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“Your panel?”
“It secures from the inside. I keep it that way now. And the door's lock is a new one. Tricky.”
“All right, I have it. My answer requires that it be a family member, too.”
“Tell me.”
“Someone was willing to psyche himself up and tough it through the Pattern again for a shot at you. He went below, walked it, projected himself into your room, and attacked you.”
“That would be perfect except for one thing. We all left at pretty much the same time. The attack did not occur later on in the evening. It happened immediately on my entering. I do not believe there was sufficient time for one of us to get down to the chamber, let alone negotiate the Pattern. The attacker was already waiting. So if it was one of us, he had gotten in by some other means.”
“Then he picked your lock, tricks and all.”
“Possibly,” I said as we reached the landing and continued on. “We will rest at the comer so that I can go on into the library unassisted.”
“Sure thing.”
We did that. I composed myself, drew the cloak completely about me, squared my shoulders, advanced, and knocked on the door.
“Just a minute.” Gerard's voice. Footsteps approaching the door...
“Who is it?”
“Corwin,” I said. “Random's with me.”
I heard him call back, “You want Random, too?” and I heard a soft “No” in reply.
The door opened.
“Just you. Corwin,” Gerard said.
I nodded and turned to Random.
“Later,” I told him.
He returned my nod and headed back in the direction from which we had come. I entered the library.
“Open your cloak, Corwin,” Gerard ordered.
“That is not necessary,” Brand said, and I looked over and saw that he was propped up by a number of cushions and showing a yellow-toothed smile.
“Sorry, I am not as trusting as Brand,” Gerard said, “and I will not have my work wasted. Let's have a look.”
“I said that it is not necessary,” Brand repeated. “He is not the one who stabbed me.”
Gerard turned quickly.
“How do you know he isn't?” he asked.
“Because I know who did, of course. Don't be an ass, Gerard. I wouldn't have asked for him if I had reason to fear him.”
“You were unconscious when I brought you through. You couldn't know who did it.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Well... Why didn't you tell me, then?”
“I have my reasons, and they are valid ones. I want to speak with Corwin alone now.”
Gerard lowered his head..
“You had better not be delirious,” he said. He stepped to the door, opened it again. “I'll be within hailing distance,” he added, and closed it behind him.
I moved nearer. Brand reached up and I clasped his hand.
“Good to see that you made it back,” he said.
“Vice versa,” I said, and then I took Gerard's chair, trying not to collapse into it.
“How do you feel now?” I asked.
“Rotten, in one sense. But better than I have in years, in another. It's all relative.”
“Most things are.”
“Not Amber.”
I sighed.
“All right. I wasn't getting technical. What the hell happened?”
His gaze was most intense. He was studying me, looking for something. What? Knowledge, I'd guess. Or, more correctly, ignorance. Negatives being harder to gauge, his mind had to be moving fast, must have been from the moment he had come around. Knowing him, he was more interested in what I did not know than in what I knew. He wasn't going to give away anything if he could help it. He wanted to know the minimum enlightenment he need shed in order to get what he wanted. Not a watt more would he willingly spend. For this was his way, and of course he wanted something. Unless... More strongly in recent years than ever before I have tried to convince myself that people do change, that the passage of time does not serve merely to accentuate that which is already there, that qualitative changes do sometimes occur in people because of things they have done, seen, thought, and felt. It would provide some small solace in times such as these when everything else seems to be going wrong, not to mention pepping up my mundane philosophy no end. And Brand had probably been responsible for saving my life and my memory, whatever his reasons. Very well, I resolved to give him the doubt's benefit without exposing my back. A small concession here, my move against the simple psychology of humors which generally governs the openings of our games.
“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.