“Should we all be digging in?” I asked: “Fortifying the town? Arming ourselves? Raising—”

“It won't come to that,” he said. “Just go on about your business.”

“But—”

He turned away. I'd a feeling the conversation was over. I was sure of it when he ignored my next several questions. I shrugged and turned back to Bill.

“Let's go eat,” I said.

As we walked back up the hall, Bill said softly, “Any;:: idea what it means?”

“Dalt's in the neighborhood,” I told him.

“Benedict was in Begma with Random. Dalt could be causing trouble there.”

“I've a feeling he's nearer.”

“If Dalt were to capture Random...”

“Impossible,” I said, feeling a slight chill at the idea.

“Random can trump back here anytime he wants. No. When I talked about defending Amber, and Benedict said, `It won't come to that,' I got the impression he was talking about something close at hand. Something he feels he can control.”

“I see what you mean,” he agreed. “But then he told you not to bother fortifying.”

“If Benedict feels we don't need to fortify, then we don't need to fortify.”

“Waltz and drink champagne while the cannons boom?”

“If Benedict says it's okay.”

“You really trust that guy. What would you do without him?”

“Be more nervous,” I said.

He shook his head. “Excuse me,” he said. “I'm not used to being acquainted with legends.”

“You don't believe me?”

“I shouldn't believe you, but I do believe you. That's the trouble.” He was silent as we turned the corner and headed back toward the stair. Then he added, “It was that way whenever I was around your father, too.”

“Bill,” I said, as we began to climb. “You knew my dad back before he regained his memory, when he was just plain old Carl Corey. Maybe I've been going about this thing wrong. Is there anything you can recall about that phase of his life which might explain where he is now?”

He halted a moment and looked at me.

“Don't think I haven't thought about that angle, Merle. Many a time I've wondered whether he might have been involved in something as Corey that he'd have felt obliged to follow through on once his business here was finished. But he was a very secretive man, even in that incarnation. Paradoxical, too. He'd done a lot of hitches in a lot of different varieties of military, which seems logical

enough. But he sometimes wrote music, which goes against that hard-ass image.”

“He'd lived a long time. He'd learned a lot, felt lot.”

“Exactly, and that's what makes it hard to guess why he might have been involved in. Once or twice when he'd; had a few drinks he'd mention people in the arts an sciences I'd never have guessed him to be acquainted with. He was never just plain Carl Corey. He had a few centuries worth of Earth memory when I knew him. That makes for a character too complex to be easily predictable. I just don't know what he might have gone back to-if he went back.”

We continued on up the stairway. Why did I feel that Bill knew more than he was telling me?

I heard music as we neared the dining room, and when we entered, Llewella gave me a nasty look. I saw that food was being kept warm at a serving table off against the far wall, and no one was seated yet. People stood about talking, drinks in hand, and most of them glanced in our direction as we entered. Three musicians were playing, off to my right. The dining table was to my left, near the big window in the south wall, providing a glorious view across the town below. It was still snowing lightly, casting a spectral veil over the entire bright prospect.

Llewella approached quickly.

“You've kept everybody waiting,” she whispered. “Where's the girl?”

“Coral?”

“Who else?”

“I'm not sure where she's gotten off to,” I said. “We parted company a couple of hours ago.”

“Well, is she coming or isn't she?”

“I'm not sure.”

“We can't keep things waiting any longer,” she said. “And now the seating arrangement's screwed. What did you do, wear her out?”

“Llewella...”

She muttered something I didn't understand in some lisping Rebman dialect. Just as well, probably. She fumed away then and moved off toward Vialle.

“You in a heap of trouble, boy,” Bill commented at my side. “Let's hit the bar while she's reassigning places.”

But the wine steward was already approaching with a couple of drinks on a tray.

“Bayle's Best,” he observed as we took them.

I sipped and saw that he was right, which heartened me a bit.

“I don't recognize all of these people,” Bill said. “Who's that fellow with the red sash, over by Vialle?”

“That's Orkuz, the Begman prime minister,” I told him, “and the rather attractive lady in the yellow-and-red dress who's talking to Martin is his daughter Nayda. Coral-the one I just got chewed out about-is her sister.”

“Uh-huh. And who's the husky blond lady batting her eyes at Gerard?”

“I don't know,” I said. “And I don't know that lady and the guy over to the right of Orkuz either.”

We drifted inward, and Gerard, looking perhaps a trifle uncomfortable in layers of ruffled finery, introduced us to the lady he was with as Dretha Gannell, assistant to the Begman ambassador. The ambassador, it turned out, was the tall lady standing near Orkuz-and her name, I gathered, was Ferla Quist. The fellow with her was her secretary, whose name sounded something like Cade. While we were looking in that direction, Gerard tried slipping off and leaving us with Ferla. But she caught his sleeve and asked him something about the fleet. I smiled and nodded and moved away. Bill came along.

“Goodness! Martin's changed!” he announced suddenly. “He Looks like a one-man rock video. I almost didn't recognize him. Just last week—”

“It's been over a year,” I said, “for him. He's been off finding himself on some street scene.”

“I wonder if he's finished?”

“Didn't get a chance to ask him that;” I replied, but a peculiar thought occurred to me. I shelved it.

The music died just then, and Llewella cleared the throat and indicated Hendon, who announced the new seating arrangement. I was at the foot of the table, and -I learned later that Coral was to have been seated to my left and Cade to my right. I also learned later that Llewella had tried to get hold of Flora at the last minute to sit in Coral's place, but Flora wasn't taking any calls.

As it was, Vialle, at the head, had Llewella seated to her right and Orkuz to her left, with Gerard, Dretha, and Bill below Llewella, and Ferla, Martin, Cade, and Nayda below Orkuz. I found myself escorting Nayda to the table and seating her to my right, while Bill settled himself at my left.

“Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Bill muttered softly, and I nodded; then introduced him to Nayda as counsel to the House of Amber. She looked impressed and asked him about his work. He proceeded to charm her with a story about once having represented the interests of a dog in an estate, settlement, which had nothing to do with Amber but was a good story. Got her to laughing a bit, and also Cade, who was listening in.

The first course was served and the musicians began playing again, softly, which shortened the distance our voices carried and reduced conversation to a more intimate level. At this, Bill signaled he had something he wanted to tell me, but Nayda had beaten him by a second or two and I was already listening to her.

“About Coral,” she said softly. “Are you sure she's all right? She wasn't feeling ill when you parted-of anything like that-was she?”

“No,” I answered. “She seemed healthy enough.”

“Strange,” she said. “I had the impression she wad looking forward to things like this dinner.”

“She's obviously taking longer than she'd intended in whatever she's about,” I observed.

“What exactly was she about?” Nayda asked. “Where did you part?”