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Perhaps three quarters of a mile later we came to a crossroads. There was a low stone marker at
the far left corner giving the distance to Amber, the distance back to Baylesport, the distance to
Baylecrest in the east and to a place called Murn, straight ahead.
"What's Murn?" I asked.
"A little dairy village."
No way I could check that, without traveling six leagues.
"You plan on riding back to Amber?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Why not just use a Trump?"
"I want to get to know the area better. It's my home. I like it here."
"But I explained to you about the danger. The stones have marked you. You can be tracked."
"That doesn't mean I will be tracked. I doubt that whoever sent the ones I met last night would even
be aware this soon that they'd found me and failed. They'd still be lurking about if I hadn't decided to go
out for dinner. I'm sure I have a few days' grace in which to remove the markings you spoke of."
She dismounted and let her horse nibble a few blades of grass. I did the same. Dismounted, that is.
"You're probably right. I just don't like to see you taking any chances," she said. "When are you
planning on heading back?"
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"I don't know. I suppose that the longer I wait the more likely it is that the person behind last night's
business will get restless and maybe send more muscle."
She took hold of my arm and turned, so that she was suddenly pressed against me. I was somewhat
surprised by the act, but my free arm automatically moved to hold the lady as it tends to on such
occasions.
"You weren't planning on leaving now, were you? Because if you are, I'm going with you."
"No," I answered truthfully. Actually, I'd been thinking of departing the following morning, following
a good night's sleep.
"When, then? We still have a lot of things to talk about."
"I think we've pushed the question-and-answer business about as far as you're willing to let it go."
"There are some things-"
"I know."
Awkward, this. Yes, she was desirable. And no, I didn't care to have anything to do with her that
way. Partly because I felt she wanted something else as well-what, I wasn't sure-and partly because I
was certain she possessed a peculiar power to which I did not wish to expose myself at intimate range.
As my Uncle Suhuy used to say, speaking technically as a sorcerer, "If you don't understand it, don't
screw around with it." And I had a feeling that anything beyond a friendly acquaintanceship with Vinta
could well turn into a duel of energies.
So I kissed her quickly to stay friendly and disengaged myself.
"Maybe I'll head back tomorrow," I told her.
"Good. I was hoping you'd spend the night. Perhaps several. I will protect you."
"Yes, I'm still very tired," I said.
"We'll have to feed you a good meal and build up your strength."
She brushed my cheek with her fingertips then, and I suddenly realized that I did know her from
somewhere. Where? I couldn't say. And that, too, frightened me. More than a little. As we mounted and
headed back toward Arbor House I began making my plans for getting out of there that night.
So, sitting in my room, sipping a glass of my absent host's wine (the red) and watching the candles
flicker in the breeze from an opened window, I waited-first for the house to grow quiet (which it had),
then for a goodly time to pass. My door was latched. I had mentioned how tired I felt several times
during dinner, and then I had retired early. I am not so egotistically male that I feel myself constantly
lusted after, but Vinta had given indication that she might stop by and I wanted the excuse of heavy
sleeping. Least of all did I wish to offend her. I had problems enough without turning my strange ally
against me.
I wished I still had a good book about, but I'd left my last one at Bill's place, and if I were to
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summon it now I did not know but that Vinta might sense the sending, just as Fiona had once known I
was creating a Trump, and come pounding on the door to see what the hell was going on.
But no one came pounding, and I listened to the creakings of a quiet house and the night sounds
without. The candles shortened themselves and the shadows on the wall behind the bed ebbed and
Howed like a dark tide beyond their swaying light. I thought my thoughts and sipped my wine. Pretty
soon. . . .
An imagining? Or had I just heard my name whispered from some undetectable place?
"Merle. . . ."
Again.
Real, but
My vision seemed to swim for a moment, and then I realized it for what it was: a very weak Trump
contact.
"Yes," I said, opening and extending. "Who is it?"
"Merle, baby. . . . Give me a hand or I've had it. . . ."
Luke!
"Right here," I said, reaching, reaching, as the image grew clear, solidified.
He was leaning, his back against a wall, shoulders slumped, head hanging.
"If this is a trick, Luke, I'm ready for it," I told him. I rose quickly and, crossing to the table where I
had laid my blade, I drew it and held it ready.
"No trick. Hurry! Get me out of here!"
He raised his left hand. I extended my left hand and caught hold of it. Immediately he slumped
against me, and I staggered. For an instant I thought it was an attack, but he was dead weight and I saw
that there was blood all over him. He still clutched a bloody blade in his right hand. "Over here. Come
on."
I steered him and supported him for several paces, then deposited him on the bed. I pried the blade
from his grip, then placed it along with mine on a nearby chair.
"What the hell happened to you?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]