He appraised me for a moment, then said, “I only recently realized that I, too, am a son of Amber. We've met, and we've seen that we're too much like each other. Okay. That's good. It means we can do business, right?”

I allowed myself to frown. I wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

He clasped my shoulder lightly.

“Don't worry,” he said. “You can trust me. Not that you have a great deal of choice at this point. But you may a a bit later. I want you to remember then that, whatever happens, you must not interfere.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“We haven't the time or the privacy to speculate,” he said. “So let it go, and remember everything I said this evening.”

“As you said, I haven't much choice at this point.”

“I want you to remember it later,” he said, as Julian lowered the flap and turned toward us.

“I'll take you up on that meal,” Luke called to him. “How about you, Merle? Hungry?”

“Lord, no!” I replied. “I just sat through a state dinner.”

“Oh?” he inquired almost too casually. “What was the; ocasion?”

I began to laugh. It was too much for one day. I was about to tell him that we hadn't the time or the rivacy. But Julian had just reopened the tent flap and was calling for an orderly, and I wanted to throw a few curve balls through Luke's broken field just to see what they did to his composure.

“Oh, it was for the Begman prime minister, Orkuz, and some of his staff,” I explained.

He waited while I pretended to take a long drink of wine. Then I lowered it and said, “That's all.”

“Come on, Merlin. What's it about? I've been relatively square with you recently.”

“Oh?” I said.

For a minute I didn't think he'd see the humor in it; but then he began to laugh, too.

“Sometimes the mills of the gods grind too damned fast and we get buried in grist,” he observed. “Look, how about giving me this one for free. I don't have anything brief to trade right now. What's he want?”

“You'll bear in mind that this is classified until tomorrow?”

“Okay. What happens tomorrow?”

“Arkans, Duke of Shadburne, gets crowned in Kashfa.”

“Holy shit!” Luke said. He glanced at Julian, then back at me. “That was a damned clever choice on Random's part,” he said after a time. “I didn't think he'd move this fast.”

He stared off into some vanishing point for a long while. Then he said, “Thanks.”

“Well, does it help or hurt?” I asked.

“Me, or Kashfa?” he said.

“I hadn't split it down that fine.”

“That's okay, because I'm not sure how to take this. I need to do some thinking. Get the big picture.”

I stared at him and he smiled again.

“It is interesting,” he added. “You got anything else for me?”

“That's enough,” I said.

“Yeah, probably you're right,” he agreed. “Don't want to overload the systems. Think we're losing touch with the simple things, old buddy?”

“Not so long as we know each other,” I said.

Julian dropped the flap, returned to us, and sought his wine cup.

“Your food will be along in a few minutes,” he told Luke.

“Thanks.”

“According to Benedict,” he said, “you told Random that Dalt is a son of Oberon.”

“I did,” Luke acknowledged. “One who's walked the Pattern, at that. Does it make a difference?”

Julian shrugged.

“Won't be the first time I've wanted to kill a relative,” he stated. “By the way, you're my nephew, aren't you?”

“Right... uncle.”

Julian swirled the contents of his cup again.

“Well, welcome to Amber,” he said. “I heard a banshee last night. I wonder if there's any connection?”

“Change,” Luke said. “They mean things are changing and they wail for . what's being lost.”

“Death. They mean death, don't they?”

“Not always. Sometimes they just show up at turning points for dramatic effect.”

“Too bad,” Julian said. “But one can always hope.”

I thought Luke was going to say something else, but Julian began again before he could.

“How well did you know your father?” he asked.

Luke stiffened slightly, but answered, “Maybe not well as most. I don't know. He was like a salesman. Always coming and going. Didn't usually stay with us long.”

Julian nodded.

“What was he like, near the end?” he inguired.

Luke studied his hands.

“Well, he wasn't exactly normal, if that's what you mean,” he finally said. “Like I was telling Merlin earlier, I think the process he undertook to gain his powers might have unbalanced him some.”

“I never heard that story.”

Luke shrugged.

“The details aren't all that important just the results.”

“You're saying he wasn't a bad father before that?”

“Hell, I don't know. I never had another father to a compare him to. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity. It's a part of his life I knew nothing about.”

“Well, what kind of brother was he?”

“Wild,” Julian said. “We didn't get along all that well. So we pretty much stayed out of each other's ways. He was smart, though. Talented, too. Had a flare for the arts. I was just trying to figure how much you might take after him.”

Luke turned his hands palms upward. “Beats me,” he said.

“Well, no matter,” Julian replied, setting down his cup and turning toward the front of the tent again. “I believe your food is about to arrive.”

He moved off in that direction. I could hear the tiny crystals of ice rattling against the canvas overhead, and a few growls from outside: concerto for wind and hellhound. No banshees, though. Not yet.

I walked a pace or so behind Luke, a couple of yards off to his left, trying to keep even with Julian, who was over to the right. The torch I bore was a big thing, about six tapering feet of pitchy wood, sharpened at its terminus to make it easy to drive into the ground. I held it at arm's distance, because the oily flames licked and lashed in all directions in accord with vagaries of the wind. Sharp, icy flakes fell upon my cheek, my forehead, my hands, with a few catching in my eyebrows and lashes. I blinked vigorously as the heat of the torch melted them and they ran into my eyes. The grasses beneath my feet were sufficiently cold to give a brittle, crunching sensation every time I took a step. Directly ahead I could see the slow advance of two other torches toward us, and the shadowy figure of a man who walked between them. I blinked and waited for the flow from one or the other of his torches to give me a better look. I'd only seen him once, very briefly, via Trump, back at Arbor House. His hair looked golden, or even coppery, by what light there was upon it, but I remembered it as a kind of dirty blond by natural light. His eyes, I recalled, were green, though there was no way I could see that now. I did begin to realize for the first time, however, that he was pretty big-either that or he had chosen fairly short torchbearers. He had been alone that one time I'd seen him, and I had had no standard for comparison. As the light from our torches reached him I saw that he had on a heavy, green sleeveless doublet without a collar, over something black and also heavy, with sleeves that extended down his arms to vanish within green gauntlets. His trousers were black, as were the high boots they entered; his cloak was black and lined with an emerald green that caught our light as the cloak furled about him in shifting, oily landscapes of yellow and red. He wore a heavy circular medallion, which looked to be gold, on a chain about his neck; and though I could not make out the details of its device, I was certain that it bore a Lion rending a Unicorn. He came to a halt about ten or twelve paces from Luke, who stopped an instant later. Dalt gestured, and his retainers drove the butts of their torches into the ground. Julian and I immediately did the same, and we remained near them, as Dalt's men were doing. Then Dalt nodded to Luke, and they both advanced again, meeting at the center of the box formed by the lights, clasping right forearms, staring into each other's eyes. Luke's back was to me, but I could see Dalt's face. He showed no signs of emotion, but his lips were already moving. I couldn't hear a word that was being said, between the wind and the fact that they seemed intentionally to be keeping it low. At least, I finally had a point of reference for Dalt's size. Luke is about six three, and I could see that Dalt was several inches taller. I glanced at Julian, but he was not looking my way. I wondered how many eyes regarded us from both sides of the field.