'Then we really did see it,' Gerard said.
I nodded.
'We saw something. Did you ever see it before?'
'No. Did you?'
I shook my head.
'Julian claims he once saw it,' he said, 'in the distance. Says his hounds refused to give chase.'
'It was beautiful. That long, silky tail, those shiny hooves...'
'Yes. Dad always took it as a good omen.'
'I'd like to myself.'
'Strange time for it to appear... All these years...'
I nodded again.
'Is there a special observance? It being our patron and all... is there something we should do?'
'If there is, Dad never told me about it,' I said.
I patted the rock on which it had appeared.
'If you herald some turn in our fortunes, if you bring us some measure of grace-thanks, unicorn,' I said. 'And even if you do not, thanks for the brightness of your company at a dark time.'
We went and drank from the spring then. We secured our grim parcel on the back of the third horse. We led our mounts until we were away from the place, where, save for the water, things had become very still.
Chapter 6
Life's incessant ceremonies leap everlasting, humans spring eternal on hope's breast, and frying pans without fires are often far between: the sum of my long life's wisdom that evening, tendered in a spirit of creative anxiety, answered by Random with a nod and a friendly obscenity.
We were in the library, and I was seated on the edge of the big desk. Random occupied a chair to my right. Gerard stood at the other end of the room, inspecting some weapons that hung on the wall. Or maybe it was Rein's etching of the unicorn he was looking at. Whichever, along with ourselves, he was also ignoring Julian, who was slouched in an easy chair beside the display cases, right center, legs extended and crossed at the ankles, arms folded, staring down at his scaley boots. Fiona-five-two, perhaps, in height-green eyes fixed on Flora's own blue as they spoke, there beside the fireplace, hair more than compensating for the vacant hearth, smoldering, reminded me, as always, of something from which the artist had just drawn back, setting aside his tools, questions slowly forming behind his smile. The place at the base of her throat where his thumb had notched the collarbone always drew my eyes as the mark of a master craftsman, especially when she raised her head, quizzical or imperious, to regard us taller others. She smiled faintly, just then, doubtless aware of my gaze, an almost clairvoyant faculty the acceptance of which has never deprived of its ability to disconcert. Llewella, off in a comer, pretending to study a book, had her back to the rest of us, her green tresses bobbed a couple of inches above her dark collar. Whether her withdrawal involved animus, self-conscious in her alienation, or simple caution, I could never be certain. Probably something of all these. Hers was not that familiar a presence in Amber.
... And the fact that we constituted a collection of individuals rather than a group, a family, at a time when I wanted to achieve some over-identity, some will to cooperate, was what led to my observations and Random's acknowledgement.
I felt a familiar presence, heard a 'Hello, Corwin' and there was Deirdre, reaching toward me. I extended my hand, clasped her own, raised it. She took a step forward, as if to the first strain of some formal dance, and moved close, facing me. For an instant a grilled window had framed her head and shoulders and a rich tapestry had adorned the wall to her left. Planned and posed, of course. Still, effective. She held my Trump in her left hand. She smiled. The others glanced our way as she appeared and she hit them all with that smile, like the Mona Lisa with a machine gun, turning slowly.
'Corwin,' she said, kissing me briefly and withdrawing, 'I fear I am early.'
'Never,' I replied, turning toward Random, who had just risen and who anticipated me by seconds.
'May I fetch you a drink, sister?' he asked, taking her hand and nodding toward the sideboard.
'Why, yes. Thank you,' and he led her off and poured her some wine, avoiding or at least postponing, I suppose, her usual clash with Flora. At least, I assumed most of the old frictions were still alive as I remembered them. So if it cost me her company for the moment it also maintained the domestic-tranquility index, which was important to me just then. Random can be good at such things when he wants to.
I drummed the side of the desk with my fingertips, I rubbed my aching shoulder, I uncrossed and recrossed my legs, I debated lighting a cigarette... .
Suddenly he was there. At the far end of the room, Gerard had turned to his left, said something, and extended his hand. An instant later, he was clasping the left and only hand of Benedict, the final member of our group.
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.
