SIGN OF CHAOS (20 page)

“Come on, Luke!” I yelled.
 
“Flatten him!”

This produced a very odd effect.
 
Immediately, Dalt’s torchbearers began shouting encouragement to him.
 
Our voices must have carried though the wind’s lulls, for shortly there came waves of sound, which I at first took to be some distant part of the storm and only later realized to be shouting coming from both lines.
 
Only Julian remained silent, inscrutable.

Luke continued to circle Dalt, throwing jabs and trying occasional combinations, and Dalt kept swatting away at them and trying to catch an arm.
 
Both of them had blood on their faces and both seemed a bit slower than they had been earlier.
 
I’d a feeling they’d both been hurt, though it was impossible to guess to what extent.
 
Luke had opened a small cut high on Dalt’s left cheek.
 
Both of their faces were beginning to look puffy.

Luke connected with another body combination, but it was hard to say how much force there was behind the blows.
 
Dalt took them stoically and found extra energy somewhere to rush forward and attempt to grapple.
 
Luke was slow in withdrawing and Dalt managed to draw him into a clinch.
 
Both tried kneeing the other; both turned their hips and avoided it.
 
They kept tangling arms and twisting as Dalt continued reaching after a better grip and Luke kept defeating the efforts while attempting to free an arm wind get in a punch.
 
Both tried several forehead bashes and instep stompings, but all of these were avoided by the other.
 
Finally, Luke succeeded in hooking Dalt’s leg, driving him backward to the ground.

Half kneeling atop him then, Luke caught him with a left cross and followed it immediately with a right.
 
He tried for another left then, and Dalt caught his fist, surged upward and threw him back to the ground.
 
As Dalt hurled himself upon him again, his face a half mask of blood and dirt, Luke was somehow able to strike him beneath the heart, but this did not stop Dalt’s right fist which came down like a falling rock on the side of Luke’s jaw.
 
Dalt followed it with a weak left to the other side, a weak right, paused to suck in a great breath, then landed a solid left.
 
Luke’s head rolled to the side and he did not move.

Dalt crouched there atop him, panting like a dog, studying his face as if suspecting some trick, his right hand twitching as if he were contemplating striking again.

But nothing happened.
 
They remained in that position for ten or fifteen seconds before Dalt slowly drew himself erect, eased off of Luke to Luke’s left, then rose carefully to his feet, swayed for a second and straightened fully.

I could almost taste the death spell I had hung earlier.
 
It would only take a few seconds to nail him, and no one would be certain how he had died.
 
But I wondered what would happen if he were to collapse now, too.
 
Would both sides attack? It was neither this nor humanitarian considerations that finally restrained me, however.
 
Instead, it was Luke’s words, “This really is a matter of honor.
 
So you’ve got to stay out of it,” and, “Nobody’s going to die...
 
We’re too valuable to each other alive.”

Okay.
 
There was still no sound of trumpets.
 
No rush of men to combat.
 
It seemed that things might actually go as had been agreed.
 
This was the way Luke had wanted it.
 
I was not going to interfere.

I watched as Dalt knelt and began to raise Luke from the ground.
 
Immediately, he lowered him, then called to his two torchmen to come and carry him.
 
Dalt rose again and faced Julian as the men advanced.

“I call upon you to observe the rest of our agreement,” he said loudly.

Julian inclined his head slightly.

“We will, provided you do,” he answered.
 
“Have your men out of here by daybreak.”

“We leave now,” Dalt replied, and he began to turn away.

“Dalt!” I called out.

He turned back and regarded me.

“My name is Merlin,” I said.
 
“We’ve met, though I don’t know whether you remember.”

He shook his head.

I raised my right arm and pronounced my most useless and at the same time flashiest spell.
 
The ground erupted before him, showering him with dirt and gravel.
 
He stepped back and wiped his face, then looked down into the rough trench that had appeared.

“That is your grave,” I said, “if Luke’s death comes of this.”

He studied me again.

“Next time I’ll remember you,” he said, and he turned and followed the men who were carrying Luke back to his lines.

I looked over at Julian, who was watching me.
 
He turned away and uprooted his torch.
 
I did the same.
 
I followed him back the way we had come.

Later, in his tent, Julian observed, “That solves one problem.
 
Possibly two.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“It takes care of Dalt for the moment.”

“I guess.”

“Benedict tells me the man is already breaking camp.”

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”

“If that’s the best he can manage for an army these days, it won’t matter.”

“Don’t you get the impression this was an impromptu mission?” I asked.
 
“I’d guess he pulled his force together very fast.
 
It makes me think he had a tight schedule.”

“You may be right there.
 
But he really gambled.”

“And he won.”

“Yes, he did.
 
And you shouldn’t have shown him your power, there at the end:”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have a wary enemy if you ever go after him.”

“He needed warning.”

“A man like that lives with risks.
 
He calculates and he acts.
 
However he figures you, he won’t change his plans at this point.
 
Besides, you haven’t seen the last of Rinaldo either.
 
He’s the same way.
 
Those two understand each other.
 
“

“You may be right.”

“I am.”

“If the fight had gone the other way, do you think his army would have stood for it?” I asked.

Julian shrugged.
 
“He knew mine would if he won, because he knew I stood to gain by it.
 
That was sufficient.”

I nodded.

“Excuse me,” he said.
 
“I have to report this business to Vialle now.
 
I assume you’ll want to trump through when I’ve finished?”

“Yes.”

He produced a card and set about the business.
 
And I found myself wondering, not for the first time, just what it was that Vialle sensed when it came to a Trump contact.
 
I always see the other person myself, and all of the others say that they do, too.
 
But Vialle, as I understood it, had been blind from birth.
 
I’ve always felt it would be impolite to ask her, and for that matter it’s occurred to me that her answer probably wouldn’t make much sense to a sighted person.
 
I’ll probably always wonder, though.

As Julian addressed her shadowy presence, I turned my mind to the future.
 
I was going to have to do something about Mask and Jurt soon, and it looked now as if I’d be doing it without Luke.
 
Did I really want to follow his advice and try to talk Jasra into an alliance against them? Would the benefits really be worth the risk? And if I didn’t, how would I manage the thing? Maybe I should make my way back to that strange bar and see about renting the Jabberwock.
 
Or the Vorpal Sword.
 
Or both; Maybe -

I heard my name mentioned, and I drifted back to the present moment, present problems.
 
Julian was explaining something to Vialle, but I knew there wasn’t all that much to explain.
 
So I got to my feet, stretched, and summoned the Logrus Sight.

I saw her ghostly form clearly when I directed my vision toward the area before Julian: She was in that same stiff chair where I had last seen her.
 
I wondered whether she had remained there the entire while or had just returned.
 
I hoped she’d had a chance to go back and eat that dessert I hadn’t had a shot at.

Julian glanced at me, then, “If you’re ready to go, she’s ready to take you through,” he said.

I crossed over and stood beside him, dropping the Logrus vision as I did so.
 
I had decided it was not a good idea to bring the forces of the Logrus and the Pattern into too great a proximity.
 
I reached out and touched the card, and Vialle’s image sprang into full focus.
 
A moment, and it was no longer an image.

“Anytime,” she said, extending a hand.
 
I reached out and took hold of it gently.

“So long, Julian,” I said, as I stepped forward.

He did not reply.
 
Or if he did, I didn’t catch it.

“I did not mean for things to go this way,” she told me immediately, not releasing my hand.

“There was no way of foreseeing what happened,” I said.

“Luke knew,” she replied.
 
“It makes sense now, doesn’t it? Some of those little remarks he made? He planned the challenge all along.”

“I guess so,” I said.

“He’s gambling on something.
 
I wish I knew what.”

“I can’t help you on that,” I answered.
 
“He didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“But you will be the one with whom he will get in touch, eventually,” she said.
 
“I want to know immediately when you hear from him.”

“All right,” I agreed.

She released my hand.

“It would seem there is nothing more to say, for the moment.“

“Well,” I began, “there is another matter I think you ought to know about.”

“Oh?”

“It concerns Coral’s not being present at dinner this evening.”

“Go on,” she said.

“You are aware that we took a long walk about town today?”

“I am,” she said.

“We wound up below,” I continued, “in the chamber of the Pattern.
 
She’d expressed a desire to see it.”

“Many visitors do.
 
It is pretty much a matter of judgment whether to take them.
 
Often they lose interest, though, when they learn about the stairway.”

“I did tell her about it,” I said, “but it didn’t discourage her.
 
When she got there, she set foot upon the Pattern-“

“No!” she cried.
 
“You should have watched her more closely! All that other trouble with Begma ...
 
and now this! Where is her body?”

“Good question,” I responded.
 
“I don’t know.
 
But she was alive the last time I saw her.
 
You see, she claimed Oberon was her father, and then she proceeded to walk the Pattern.
 
When she’d finished, she had it transport her somewhere.
 
Now, her sister-who is aware that we went off together-is concerned.
 
She was pestering me through dinner as to where Coral might be.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that I’d left her sister enjoying some of the beauties of the palace and that she might be a bit late to dinner.
 
As things wore on, though, she seemed to grow more concerned and made me promise to search for her tonight if she didn’t turn up.
 
I didn’t want to talk about what had really happened because I didn’t want to go into the business of Coral’s parentage.”

“Understandable.” she replied.
 
“Oh, my.”

I waited, but she said nothing more.
 
I continued to wait.

Finally, “I was not aware of the late king’s affair in Begma,” she said, “so it is difficult to assess the impact of this revelation.
 
Did Coral give you any indication as to how long she intended to stay away? And for that matter, did you provide her with any means of return?”

“I gave her my Trump,” I said, “but she hasn’t been in touch.
 
I got the impression she didn’t intend to be away for too long, though.”

“This could be serious,” Vialle decided, “for reasons other than the obvious.
 
How does Nayda strike you?”

“She seemed quite sensible,” I said.
 
“Also, I believe she rather likes me.”