A young couple was just abandoning a corner table off to my left, drinks in hand, to follow a waitress into the adjacent dining room. I took the table. A little later a cocktail waitress came by, and I ordered a beer.
Sitting there, several minutes later, sipping, and letting my mind drift over the perversely plotted events of the past several days, I realized that one of the place's passing figures had failed to pass. It had come to a halt at my side - just far enough to the rear to register only as a dark peripheral presence.
It spoke softly: «Excuse me. May I ask you a question?»
I turned my head, to behold a short, thin man of Spanish appearance, his hair and mustache flecked with gray. He was sufficiently well dressed and groomed to seem a local business type. I noted a chipped front tooth when he smiled so briefly - just a twitch - as to indicate nervousness.
«My name's Dan Martinez,» he said, not offering to shake hands. He glanced at the chair across from me. «Could I sit down a minute?»
«What's this about? If you're selling something, I'm not interested. I'm waiting for somebody and-'
He shook his head.
«No, nothing like that. I'know you're waiting for someone - a Mr. Lucas Raynard. It involves him, actually»
I gestured at the chair.
«Okay. Sit down and ask your question.»
He did so, clasping his hands and placing them on the table between us. He leaned forward.
«I overheard you talking in the lobby,» he began, «and I got the impression you knew him fairly well. Would you mind telling me for about how long you've known him?»
«If that's all you want to know,» I answered, «for about eight years. We went to college together, and we worked for the same company for several years after that.»
«Grand Design,» he stated, «the San Francisco computer firm. Didn't know him before college, huh?»
«It seems you already know quite a bit,» I said. «What did you want, anyway? Are you some kind of cop?»
«No,» he said, «nothing like that. I assure you I'm not trying to get your friend into trouble. I am simply trying to save myself some. Let me just ask you-'
I shook my head.
«No more freebies,» I told him. «I don't care to talk to strangers about my friends without some pretty good reasons.»
He unclasped his hands and spread them wide.
«I'm not being underhanded,» he said, «when I know you'll tell him about it. In fact, I want you to. He knows me. I want him to know I'm asking around about him, okay? It'll actually be to his benefit. Hell, I'm even asking - a friend, aren't I? Someone who might be willing to lie to help him out. And I just need a couple simple facts -»
«And I just need one simple reason: why do you want this information?»
He sighed. «Okay,» he said. «He offered me - tentatively, mind you - a very interesting investment opportunity. It would involve a large sum of money. There is an element of risk, as in most ventures involving new companies in a highly competitive area, but the possible returns do make it tempting.»
I nodded.
«And you want to know whether he's honest.»
He chuckled.
«I don't really care whether he's honest,» he said. «My only concern is whether he can deliver a product with no strings on it.»
Something about the way this man talked reminded me of someone. I tried, but couldn't recall who it was:
«Ah,» I said, taking a sip of beer. «I'm slow today. Sorry. Of course this deal involves computers.»
«Of course.»
«You want to know whether his present employer can nail him if he goes into business out here with whatever he's bringing with him.»
«In a word, yes.»
«I give up,» I said. «It would take a better man than me to answer that. Intellectual properties represent a tricky area of the law. I don't know what he's selling and I don't know where it comes from - he gets around a lot. But even if I did know, I have no idea what your legal position would be.
«I didn't expect anything beyond that,» he said, smiling. I smiled back.
«So you've sent your message,» I said. He nodded and began to rise.
«Oh, just one thing more,» he began.
«Yes?»
«Did he ever mention places,» he said, staring full into my eyes, «called Amber or the Courts of Chaos?»
He could not have failed to note my startled reaction, which had to have given him a completely false impression. I was sure that he was sure I was lying when I answered
him truthfully.
«No, I never heard him refer to them. Why do you ask?»
He shook his head as he pushed his chair back and stepped away from the table. He was smiling again.
«It's not important. Thank you, Mr. Corey. Nus a dhabzhun dhuilsha.»
He practically fled around the corner.
«Wait!» I called out, so loudly that there was a moment of silence and heads turned in my direction.
I got to my feet and started after him, when I heard my name called.
«Hey, Merle! Don't run off! I'm here already!»
I turned. Luke had just come in through the entrance behind me, hair still shower-damp. He advanced, clapped me on the shoulder, and lowered himself into the seat Martinez had just vacated. He nodded at my half finished beer as I sat down again.
«I need one of those,» he said. «Lord, am I thirsty!» Then, «Where were you off to when I came in?»
I found myself reluctant to describe my recent encounter, not least because of its strange conclusion. Apparently, he had just missed seeing Martinez.
So: «I was heading for the john.»
«It's back that way,» he told me, nodding in the direction from which he had entered. «I passed it on the way in.» His eyes shifted downward.
«Say, that ring you have on -»
«Oh, yeah,» I said. «You left it at the New Line Motel. I picked it up for you when I collected your message. Here, let me…»
I tugged at it, but it wouldn't come off.
«Seems to be stuck,» I noted. «Funny. It went on easy enough.»
«Maybe your finger's swollen,» he remarked. «It could have something to do with the altitude. We're up pretty high.»
He caught the waitress's attention and ordered a beer, while I kept twisting at the ring.
«Guess I'll just have to sell it to you;» he said: «Give you a good deal.»
«We'll see,» I told him. «Back in a minute.»
He raised one hand limply and let it fall as I headed toward the rest room.
There was no one else in the facility, and so I spoke the words that released Frakir from the suppression spell I had uttered back aboard the Shuttlejack. There followed immediate movement. Before I could issue another command, Frakir became shimmeringly visible in the act of uncoiling, crept across the back of my hand and wound about my ring finger. I watched, fascinated, as the finger darkened and began to ache beneath a steady tightening.
A loosening followed quickly, leaving my finger looking as if it had been threaded. I got the idea. I unscrewed the ring along the track that had been pressed into my flesh. Frakir moved again as if to snag it and I stroked her.
