The Guns of Avalon (13 page)

I tried to ignore her cry, for I was almost to the top. It came again, but I tensed myself and prepared to spring upward. If it did not stop for me, I was going to try gimmicking the damned thing, even though falling off would mean my total ruin. I readied myself for the leap. Another click. .. “Corwin!”

It receded, returned, faded, and I was looking toward the water wheel again with my name echoing in my ears and mingling, merging, fading into the sound of the stream.

I blinked my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair. A number of dandelions fell about my shoulders as I did so, and I heard a giggle from somewhere behind me.

I turned quickly and stared.

She stood about a dozen paces from me, a tail, slender girl with dark eyes and close-cropped brown hair. She wore a fencing jacket and held a rapier in her right hand, a mask in her left. She was looking at me and laughing. Her teeth were white, even and a trifle long; a band of freckles crossed her small nose and the upper portions of her well-tanned cheeks. There was that air of vitality about her which is attractive in ways different from mere comeliness. Especially, perhaps, when viewed from the vantage of many years. She saluted me with her blade. “En garde, Corwin!” she said.

“Who the Devil are you?” I asked, just then noticing a jacket, mask, and rapier beside me in the grass.

“No questions, no answers,” she said. “Not till we’ve fenced.”

She fitted her mask over her head then and waited.

I rose and picked up the jacket. I could see that it would be easier to fence than argue with her. The fact that she knew my name disturbed me, and the more that I thought of it the more she seemed somehow familiar. It was best to humor her, I decided, shrugging into the jacket and buckling it. I picked up the blade, pulled on the mask.

“All right,” I said, sketching a brief salute and advancing. “All right.”

She moved forward then and we met. I let her carry the attack.

She came on very fast with a beat-feint-feint-thrust. My riposte was twice as fast, but she was able to parry it and come back with equal speed. I began a slow retreat then, drawing her out. She laughed and came on, pressing me hard. She was good and she knew it. She wanted to show off. She almost got through twice, too, in the same way-low-line-which I did not like at all. I caught her with a stop-thrust as soon as I could after that. She cursed softly, goodnaturedly, as she acknowledged it and came right back at me. I do not ordinarily like to fence with women, no matter how good they are, but this time I discovered that I was enjoying myself. The skill and grace with which she carried the attacks and bore them gave me pleasure to behold and respond to, and I found myself contemplating the mind that lay behind that style. At first, I had wanted to tire her quickly, to conclude the match and question her. Now I found myself desiring to prolong the encounter.

She did not tire readily. There was small cause for concern on that count. I lost track of time as we stamped back and forth along the bank of the stream, our blades clicking steadily.

A long while must have passed, though, before she stamped her heel and threw up her blade in a final salute. She tore off her mask then and gave me another smile.

“Thank you!” she said, breathing heavily.

I returned the salute and drew off the bird cage. I tamed and fumbled with the jacket buckles, and before I realized it she had approached and kissed me on the cheek. She had not had to stand tiptoe to do it either. I felt momentarily confused, but I smiled. Before I could say anything, she had taken my arm and turned me back in the direction from which we had come.

“I’ve brought us a picnic basket,” she said.

“Very good. I am hungry. I am also curious . . .”

“I will tell you anything that you want to hear,” she said merrily.

“How about telling me your name?” I said.

“Dara,” she replied. “My name is Dara, after my grandmother.”

She glanced at me as she said it, as though hoping for a reaction. I almost hated to disappoint her, but I nodded and repeated it, then, “Why did you call me Corwin?” I asked.

“Because that is your name,” she said. “I recognized you.”

“From where?” She released my arm.

“Here it is,” she said, reaching behind a tree and raising a basket that had been resting upon the ridges of exposed roots.

“I hope the ants didn’t get to it,” she said, moving to a shaded area beside the stream and spreading a cloth upon the ground.

I hung the fencing gear on a nearby shrub.

“You seem to carry quite a few things around with you,” I observed.

“My horse is back that way,” she said, gesturing downstream with her head.

She returned her attention to weighing down the cloth and unpacking the basket.

“Why way back there?” I asked.

“So that I could sneak up on you, of course. If you’d heard a horse clomping around you’d have been awake sure as hell.”

“You’re probably right,” I said.

She paused as though pondering deeply, then spoiled it with a giggle.

“But you didn’t the first time, though. Still. . .”

“The first time?” I said, seeing she wanted me to ask it.

“Yes, I almost rode over you awhile back,” she said. “You were sound asleep. When I saw who it was, I went back for a picnic basket and the fencing gear.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Come and sit down now,” she said. “And open the bottle, will you?”

She put a bottle beside my place and carefully unwrapped two crystal goblets, which she then set in the center of the cloth.

I moved to my place and sat down.

“That is Benedict’s best crystal,” I noted, as I opened the bottle.

“Yes,” she said. “Do be careful not to upset them when you pour-and I don’t think we should clink them together.”

“No, I don’t think we should,” I said, and I poured. She raised her glass.

“To the reunion,” she said.

“What reunion?”

“Ours.” “I have never met you before.”

“Don’t be so prosaic,” she said, and took a drink.

I shrugged. “To the reunion.”

She began to eat then, so I did too. She was so enjoying the air of mystery she had created that I wanted to cooperate, just to keep her happy.

“Now where could I have met you?” I ventured. “Was it some great court? A harem, perhaps . . . ?”

“Perhaps it was in Amber,” she said. “There you were . . .” ,

“Amber?” I said, remembering that I was holding Benedict’s crystal and confining my emotions to my voice. “Just who are you, anyway?”

“. . . There you were-handsome, conceited, admired by all the ladies,” she continued, “and there I was- a mousy little thing, admiring you from afar. Gray, or pastel-not vivid-little Dara-a late bloomer, I hasten to add-eating her heart out for you-“ I muttered a mild obscenity and she laughed again. “That wasn’t it?” she asked.

“No,” I said, taking another bite of beef and bread. “More likely it was that brothel where I sprained my back. I was drunk that night-“

“You remember!” she cried. “It was a part-time job. I used to break horses during the day.”

“I give up,” I said, and I poured more wine.

The really irritating thing was that there was something damnably familiar about her. But from her appearance and her behavior, I guessed her age at about seventeen. This pretty much precluded our paths ever having crossed.

“Did Benedict teach you your fencing?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What is he to you?”

“My lover, of course,” she replied. “He keeps me in jewels and furs-and he fences with me.” She laughed again.

I continued to study her face. Yes, it was possible. . .. “I am hurt,” I said, finally.

“Why?” she asked.

“Benedict didn’t give me a cigar.”

“Cigar?”

“You are his daughter, aren’t you?”

She reddened, but she shook her head. “No,” she said. “But you are getting close.”

“Granddaughter?” I said. “Well... sort of.”

“I am afraid that I do not understand.”

“Grandfather is what he likes me to call him. Actually, though, he was my grandmother’s father.”

“I see. Are there any others at home like you?”

“No, I am the only one.”

“What of your mother-and your grandmother?”

“Dead, both of them.”

“How did they die?”

“Violently. Both times it happened while he was back in Amber. I believe that is why he has not returned there for a long while now. He does not like to leave me unprotected-even though he knows that I can take care of myself. You know that I can, too, don’t you?”

I nodded. It explained several things, one of them being why he was Protector here. He had to keep her somewhere, and he certainly would not want to take her back to Amber. He would not even want her existence known to the rest of us. She could be made into an easy armlock. And it would be out of keeping to make me aware of her so readily.

So, “I do not believe that you are supposed to be here,” I said, “and I feel that Benedict would be quite angry if he knew that you were.”

“You are just the same as he isl I am an adult, damn it!”

“Have you heard me deny it? You are supposed to be someplace else, though, aren’t you?”

She filled her mouth instead of answering. So I did, too. After several uncomfortable minutes of chewing, I decided to start on a fresh subject. “How did you recognize me?” I asked. She swallowed, took a drink of wine, grinned. “From your picture, of course,” she said.

“What picture?”

“On the card,” she said. “We used to play with them when I was very small. I learned all my relatives that way. You and Eric are the other good swordsmen, I knew that. That is why I-“

“You have a set of the Trumps?” I interrupted.

“No,” she said, pouting. “He wouldn’t give me a set -and I know he has several, too.”

“Really? Where does he keep them?”

She narrowed her eyes, focusing them on my own. Damn! I hadn’t meant to sound that eager.

But, “He has a set with him most of the time,” she said, “and I have no idea where he keeps the others. Why? Won’t he let you see them?”

“I haven’t asked him,” I told her. “Do you understand their significance?”

“There were certain things I was not allowed to do when I was near them. I gather that they have a special use, but he never told me what it is. They are quite important, aren’t they?”
    

“Yes.”

“I thought so. He is always so careful with them. Do you have a set?”

“Yes, but it’s out on loan just now.”

“I see. And you would like to use them for something complicated and sinister.”

I shrugged.

“I would like to use them, but for very dull, uncomplicated purposes.”

“Such as?” I shook my head.

“If Benedict does not want you to know their function yet, I am not about to tell you.”

She made a small growling noise.

“You’re afraid of him,” she said.

“I have considerable respect for Benedict, not to mention some affection.” She laughed.

“Is he a better fighter than you, a better swordsman?”

I looked away. She must have just gotten back from someplace fairly removed from things. The townspeople I’d met had all known about Benedict’s arm. It was not the sort of news that traveled slowly. I certainly was not going to be the first to tell her.

“Have it as you would,” I said. “Where have you been?”

“The village,” she said, “in the mountains. Grandpa took me there to stay with some friends of his called Tecys. Do you know the Tecys?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’ve been there before,” she said. “He always takes me to stay with them in the village when there is any sort of trouble here. The place has no name. I just call it the village. It is quite strange-the people, as well as the village. They seem to-sort of-worship us. They treat me as if I were something holy, and they never tell me anything I want to know. It is not a long ride, but the mountains are different, the sky is different -everything!-and it is as if there were no way back, once I am there. I had tried coming back on my own before, but I just got lost. Grandpa always had to come for me, and then the way was easy. The Tecys follow all of his instructions concerning me. They treat him as if he were some sort of god.”

“He is,” I said, “to them.”

“You said that you do not know them.”

“I don’t have to. I know Benedict.”

“How does he do it? Tell me.” I shook my head.

“How did you do it?” I asked her. “How did you get back here this time?”

She finished her wine and held out the glass. When I looked up from refilling it, her head was cocked toward her right shoulder, her brows were furrowed, and her eyes were focused on something far away.

“I do not really know,” she said, raising the glass and sipping from it automatically, “l am not quite certain how I went about it. . . .”