All right. The fact that Benedict had chosen to come in on Gerard's Trump rather than mine was his way of expressing his feelings toward me. Was it also an indication of an alliance to keep me in check? It was at least calculated to make me wonder. Could it have been Benedict who had put Gerard up to our morning's exercise? Probably.
At that moment Julian rose to his feet, crossed the room, gave Benedict a word and a handclasp.
This activity attracted Llewella. She turned, closing her book and laying it aside. Smiling then, she advanced and greeted Benedict, nodded to Julian, said something to Gerard. The impromptu conference warmed, grew animated. All right again, and again.
Four and three. And two in the middle...
I waited, staring at the group across the room. We were all present, and I could have asked them for attention and proceeded with what I had in mind. However...
It was too tempting. All of us could feel the tension, I knew. It was as if a pair of magnetic poles had suddenly been activated within the room. I was curious to see how all the filings would fall.
Flora gave me one quick glance. I doubted that she had changed her mind overnight-unless, of course, there had been some new development. No, I felt confident that I had anticipated the next move.
Nor was I incorrect. I overheard her mentioning thirst and a glass of wine. She turned partway and made a move in my direction, as if expecting Fiona to accompany her. She hesitated for a moment when this did not occur, suddenly became the focus of the entire company's attention, realized this fact, made a quick decision, smiled, and moved in my direction.
“Corwin,” she said, “I believe I would like a glass of wine.”
Without turning my head or removing my gaze from the tableau before me, I called back over my shoulder, “Random, pour Flora a glass of wine, would you?”
“But of course,” he replied, and I heard the necessary sounds.
Flora nodded, unsmiled, and passed beyond me to the right.
Four and four, leaving dear Fiona burning brightly in the middle of the room. Totally self-conscious and enjoying it, she immediately turned toward the oval mirror with the dark, intricately carved frame, hanging in the space between the two nearest tiers of shelves. She proceeded to adjust a stray strand of hair in the vicinity of her left temple.
Her movement produced a flash of green and silver among the red and gold geometries of the carpet, near to the place where her left foot had rested.
I had simultaneous desires to curse and to smile. The arrant bitch was playing games with us again. Always remarkable, though... Nothing had changed. Neither cursing nor smiling, I moved forward, as she had known I would.
But Julian too approached, and a trifle more quickly than I. He had been a bit nearer, may have spotted it a fraction of an instant sooner.
He scooped it up and dangled it gently.
“Your bracelet, sister,” he said pleasantly. “It seems to have forsaken your wrist, foolish thing. Here-allow me.”
She extended her hand, giving him one of those lowered-eyelash smiles while he unfastened her chain of emeralds. Completing the business, he folded her hand within both of his own and began to turn back toward his corner, from whence the others were casting sidelong glances while attempting to seem locally occupied.
“I believe you would be amused by a witticism we are about to share,” he began.
Her smile grew even more delightful as she disengaged her hand.
“Thank you, Julian,” she replied. “I am certain that when I hear it I will laugh. Last, as usual, I fear.” She turned and took my arm. “I find that I feel a greater desire,” she said, “for a glass of wine.”
So I took her back with me and saw her refreshed. Five and four.
Julian, who dislikes showing strong feelings, reached a decision a few moments later and followed us over. He poured himself a glass, sipped from it, studied me for ten or fifteen seconds, then said, “I believe we are all present now. When do you plan to proceed with whatever you have in mind?”
“I see no reason for further delay,” I said, “now that everyone has had his turn.” I raised my voice then and directed it across the room. “The time has come. Let us get comfortable.”
The others drifted over. Chairs were dragged up and settled into. More wine was poured. A minute later we had an audience.
“Thank you,” I said when the final stirrings had subsided.
“I have a number of things I would like to say, and some of them might even get said. The course of it all will depend on what goes before, and we will get into that right now. Random, tell them what you told me yesterday.”
“All right.”
I withdrew to the seat behind the desk and Random moved to occupy the edge of it. I leaned back and listened again to the story of his communication with Brand and his attempt to rescue him. It was a condensed version, bereft of the speculations which had not really strayed from my consciousness since Random had put them there. And despite their omission, a tacit awareness of the implications was occurring within all the others. I knew that. It was the main reason I had wanted Random to speak first. Had I simply come out with an attempt to make a case for my suspicions, I would almost certainly have been assumed to be engaged in the time-honored practice of directing attention away from myself-an act to be followed immediately by the separate, sharp, metallic clicks of minds snapping shut against me. This way, despite any thoughts that Random would say whatever I wanted him to say, they would hear him out, wondering the while. They would toy with the ideas, attempting to foresee the point of my having called the assembly in the first place. They would allow the time that would permit the premises to take root contingent upon later corroboration. And they would be wondering whether we could produce the evidence. I was wondering that same thing myself.
While I waited and wondered I watched the others, a fruitless yet inevitable exercise. Simple curiosity, more than suspicion even, required that I search these faces for reactions, clues, indications-the faces that I knew better than any others, to the limits of my understanding such things. And of course they told me nothing. Perhaps it is true that you really only look at a person the first time you see him, and after that you do a quick bit of mental shorthand each time you recognize him. My brain is lazy enough to give that its likelihood, using its abstracting powers and a presumption of regularity to avoid work whenever possible. This time I forced myself to see, though, and it still did not help. Julian maintained his slightly bored, slightly amused mask. Gerard appeared alternately surprised, angry, and wistful. Benedict just looked bleak and suspicious. Llewella seemed as sad and inscrutable as ever. Deirdre looked distracted. Flora acquiescent, and Fiona was studying everyone else, myself included, assembling her own catalog of reactions.
The only thing that I could tell, after some time, was that Random was making an impression. While no one betrayed himself, I saw the boredom vanish, the old suspicion abate, the new suspicion come to life. Interest rose among my kin. Fascination, almost. Then everyone had questions. At first a few, then a barrage.
“Wait,” I finally interrupted. “Let him finish. The whole thing. Some of these will answer themselves. Get the others afterward.”
There were nods and growls, and Random proceeded through to the real end. That is, he carried it on to our fight with the beastmen at Flora's, indicating that they were of the same ilk as the one who had slain Caine. Flora endorsed this part.
Then, when the questions came, I watched them carefully. So long as they dealt with the matter of Random's story, they were all to the good. But I wanted to cut things short of speculation as to the possibility of one of us being behind it all. As soon as that came out, talk of me and the smell of red herrings would also drift in. This could lead to ugly words and the emergence of a mood I was not anxious to engender. Better to go for the proof first, save on later recriminations, corner the culprit right now if possible, and consolidate my position on the spot.