«Not so long as we know each other,» I said.
Julian dropped the flap, returned to us, and sought his wine cup.
«Your food will be along in a few minutes,» he told Luke.
«Thanks.»
«According to Benedict,» he said, «you told Random that Dalt is a son of Oberon.»
«I did,» Luke acknowledged. «One who's walked the Pattern, at that. Does it make a difference?»
Julian shrugged.
«Won't be the first time I've wanted to kill a relative,» he stated. «By the way, you're my nephew, aren't you?»
«Right… uncle.»
Julian swirled the contents of his cup again.
«Well, welcome to Amber,» he said. «I heard a banshee last night. I wonder if there's any connection?»
«Change,» Luke said. «They mean things are changing and they wail for what's being lost.»
«Death. They mean death, don't they?»
«Not always. Sometimes they just show up at turning points for dramatic effect.»
«Too bad,» Julian said. «But one can always hope.»
I thought Luke was going to say something else, but Julian began again before he could.
«How well did you know your father?» he asked.
Luke stiffened slightly, but answered, «Maybe not well as most. I don't know. He was like a salesman. Always coming and going. Didn't usually stay with us long.»
Julian nodded.
«What was he like, near the end?» he inguired.
Luke studied his hands.
«Well, he wasn't exactly normal, if that's what you mean,» he finally said. «Like I was telling Merlin earlier, I think the process he undertook to gain his powers might have unbalanced him some.»
«I never heard that story.»
Luke shrugged.
«The details aren't all that important just the results.»
«You're saying he wasn't a bad father before that?»
«Hell, I don't know. I never had another father to a compare him to. Why do you ask?»
«Curiosity. It's a part of his life I knew nothing about.»
«Well, what kind of brother was he?»
«Wild,» Julian said. «We didn't get along all that well. So we pretty much stayed out of each other's ways. He was smart, though. Talented, too. Had a flare for the arts. I was just trying to figure how much you might take after him.»
Luke turned his hands palms upward. «Beats me,» he said.
«Well, no matter,» Julian replied, setting down his cup and turning toward the front of the tent again. «I believe your food is about to arrive.»
He moved off in that direction. I could hear the tiny crystals of ice rattling against the canvas overhead, and a few growls from outside: concerto for wind and hellhound. No banshees, though. Not yet.
Chapter 9
I walked a pace or so behind Luke, a couple of yards off to his left, trying to keep even with Julian, who was over to the right. The torch I bore was a big thing, about six tapering feet of pitchy wood, sharpened at its terminus to make it easy to drive into the ground. I held it at arm's distance, because the oily flames licked and lashed in all directions in accord with vagaries of the wind. Sharp, icy flakes fell upon my cheek, my forehead, my hands, with a few catching in my eyebrows and lashes. I blinked vigorously as the heat of the torch melted them and they ran into my eyes. The grasses beneath my feet were sufficiently cold to give a brittle, crunching sensation every time I took a step. Directly ahead I could see the slow advance of two other torches toward us, and the shadowy figure of a man who walked between them. I blinked and waited for the flow from one or the other of his torches to give me a better look. I'd only seen him once, very briefly, via Trump, back at Arbor House. His hair looked golden, or even coppery, by what light there was upon it, but I remembered it as a kind of dirty blond by natural light. His eyes, I recalled, were green, though there was no way I could see that now. I did begin to realize for the first time, however, that he was pretty big - either that or he had chosen fairly short torchbearers. He had been alone that one time I'd seen him, and I had had no standard for comparison. As the light from our torches reached him I saw that he had on a heavy, green sleeveless doublet without a collar, over something black and also heavy, with sleeves that extended down his arms to vanish within green gauntlets. His trousers were black, as were the high boots they entered; his cloak was black and lined with an emerald green that caught our light as the cloak furled about him in shifting, oily landscapes of yellow and red. He wore a heavy circular medallion, which looked to be gold, on a chain about his neck; and though I could not make out the details of its device, I was certain that it bore a Lion rending a Unicorn. He came to a halt about ten or twelve paces from Luke, who stopped an instant later. Dalt gestured, and his retainers drove the butts of their torches into the ground. Julian and I immediately did the same, and we remained near them, as Dalt's men were doing. Then Dalt nodded to Luke, and they both advanced again, meeting at the center of the box formed by the lights, clasping right forearms, staring into each other's eyes. Luke's back was to me, but I could see Dalt's face. He showed no signs of emotion, but his lips were already moving. I couldn't hear a word that was being said, between the wind and the fact that they seemed intentionally to be keeping it low. At least, I finally had a point of reference for Dalt's size. Luke is about six three, and I could see that Dalt was several inches taller. I glanced at Julian, but he was not looking my way. I wondered how many eyes regarded us from both sides of the field.
Julian is always a bad person to check for reactions. He was simply watching the two of them, expressionless, stolid. I cultivated the same attitude, and the minutes passed, the snow kept falling.
After a long while Luke turned away and headed back toward us. Dalt moved off toward one of his torchbearers. Luke stopped midway between us, and Julian and I moved to join him.
«What's up?» I asked him.
«Oh,» he said, «I think I found a way of settling this without a war.»
«Great,» I said. «What did you sell him?»
«I sold him on the idea of fighting a duel with me to determine how this thing goes,» he explained.
«God damn it, Luke!» I said. «That guy's a pro! And I'm sure he's got our genetic package for strength. And he's been living in the field all this time. He's probably in top shape. And he outweighs you and outreaches you.»
Luke grinned.
«So, I might get lucky,» he said. He looked at Julian. «Anyway, if you can get a message back to the lines and tell them not to attack when we start this thing, Dalt's side will be holding still for it, too.»
Julian looked over to where one of Dalt's torchbearers had started back toward his lines. He turned toward his own side then and executed a number of hand signals. Shortly, a man emerged from cover and began jogs toward us.
«Luke;» I said. «This is crazy. The only way you're going to win is to get Benedict for a second and then break a leg.»
«Merle,» he said, «let it go. This is between Dalt and me. Okay?»
«I've got a bunch of fairly fresh spells,» I said. «We can let this thing start, and then I'll hit him with one at the right time. It'll look as if you did it.»
«No!» he said. «This really is a matter of honor. So you've got to stay out of it.»
«Okay,» I said, «if that's how you want it.»
«Besides, nobody's going to die,» he explained. «Neither of us wants that right now, and it's part of the
