«Funny, I've heard him say the same thing about you.»
«You see him often?»
«Often? No.»
«When was the last time?»
«About two cycles ago.»
«Where is he?»
«Here, in the Courts.»
«At Sawall?» I had visions of him joining us for lunch. I wouldn't put something like that past Dara either.
«One of its byways, I think. He's rather reticent concerning his comings and goings - and stayings.»
There being something like eight byway residences to Sawall that I knew of, it would be difficult to run him down through byways that could lead well into Shadow. Not that I'd any desire to, at the moment.
«What brings him home?» I asked.
«The same thing as yourself, the funeral,» he said, «and all that goes with it.»
All that goes with it, indeed! If there were a genuine plot to put me on the throne, I could never forget that willing or unwilling, successful or unsuccessful - Jurt would be a step or two behind me all the way.
«I may have to kill him,» I said. «I don't want to. But he's not giving me a whole lot of choice. Sooner or later, he's going to force us into a position where it has to be one or the other.»
«Why do you tell me this?»
«So you'll know how I feel about it, and so that you might use whatever influence you may still have to persuade him to find a different hobby.»
He shook his head.
«Jun moved beyond my influence a long time ago,» he said. «Dara's about the only one he'll listen tothough I suspect he's still afraid of Suhuy. You might speak to her concerning this matter, soon.»
«It's the one thing neither of us can discuss with her - the other.»
«Why not?»
«It's just the way it is. She always misunderstands.»
«I'm certain she's not going to want her sons killing each other.»
«Of course not, but I don't know how to put the matter to her.»
«I suggest you make an effort to find a way. In the meantime, I would contrive not to be alone with Jurt should your paths cross. And if it were me, in the presence of witnesses, I would make certain that the first blow was not mine.»
«Well taken, Mandor,» I said.
We sat for a time in silence. Then, «You will think about my proposal,» he said.
«As I understand it,» I replied.
He frowned.
«If you have any questions…»
«No. I'll be thinking.»
He rose. I got to my feet, also. With a gesture, he cleared the table. Then he turned away and I followed him out of the gazebo and across its yard to the trail.
We emerged after a stroll in his external study cum receiving room. He squeezed my shoulder as we headed for the exit.
«I'll see you at the funeral then,» he remarked.
«Yes,» I said. «Thanks for the breakfast.»
«By the way, how well do you like that lady, Coral?» he asked.
«Oh, pretty well,» I said. «She's quite-nice. Why?»
He shrugged.
«Just curious. I was concerned about her, having been present at the time of her misadventure, and I wondered how much she meant to you.»
«Enough that it bothers me a lot,» I said.
«I see. Well, give her my good wishes if you should talk to her.»
«Thanks, I will.»
«We'll talk again later.»
«Yes.»
I strode into the way, making no haste. I still had considerable time before I was due by the Ways of Sawall.
I paused when I came to a gibbet-shaped tree. A moment's reflection and I turned left, following an ascending trail among dark rocks. Near its top, I walked directly into a mossy boulder, emerging from a sandbank into a light rain. I ran across the field before me, till I came to the fairy circle beneath the ancient tree. I stepped to its middle, made up a couplet with my name for the rhyme, and sank into the ground. When I was halted and the moment's darkness went away, I found myself beside a damp stone wall, looking downhill across a prospect of headstones and monuments. The sky was fully overcast and a cool breeze wandered by. It felt to be one of the ends of a day, but whether morning or twilight lay near, I could not tell. The place looked exactly as I remembered it - cracked mausoleums hung with ivy, falling stone fences, wandering paths beneath high, dark trees. I moved down familiar trails.
As a child, this had been a favored playground of mine, for a time. I met here almost daily, for dozens of cycles, with a little shadow girl named Rhanda. Kicking through boneheaps, brushing by damp shrubbery, I came at length to the damaged mausoleum where we had played house. Pushing aside the sagging gate, I entered.
Nothing had changed, and I found myself chuckling. The cracked cups and saucers, tarnished utensils, were still stacked in the corner, heavy with dust, stained with seepage. I brushed off the catafalque we'd used as a table, seated myself upon it. One day Rhanda had simply stopped corning, and after a time I had, too. I'd often wondered what sari of woman she had become. I'd left her a note in our hiding place, beneath a loose floor stone, I recalled. I wondered whether she'd ever found it.
I raised the stone. My filthy envelope still lay there, unsealed. I took it out, shook it off, slid out my folded sheet.
I unfolded it, read my faded childish scrawl: What happened Rhanda? 1 waited and you didn't come. Beneath it, in a far neater hand, was written: I can't come anymore because my folks say you are a demon or a vampire. I'm sorry because you are the nicest demon or vampire I know. I'd never thought of that possibility. Amazing, the ways one can be misunderstood.
I sat there for a time, remembering growing up. I'd taught Rhanda the bonedance game in here. I snapped my fingers then, and our old ensorcelled heap of them across the way made a sound like stirring leaves. My juvenile spell was still in place; the bones rolled forward, arranged themselves into a pair of manikins, began their small, awkward dance. They circled each other, barely holding their shapes, pieces flaking away, cobwebs trailing; loose ones - spares - began to bounce about them. They made tiny clicking sounds as they touched. I moved them faster.
A shadow crossed the doorway, and I heard a chuckle. «I'll be damned! All you need's a tin roof. So this is how they spend their time in Chaos.»
«Luke!» I exclaimed as he stepped inside, my manikins collapsing as my attention left them, into little gray, sticklike heaps. «What are you doing here?»
«Could say I was selling cemetery lots,» he observed. «You interested in one?»
He had on a red shirt and brown khakis tucked into his brown suede boots. A tan cloak hung about his shoulders. He was grinning.
«Why aren't you off ruling?»
His smile went away, to be replaced by a moment of puzzlement, returned almost instantly.
«Oh, felt I needed a break. What about you? There's a funeral soon, isn't there?»
I nodded.
«Later on,» I said. «I'm just taking a break myself. How'd you get here, anyway?»
«Followed my nose,» he said. «Needed some intelligent conversation.»
«Be serious. Nobody knew I was coming here. I didn't even know it till the last minute. I-»
