Sign of chaos

«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.

CHAPTER 9