desired. A toot or two and even you will go down before them. Their kind is the reason there are no wolves left in Ireland. you know.”
“I know,” I said, realizing that I did.
“Yes.” she continued, “Eric will like it that you are my guest. It should cause him to leave you alone, which is what you want, n'est-ce-pas?”
“Oui.” I said.
Eric! It meant something! I had known an Eric, and it had been very important, somehow. that I did. Not recently. But the Eric I had known was still around, and that was important.
Why?
I hated him, that was one reason. Hated him enough to have contemplated killing him. Perhaps I'd even tried.
Also, there was some bond between us, I knew.
Kinship?
Yes, that was it. Neither of us liked it being brothers... I remembered, I remembered...
Big, powerful Eric, with his wet curly beard, and his eyes—just like Evelyn's!
I was racked with a new surge of memory, as my temples began to throb and the back of my neck was suddenly warm.
I didn't let any of it show on my face, but forced myself to take another drag on my cigarette, another sip of beer, as I realized that Evelyn was indeed my sister! Only Evelyn wasn't her name. I couldn't think of what it was, but it wasn't Evelyn. I'd be careful, I resolved. I'd not use any name at all when addressing her, until I remembered.
And what of me? And what was it that was going on around me?
Eric, I suddenly felt, had had some connection with my accident. It should have been a fatal one, only I'd pulled through. He was the one, wasn't he? Yes, my feelings replied. It had to be Eric. And Evelyn was working with him, paying Greenwood to keep me in a coma. Better than being dead, but...
I realized that I had just somehow delivered myself into Eric's hands by coming to Evelyn, and I would be his prisoner, would be open to new attack, if I stayed.
But she had suggested that my being her guest would cause him to leave me alone. I wondered. I couldn't take anything at face value. I'd have to be constantly on my guard. Perhaps it would be better if I just went away, let my memories return gradually.
But there was this terrible sense of urgency. I had to find out the full story as soon as possible and act as soon as I knew it. It lay like a compulsion upon me. If danger was the price of memory and risk the cost of opportunity, then so be it. I'd stay.
“And I remember,” Evelyn said, and I realized that she had been talking for a while and I hadn't even been listening. Perhaps it was because of the reflective quality of her words, not really requiring any sort of respouse— and because of the urgency of my thoughts.
“And I remember the day you beat Julian at his favorite game and he threw a glass of wine at you and cursed you. But you took the prize. And he was suddenly afraid he had gone too far. But you laughed then, though, and drank a glass with him. I think he felt badly over that show of temper, normally being so cool, and I think he was envious of you that day. Do you recall? I think he has, to a certain extent, imitated many of your ways since then. But I still hate him and hope that he goes down shortly. I feel he will...”
Julian, Julian, Julian. Yes and no. Something about a game and my baiting a man and shattering an almost legendary self-control. Yes, there was a feeling of familiarity; and no, I couldn't really say for certain what all had been involved.
“And Caine, how you gulled him! He hates you yet, you know...”
I gathered I wasn't very well liked. Somehow, the feeling pleased me.
And Caine, too, sounded familiar. Very.
Eric, Julian, Caine, Corwin. The names swam around in my head, and in a way, it was too much to hold within me.
“It's been so long...” I said, almost involuntarily, and it seemed to be true.
“Corwin,” she said, “let's not fence. You want more than security, I know that. And you're still strong enough to get something out of this, if you play your hand just right. I can't guess what you have in mind, but maybe we can make a deal with Eric.” The we had obviously shifted. She had come to some sort of conclusion as to my worth in whatever was going on. She saw a chance to gain something for herself, I could tell. I smiled, just a little. “Is that why you came here?” she continued. “Do you have a proposal for Eric, something which might require a go-between?”
“I may,” I replied, “after I've thought about it some more. I've still so recently recovered that I have much pondering to do. I wanted to be in the best place, though, where I could act quickly, if I decided my best interests lay with Eric.”
“Take care,” she said. “You know I'll report every word.”
“Of course,” I said, not knowing that at all and groping for a quick hedge, “unless your best interests were conjoined with my own.”
Her eyebrows moved closer together, and tiny wrinkles appeared between them.
“I'm not sure what you're proposing.”
“I'm not proposing anything, yet,” I said. “I'm just being completely open and honest with you and telling you I don't know. I'm not positive I want to make a deal with Eric. After all...” I let the words trail off on purpose, for I had nothing to follow them with, though I felt I should.
“You've been offered an alternative?” She stood up suddenly, seizing her whistle. “Bleys! Of course!”
“Sit down,” I said, “and don't he ridiculous. Would I place myself in your hands this calmly, this readily, just to be dog meat because you happen to think of Bleys?”
She relaxed, maybe even sagged a little, then reseated herself.
“Possibly not,” she finally said, “but I know you're a gambler, and I know you're treacherous. If you came here to dispose of a partisan, don't even bother trying. I'm not that important. You should know that by now. Besides, I always thought you rather liked me.”
“I did, and I do,” I said, “and you have nothing to worry about, so don't. It's interesting, though, that you should mention Bleys.”
Bait, bait, bait! There was so much I wanted to know!
“Why? Has he approached you?”
“I'd rather not say,” I replied, hoping it would give me an edge of some kind, and now that I knew Bleys' gender: “If he had, I'd have answered him the same as I would Eric-'I'll think about it. '“
“Bleys,” she repeated, and Bleys, I said to myself inside my head, Bleys. I like you. I forget why, and I know there are reasons why I shouldn't-but I like you. I know it.
We sat awhile, and I felt fatigue but didn't want to show it. I should be strong. I knew I had to be strong.
I sat there and smiled and said, “Nice library you've got here,” and she said, “Thank you.”
“Bleys,” she repeated after a time. “Do you really think he has a chance?”
I shrugged.
“Who knows? Not I, for certain. Maybe he does. Maybe not, too.”
Then she stared at me, her eyes slightly wide, and her mouth opening.
“Not you?” she said, “You're not proposing to try yourself, are you?”
I laughed then, solely for purposes of countering her emotion.
“Don't he silly,” I said when I'd finished. “Me?”
But as she said it, I knew she'd struck some chord, some deep-buried thing which replied with a powerful “Why not?”
I was suddenly afraid.
She seemed relieved, though, at my disavowal of whatever it was I was disavowing. She smiled then, and indicated a built-in bar off to my left.
“I'd like a little Irish Mist,” she said.
“So would I, for that matter,” I replied, and I rose and fetched two.
