“Things are never what they seem, Corwin,” he began. “Your friend today is your enemy tomorrow and—”
“Cut it out!” I said. “Cards-on-the-table time is here. I do appreciate what Brandon Corey did for me, and it was my idea to try the trick we used to locate you and bring you back.”
He nodded.
“I fancy there were good reasons for a recrudescence of fraternal sentiment after all this time.”
“I might suppose you had additional reasons for helping me, also.”
He smiled again, raised his right hand and lowered it.
“Then we are either even or in each other's debt, depending upon how one looks at these things. As it would seem we now have need of each other, it would be well to regard ourselves in the most flattering light.”
“You are stalling, Brand. You are trying to psych me. You are also spoiling my day's effort at idealism. You got me out of bed to tell me something. Be my guest.”
“Same old Corwin,” he said, chuckling. Then he looked away. “Or are you? I wonder... Did it change you, do you think? Living all that while in Shadow? Not knowing who you really were? Being a part of something else?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I don't know. Yes, I guess I did. I know that it shortened my temper when it comes to family politics.”
“Plain-speaking, blunt, plain-dealing? You miss some of the fun that way. But then there is a value to such novelty. Keep everyone unbalanced with it... revert when they least expect it... Yes, it might prove valuable. Refreshing, too. All right! Panic not. Thus end my preliminaries. All pleasantries are now exchanged. I'll bare the basics, bridle the beast Unreason, and wrest from murky mystery the pearl of sweetest sense. But one thing first, if you would. Have you anything smokable with you? It has been a number of years, and I'd like some foul weed or other-to celebrate my homecoming.”
I started to say no. But I was sure there were some cigarettes in the desk, left there by me. I did not really want the exercise, but, “Just a minute,” I said.
I tried to make my movements look casual rather than stiff as I rose and crossed the room. I attempted to make it seem as if I were resting my hand naturally upon the desktop as I rummaged through it, rather than leaning as heavily as I was. I masked my movements with my body and my cloak as much as possible.
I located the package and returned as I had come, stopping to light a pair at the hearth. Brand was slow in taking his from me.
“Your hand is rather shaky,” he said. “What is the matter?”
“Too much partying last night,” I said, returning to my chair.
“I hadn't thought of that. I imagine there would have been, wouldn't there? Of course. Everyone together in one room... Unexpected success in finding me, bringing me back... A desperate move on the part of a very nervous, very guilty person... Half success there. Me injured and mum, but for how long? Then—”
“You said that you knew who did it. Were you kidding?”
“No, I was not.”
“Who then?”
“In its place, dear brother. In its place. Sequence and order, time and stress-they are most important in this matter. Allow me to savor the drama of the event in safe retrospect. I see me punctured and all of you gathered round. Ah! what would I not give to witness that tableau! Could you possibly describe for me the expression on each face?”
“I'm afraid their faces were my least concern at the time.” He sighed and blew smoke.
“Ah, that is good,” he said. “Never mind, I can see their faces. I've a vivid imagination, you know. Shock, distress, puzzlement-shading over into suspicion, fear. Then all of you departed, I'm told, and gentle Gerard my nursemaid here.” He paused, stared into the smoke, and for a moment the note of mockery was absent.
“He is the only decent one among us, you know.”
“He's high on my list,” I said.
“He took good care of me. He's always looked out for the rest of us.” He chuckled suddenly. “Frankly, I can't see why he bothers. As I was musing, though-prompted by your recuperating self-you must have adjourned to talk things over. There is another party I'm sad I missed. All those emotions and suspicions and lies bouncing off one another-and no one wanting to be the first to say good night. It must have gotten shrill after a time. Everyone on his own best behavior, with an eye out to blacken the rest. Attempts to intimidate the one guilty person. Perhaps a few stones shied at scapegoats. But, all in all, nothing much really accomplished. Am I right?”
I nodded, appreciative of the way his mind worked, and resigned to letting him tell it his way.
“You know you're right,” I said.
He gave me a sharp look at that, then went on. “But everyone did finally go off, to lie awake worrying, or to get together with an accomplice, to scheme. There were hidden turmoils in the night. It is flattering to know that my well-being was on everyone's mind. Some, of course, were for it, others against. And in the midst of it all, I rallied-nay, flourished-not wishing to disappoint my supporters. Gerard spent a long while bringing me up to date on recent history. When I had enough of this, I sent for you.”
“In case you haven't noticed. I'm here. What did you want to tell me?”
“Patience, brother! Patience! Consider all the years you spent in Shadow, not even remembering-this.” He gestured widely with his cigarette. “Consider all that time you waited, unknowing, until I succeeded in locating you and tried to remedy your plight. Surely a few moments now are not so priceless by contrast.”
“I was told that you had sought me,” I said. “I wondered at that, for we had not exactly parted on the best of terms the last time we were together.”
He nodded.
“I cannot deny it,” he said. “But I always get over such things, eventually.”
I snorted.
“I have been deciding how much to tell you, and what you would believe,” he continued. “I doubted you would accept it if I had simply come out and said that, save for a few small items, my present motives are almost entirely altruistic.”
I snorted again.
“But this is true,” he went on, “and to lay your suspicions, I add that it is because I have small choice in it. Beginnings are always difficult. Wherever I begin, something preceded it. You were gone for so long. If one must name a single thing, however, then let it be the throne. There. I have said it. We had thought of a way to take it, you see. This was just after your disappearance, and in some ways, I suppose, prompted by it. Dad suspected Eric of having slain you. But there was no evidence. We worked on this feeling, though-a word here and there, every now and then. Years passed, with you unreachable by any means, and it seemed more and more likely that you were indeed dead. Dad looked upon Eric with growing disfavor. Then, one night, pursuant to a discussion I had begun on a totally neutral matter-most of us present at the table-he said that no fratricide would ever take the throne, and he was looking at Eric as he said it. You know how his eyes could get. Eric grew bright as a sunset and could not swallow for a long while. But then Dad took things much further than any of us had anticipated or desired. In fairness to you, I do not know whether he spoke solely to vent his feelings, or whether he actually meant what he said. But he told us that he had more than half decided upon you as his successor, so that he took whatever misadventure had befallen you quite personally. He would not have spoken of it, but that he was convinced as to your passing. In the months that followed, we reared you a cenotaph to give some solid form to this conclusion, and we made certain that no one forgot Dad's feelings toward Eric. All along, after yourself, Eric was the one we felt had to be gotten around to reach the throne.”