expression, from which she might infer the small flaw which still existed in my memory.
“Did you later become aware of the identity of the person with the gun?” I asked.
“Never,” she said. “Most likely some hired thug. I don't know.”
“Have you any idea how long I was unconscious before someone found me, took me to a hospital?”
She shook her head again.
Something was bothering me and I could not quite put my finger on it.
“Did Eric say what time I had been taken into the hospital?”
“No.”
“When I was with you, why did you try walking back to Amber rather than using Eric's Trump?”
“I couldn't raise him.”
“You could have called someone else to bring you through,” I said. “Flora, I think you are lying to me.”
It was really only a test, to observe her reaction. Why not?
“About what?” she asked. “I couldn't raise anyone else. They were all otherwise occupied. Is that what you mean?”
She studied me.
I raised my arm and pointed at her and the lightning flashed at my back, just outside the window. I felt a tingle, a mild jolt. The thunderclap was also impressive. “You sin by omission,” I tried.
She covered her face with her hands and began to weep.
“I don't know what you mean!” she said. “I answered all your questions! What do you want? I don't know where you were going or who shot at you or what time it occurred! I just know the facts I've given you, damn it!”
She was either sincere or unbreakable by these means, I decided. Whichever, I was wasting my time and could get nothing more this way. Also, I had better switch us away from the accident before she began thinking too much about its importance to me. If there was something there that I was missing, I wanted to find it first.
“Come with me,” I said.
“Where are we going?”
“I have something I want you to identify. I will tell you why after you see it.”
She rose and followed me. I took her up the hall to see the body before I gave her the story on Caine. She regarded the corpse quite dispassionately. She nodded.
“Yes,” she said, and, “Even if I did not know it I would be glad to say that I did, for you.”
I grunted a noncommittal. Family loyalty always touches me, somewhere. I could not tell whether she believed what I had said about Caine. But things sort of • canal-to equal things sort of being equal to each other. it didn't much seem to matter. I did not tell her anything about Brand and she did not seem to possess any new information concerning him. Her only other comment when everything I'd had to say was said, was, “You wear the jewel well. What about the headpiece?”
“It is too soon to talk of such things,” I told her.
“Whatever my support may be worth...”
“I know,” I said. “I know.”
My tomb is a quiet place. It stands alone in a rocky declivity, shielded on three sides against the elements, surrounded by transported soil wherein a pair of scrubby trees, miscellaneous shrubs, weeds, and great ropes of mountain ivy are rooted, about two miles down, in back of the crest of Kolvir. It is a long, low building with two benches in front, and the ivy has contrived to cover it to a great extent, mercifully masking most of a bombastic statement graven on its face beneath my name. It is, understandably, vacant most of the time.
That evening, however, Ganelon and I repaired thither, accompanied by a good supply of wine and some loaves and cold cuts.
“You weren't joking!” he said, having dismounted, crossed over, and parted the ivy, able to read by the moon's light the words that were rendered there.
“Of course not,” I said, climbing down and taking charge of the horses. “It's mine all right.”
Tethering our mounts to a nearby shrub, I unslung our bags of provisions and carried them to the nearest bench. Ganelon joined me as I opened the first bottle and poured us a dark, deep pair.
“I still don't understand,” he said, accepting his.
“What's there to understand? I'm dead and buried there,” I said. “It's my cenotaph, is what it is-the monument that gets set up when the body has not been recovered. I only just learned about mine recently. It was raised several centuries ago, when it was decided I wasn't coming back.”
“Kind of spooky,” he said. “What's inside then?”
“Nothing. Though they did thoughtfully provide a niche and a casket, just in case my remains put in an appearance. You cover both bets that way.”
Ganelon made himself a sandwich.
“Whose idea was it?” he asked.
“Random thinks it was Brand's or Eric's. No one remembers for sure. They all seemed to feel it was a good idea at the time.”
He chuckled, an evil noise that perfectly suited his creased, scarred, and red-bearded self.
“What's to become of it now?”
I shrugged.
“I suppose some of them think it's a shame to waste it this way and would like to see me fill it. In the meantime, though, it's a good place to come and get drunk. I hadn't really paid my respects yet. “
I put together a pair of sandwiches and ate them both. This was the first real breather I had had since my return, and perhaps the last for some time to come. It was impossible to say. But I had not really had a chance to speak with Ganelon at any length during the past week, and he was one of the few persons I trusted. I wanted to tell him everything. I had to. I had to talk with someone who was not a part of it in the same way as the rest of us. So I did.
The moon moved a considerable distance and the shards of broken glass multiplied within my crypt.
“So how did the others take it?” he asked me.
“Predictably,” I answered. “I could tell that Julian did not believe a word of it even though he said that he did. He knows how I feel about him, and he is in no position to challenge me. I don't think Benedict believes me either, but he is a lot harder to read. He is biding his time, and I hope giving me the benefit of the doubt while he is about it. As for Gerard, I have the feeling that this was the final weight, and whatever trust he had left for me has just collapsed. Still, he will be returning to Amber early tomorrow, to accompany me to the grove to recover Caine's body. No sense in turning it into a safari, but I did want another family member present. Deirdre now-she seemed happy about it. Didn't believe a word. I'm sure. But no matter. She has always been on my side, and she has never liked Caine. I'd say she is glad that I seem to be consolidating my position. I can't really tell whether Llewella believed me or not. She doesn't much give a damn what the rest of us do to one another, so far as I can see. As to Fiona, she simply seemed amused at the whole business. But then, she has always had this detached, superior way of regarding things. You can never be certain what represents her real thinking.”