I groped about in my pockets.
«You didn't plant another of those blue stones on me, did you?»
«No; nothing that simple,» he replied. «I seem to have some sort of message for you.»
I got to my feet, approached him, studying his face.
«Are you okay, Luke?»
«Sure. As okay as I ever am, that is.»
«It's no mean stunt, finding your way this near to the Courts. Especially if you've never been here before. How'd you manage it?»
«Well, the Courts and I go back a long ways, old buddy. You might say it's in my - blood.»
He moved aside from the doorway and I stepped outside. Almost automatically, we began walking.
«I don't understand what you're saying,» I told him.
«Well, my dad spent some time here, back in his plotting days,» he said. «It's where he met my mother.»
«I didn't know that.»
«It never came up. We never talked family, remember?»
«Yeah,» I said, «and no one I asked seemed to know where Jasra came from. Still, the Courts… She's a long way from home.»
«Actually, she was recruited from a nearby shadow,» he explained, «like this one.»
«Recruited?»
«Yes, she worked as a servant for a number of years - I think she was fairly young when she started at the Ways of Helgram.»
«Helgram? That's my mother's House!»
«Right. She was a maid-companion to the lady Dara. That's where she learned the Arts.»
«Jasra got her instruction in sorcery from my mother? And she met Brand at Helgram? That would make it seem Helgram had something to do with Brand's plot, the Black Road, the war-»
«-and the Lady Dara going looking for your father? I guess so.»
«Because she wanted to be a Pattern initiate as well as one of the Logrus?»
«Maybe,» he said. «I wasn't present.»
We moved down a gravelly trail, fumed at a huge cluster of dark shrubbery, passing through a forest of stone and over a bridge that crossed a slow black stream that reflected high branches and sky, monochrome. A few leaves rustled in a stray breeze.
«How come you never mentioned any of this later?» I asked.
«I intended to, but it never seemed urgent,» he said, «whereas a lot of other things did.»
«True,» I said. «The pace did seem to keep picking up each time our trails crossed. But now… Are you saying it's urgent now, that I suddenly need to know this?»
«Oh, not exactly.» He halted. He reached out and leaned upon a headstone. His hand began to grip it, growing white about the knuckles, across the back. The stone at his fingertips was ground to powder, fell snowlike to the earth. «Not exactly,» he repeated. «That part was my idea, just because I wanted you to know. Maybe it'll do you some good, maybe it won't. Information is like that. You never know.» With a crunching, cracking sound, the top of the headstone suddenly gave way. Luke hardly seemed to notice this, and his hand kept on squeezing. Small pieces fell from the larger one he now held.
«So you came all this way to tell me that?»
«No,» he answered, as we turned and began walking back the way we had come. «I was sent to tell you something else, and it's been pretty hard holding off. But I figured if I talked about this first, it couldn't let me go, would keep feeding me till I got around to the message.»
There came a huge crunch, and the stone he held turned to gravel, falling to mix with that on the trail. «Let me see your hand.»
He brushed it off and held it out. A tiny flame flickered near the base of his index finger. He ran his thumb over it and it went out. I increased my pace, and he matched it.
«Luke, you know what you are?»
«Something in me seems to, but I don't, man. I just feel - I'm not right. I'd probably better tell you what I feel I should pretty quick now.»
«No. Hold off,» I said, hurrying even more.
Something dark passed overhead, too quick for me to make out its shape, vanishing among the trees. We were buffeted by a sudden gust of wind.
«You know what's going on, Merle?» he asked.
«I think so,» I said, «and I want you to do exactly what I tell you, no matter how weird it might seem. Okay?»
«Sure thing. If I can't trust a Lord of Chaos, who can I trust, eh?»
We hurried past the clump of shrubs. My mausoleum was just up ahead.
«You know, there really is something I feel obliged to tell you right now, though,» he said.
«Hold it. Please.»
«It is important, though.»
I ran on ahead of him. He began running, too, to keep up.
«It's about your being here at the Courts, just now.»
I extended my hands, used them to brake myself when I came up against the wall of the stone building. I swung myself through the doorway and inside. Three big steps, and I was kneeling in the corner, snatching up an old cup, using the corner of my cloak to wipe it out.
«Merle, what the hell are you doing?» Luke asked, entering behind me.
«Just a minute and I'll show you,» I told him, drawing my dagger.
Placing the cup upon the stone where I had been seated earlier, I held my hand above it and used the dagger to cut my wrist.
Instead of blood, flame came forth from the incision.
«No! Damn it!» I cried.
And I reached into the spikard, located the proper line, and found the flowing channel of a cooling spell that I laid upon the wound. Immediately, the flames died and it was blood that flowed from me. However, as it fell into the cup it began to smoke. Cursing, I extended the spell to control its liquidity there, also.
«Yeah, it's weird, Merle. I'll give you that,» Luke observed.
I laid the dagger aside and used my right hand to squeeze my arm above the wound. The blood flowed faster. The spikard throbbed. I glanced at Luke. There was a look of strain upon his face. I pumped my fist. The cup was more than half-full.
«You said you trust me,» I stated.
«Afraid so,» he answered.
Three-quarters…
«You've got to drink this, Luke,» I said. «I mean it.»
«Somehow, I suspected you were leading up to this,» he said, «and, really, it doesn't sound like such a bad idea. I've a feeling I need a lot of help just now.»
He reached out and took the cup, raised it to his lips. I pressed the palm of my hand against the wound. Outside, the winds were gusting regularly.
«When you've finished, put it back,» I said. «You're going to need more.»
I could hear the sounds of his swallowing.
«Better than a slug of Jameson,» he said then.
«Don't know why.» He replaced the cup on the stone.
«A little salty, though,» he added.
I removed my hand from the incision, held the wrist above it again, pumped my fist.
«Hey, man. You're losing a lot of blood there. I feel okay now. Was just a little dizzy, that's all. I don't need any more.»
«Yes, you do,» I said. «Believe me. I gave a lot more than this in a blood drive once and ran in a meet the next day. It's okay.»
