And so, in the midst of all manner of threats, intrigues, menaces, and mysteries, I decided to call a holiday and stroll about town with a pretty lady. Of all possible choices I might have made, it was certainly the most atractive. Whoever the enemy, whatever the power I faced, the ball was now in its court. I had no desire to hunt for Jurt, duel with Mask, or follow Luke about until he came down and told me whether or not he still wanted the family's scalps. Dalt was not my problem, Vinta was me, Ghostwheel was silent, and the matter of my father's Pattern could await my leisure. The sun was shining and the breeze was, gentle, though these could change quickly at this season. It was a shame to waste what could well be the year's last good day on anything less than enjoyment. I hummed as I repaired myself, and I headed downstairs early for our meeting.

Coral had moved more quickly than I'd guessed, however, and was waiting for me. I approved of her sensible dark green breeches, heavy coppery shirt, and warm brown cloak. Her boots looked fine for walking, and she had on a dark hat that covered most of her hair. There were gloves and a dagger at her belt.

“All ready,” she said when she saw me.

“Great,” I replied, smiling, and I led her out into the hallway.

She started to turn in the direction of the main doorway, but I led her off to the right, then later to the left.

“Less conspicuous to use one of the side doors,” I said.

“You people are certainly secretive,” she said.

“Habit,” I replied. “The less that outsiders know of your business the better.”

“What outsiders? What are you afraid of?”

“Just now? A great number of things. But I don't really want to spend a nice day like this making lists.”

She shook her head in what I took to be a mixture of awe and disgust.

“It's true what they say then?” she asked. “That your affairs are so complex you all carry scorecards?”

“Haven't had time for any affairs recently,” I told her, “or even a simple score.” Then, “Sorry,” I added, when I saw her blush. “Life has been a bit complicated for me lately.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing at me, clearly asking for elaboration.

“Some other time,” I said, forcing a laugh, flipping my cloak, and greeting a guard.

She nodded and, diplomatically, changed the subject:

“I guess I came at the wrong time of year to see your famous gardens.”

“Yeah, they've pretty much had it for the season,” I said, “except for Benedict's Japanese garden which

kind of far out back. Perhaps we can go and have a cup of tea there one day, but I thought we'd go into town now.”

“Sounds fine,” she agreed.

I told the postern guard to tell Henden, Amber's steward, that we were heading into town and weren't sure when we'd be back. He said that he would as soon as he got off duty, which would be pretty soon. My experience at Bloody Bill's had taught me the lesson of leaving such messages-not that I thought we were in any danger; or that Llewella's knowing wouldn't be sufficient.

Leaves crunched beneath our feet as we took one of the walks toward a side gate. With only a few strands of cirruis high overhead, the sun shone brightly. To the west, a flock of dark birds flapped its way toward the ocean, south.

“It's already snowed back home,” she told me.

“You're lucky.”

“There's a warm current that gives us a break,” I said, remembering something Gerard had once told me. “It moderates the climate considerably; compared to other places at equal latitude.”

“You travel a lot?” she asked me.

“I've been traveling more than I care to,” I said, “recently. I'd like to sit down and go to seed for about a year.”

“Business or pleasure?” she asked me, as a guard let us out the gate and I quickly surveyed the environs for lurkers.

“Not pleasure,” I answered as I took her elbow for a moment and steered her toward the way I had chosen. When we reached civilized precincts, we followed the Main Concourse for a time. I pointed out a few landmarks and notable residences, including the Begman Embassy. She showed no inclination to visit the latter, though, saying she'd have to see her countrymen officially before she left, anyway. She did stop in a shop we found later, however, to buy a couple of blouses, having the bill sent to the embassy and the garments to the palace.

“My father promised me some shopping,” she explained. “And I know he'll forget. When he hears about this, he'll know that I didn't.”

We explored the streets of the various trades and stopped for a drink at a sidewalk cafe, watching pedestrians and horsemen pass. I had just turned toward her to relate an anecdote concerning one of the riders when I felt the beginning of a Trump contact. Ii waited for several seconds as the feeling grew stronger, but no identity took shape beyond the reaching. I felt Coral's hand upon my arm.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

I reached out with my mind, attempting to assist in the contact, but the other seemed to retreat as I did so. It was not the same as that lurking scrutiny when Mask had regarded me at Flora's place in San Francisco, though. Could it just be someone I knew trying to reach me and having trouble focusing? Injured, perhaps? Or—

“Luke?” I said. “Is that you?”

But there was no response and the feeling began to fade. Finally, it was gone.

“Are you all right?” Coral asked.

“Yeah, it's okay,” I said. “I guess. Someone tried to reach me and then decided otherwise.”

“Reach? Oh, you mean those Trumps you use?”

“Yes.”

“But you said `Luke' ..” she mused. “None of your family is named-''

“You might know him as Rinaldo, Prince of Kashfa,” I said.

She chuckled.

“Rinny? Sure I know him. He didn't like us to call him Rinny, though..”

“You really do know him? Personally, I mean?”

“Yes,” she replied, “though it's been a long time. Kashfa's pretty close to Begma. Sometimes we were on good terms, sometimes not so good. You know how it is. Politics. When I was little there were long spells when we were pretty friendly. There were lots of state visits, both ways. We kids would often get dumped together.”

“What was he like in those days?”

“Oh, a big, gawky, red-haired boy. Liked to show off a lot-how strong he was, how fast he was. I remember how mad he got at me once because I beat him in a footrace.”

“You beat Luke in a race?”

“Yes. I'm a very good runner.”

“You must be.”

“Anyway, he took Nayda and me sailing a few times, and on some long hikes. Where is he now, anyway?” “Drinking with a Cheshire cat.”

“What?, “It's a long story:”

“I'd like to hear it. I've been worried about him since the coup.”

Mm... I thought quickly about how to edit this so as not to tell the daughter of the Begman prime minister any state secrets, such as Luke's relationship to the House of Amber... So, “I've known him for quite some time,” I began. “He recently incurred the wrath of a sorcerer who drugged him and saw him banished to this peculiar bar...”

I went on for a long while then, partly because I had to stop and summarize Lewis Carroll. I also had to promise her the loan of one of the Thari editions of Alice from the Amber library. When I finally finished, she was laughing.

“Why don't you bring him back?” she said then.

Ouch. I couldn't very well say that his shadow-shifting abilities would work against this until he came down. So, “It's part of the spell; it's working on his own sorcerous ability,” I said. “He can't be moved till the drug wears off.

“How interesting;” she observed. “Is Luke really a sorcerer himself?”

“Uh... yes,” I said.

“How did he gain that ability? He showed no signs of it when I knew him.”

“Sorcerers come by their skills in various ways,” I explained. “But you know that,” and I suddenly realized that she was smarter than that smiling, innocent expression indicated. I'd a strong feeling she was trying to steer this toward an acknowledgment of Pattern magic on Luke's part, which of course would say interesting things about his paternity. “And his mother, Jasra, is something of a sorceress herself.”