The rotation of the sky seemed to be bringing more darkness upon us. There were voices off to my left. It seemed they had been talking for a long while, but I had not been hearing their words. I realized that I was shaking, that I ached all over, that I could barely stand.
“Come and lie down,” Fiona said. “The family has shrunken enough for one day.”
I let her lead me away from the edge.
“Would it really make any difference?” I asked. “How much longer do you think we have?”
“We do not have to stay here and wait for it,” she said. “We will cross the dark bridge into the Courts. We have already broken their defense. The storm may not reach that far. It may be stopped here by the abyss. We ought to see Dad off, anyway.”
I nodded.
“It would seem we have small choice but to be dutiful unto the end.”
I eased myself down and sighed. If anything, I felt even weaker now.
“Your boots…” she said.
“Yes.”
She pulled them off. My feet throbbed.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll get you some rations.”
I closed my eyes. I dozed. Too many images played within my head to make for a coherent dream. How long this lasted. I do not know, but an old reflex drew me to wakefulness at the sound of an approaching horse. Then a shadow passed over my eyelids.
I looked up and beheld a muffled rider, silent, still. I was regarded.
I looked back. No threatening gesture had been made, but there was a feeling of antipathy in that cold gaze.
“There lies the hero,” said a soft voice.
I said nothing.
“I could slay you easily now.”
I recognized the voice then, though I had no idea as to the reason behind the sentiment.
“I came upon Borel before he died,” she said. “He told me how ignobly you had bested him.”
I could not help it, I could not control it. A dry chuckle rose in my throat. Of all the stupid things to get upset about. I might have told her that Borel had been far better equipped and far fresher than I, and that he had come to me looking for a fight. I might have told her that I do not recognize rules when my life is at stake, or that I do not consider war a game. I could have said a great number of things, but if she did not know them already or did not choose to understand them, they would not have made a bit of difference. Besides, her feelings were already plain.
So I simply said one of the great trite truths: “There is generally more than one side to a story.”
“I will settle for the one I have,” she told me.
I thought about shrugging, but my shoulders were too sore.
“You have cost me two of the most important persons in my life,” she said then.
“Oh?” I said. “I’m sorry, for you.”
“You are not what I was led to believe. I had seen you as a truly noble figure — strong, yet understanding and sometimes gentle. Honorable…”
The storm, much closer now, was flaring at her back. I thought of something vulgar and said it. She let it pass as if she had not heard me.
“I am going now,” she said, “back to my own people. You have won the day thus far — but that way lay Amber.” She gestured toward the storm. I could only stare. Not at the raging elements. At her. “I doubt there is anything of my new allegiance left for me to renounce,” she continued.
“What about Benedict?” I asked softly.
“Don’t…” she said, and she turned away. There was a silence. Then, “I do not believe that we will ever meet again,” she said, and her horse carried her off to my left, in the direction of the black road.
A cynic might have decided that she had simply chosen to toss in her lot with what she now saw as the winning side, as the Courts of Chaos would likely survive. I simply did not know. I could think only of what I had seen when she had gestured. The cowling had slipped away and I had gotten a glimpse of what she had become. It had not been a human face, there within the shadows. But I turned my head and watched until she was gone. With Deirdre, Brand and Dad gone, and now a parting with Dara on these terms, the world was much emptier — whatever was left of it.
I lay back and sighed. Why not just remain here when the others departed, wait for the storm to wash over me, and sleep… dissolve? I thought of Hugi. Had I digested his flight from life as well as his flesh? I was so tired that it seemed the easiest course…
“Here, Corwin.”
I had been dozing again, though only for a moment. Fiona was beside me once more, with rations and a flask. Someone was with her.
“I did not wish to interrupt your audience,” she said. “So I waited.”
“You heard?” I asked.
“No, but I can guess,” she said, “since she is gone. Here.”
I swallowed some wine, turned my attention to the meat, the bread. Despite my state of mind, they tasted good to me.
“We will be moving soon,” Fiona said, casting a glance at the raging stormfront. “Can you ride?”
“I think so,” I said.
I took another drink of the wine.
“But too much has happened, Fi,” I told her. “I have gone numb emotionally. I broke out of a sanitarium on a shadow world. I have tricked people and I’ve killed people. I have calculated and I have fought. I won back my memory and I have been trying to straighten out my life. I have found my family, and found that I love it. I have been reconciled with Dad. I have fought for the kingdom. I have tried everything I know to hold things together. Now it appears that it has all come to nothing, and I have not enough spirit left to mourn further. I have gone numb. Forgive me.”
She kissed me.
“We are not yet beaten. You will be yourself again,” she said.
I shook my head.
“It is like the last chapter of Alice,” I said. “If I shout, ‘You are only a pack of cards!’ I feel we will all fly into the air, a hand of painted pasteboards. I am not going with you. Leave me here. I am only the Joker, anyway.”
“Right now, I am stronger than you are,” she said. “You are coming.”
“It is not fair,” I said softly.
“Finish eating,” she said. “There is still some time.”
As I did, she went on, “Your son Merlin is waiting to see you. I would like to call him up here now.”
“Prisoner?”
“Not exactly. He was not a combatant. He just arrived a little while ago, asking to see you.”
I nodded and she went away. I abandoned my rations and took another swig of wine. I had just become nervous. What do you say to a grown son you only recently learned existed? I wondered about his feelings toward me. I wondered whether he knew of Dara’s decision. How should I act with him?
I watched him approach from a place where my relatives were clustered, far off to my left. I had wondered why they had left me by myself this way. The more visitors I received the more apparent it became. I wondered whether they were holding up the withdrawal because of me. The storm’s moist winds were growing stronger. He was staring at me as he advanced, no special expression on that face so much like my own. I wondered how Dara felt now that her prophecy of the destruction seemed to have been fulfilled. I wondered how her relationship with the boy actually stood. I wondered… many things.
He leaned forward to clasp my hand.
“Father…” he said.
“Merlin.”
I looked into his eyes. I rose to my feet, still holding his hand.
“Do not get up.”
“It is all right.”
I clasped him to me, then released him.
“I am glad,” I said.
Then: “Drink with me.” I offered him the wine, partly to cover my lack of words.
“Thank you.”
He took it, drank some and passed it back.
“Your health,” I said and took a sip myself.
“Sorry I cannot offer you a chair.”