“None of this discussion, this speculation, would be necessary,” Corwin said, “if we had all of the facts right now. And there may be a way to get them—right now. That is why you are here.” That did it. I had them. Attentive. Ready. Maybe even willing.
“I propose we attempt to reach Brand and bring him home,” Corwin said, “now.”
“How?” Benedict asked.
“The Trumps.”
“It has been tried,” said Julian. “He cannot be reached that way. No response.”
“I was not referring to the ordinary usage.” Corwin said. “I asked you all to bring full sets of Trumps with you. I trust that you have them?”
There were nods.
“Good,” Corwin said. “Let us shuffle out Brand’s Trump now. I propose that all nine of us attempt to contact him simultaneously.”
“An interesting thought,” Benedict said.
“Yes,” Julian agreed, producing his deck and riffling through it. “Worth trying, at least. It may generate additional power. I do not really know.”
Corwin located Brand’s Trump. He waited until all the others had found it. Then, “Let us coordinate things,” Corwin said. “Is everyone ready?”
Eight accents were spoken.
A sort of cheer had gone up as we rushed to touch him, to see him, our brother who had been gone these many years and just now snatched back from his mysterious captors. And at last, hopefully, finally, some answers might also been liberated. Only he looked so weak, so thin, so pale…
“Get back!” Gérard shouted. “I’m taking him to the couch! Then you can look all you—”
Dead silence. For everyone had backed off, and then turned to stone. This was because there was blood on Brand, and it was dripping. And this was because there was a knife in his left side, to the rear. It had not been there moments before. Some one of us had just tried for his kidney and possibly succeeded. I was not heartened by the fact that the Random-Corwin Conjecture that it was One Of Us Behind It All had just received a significant boost.
