Roger Zelazny: Roadmarks

"Well—some," he said. "But it still leaves other gaps. Tell me, Leila, has Leaves stated the situation adequately?"

"Pretty much so," she said. "I don't feel like quibbling, so let's let it stand. I saw you coming, that's true."

"It still doesn't tell me who you are and where you come from and why you are so interested in Red's safety."

"We have been many things to one another, but mainly he is an old and special friend," she said, "and we are alike in many ways. There are so many debts between us that I've lost track of how they balance out. Also, the son of a bitch ran out on me when I told him to wait around."

"Something you didn't foresee?"

She shook her head.

"Nobody's perfect; Leaves just told you that. What's Reyd to you, by the way?"

"I believe he is my father.

She stared, her face immobile for the first time since they had met. Then she bit her lip.

"How blind of me," she finally said. "Of course...

Where were you born?"

"C Twenty, Cleveland, Ohio."

"So that's where he went..." She looked away. "Interesting. I foresee our lunch. Now."

Their waiter entered the room, carrying a tray.

"What was wrong with that guy I was with—Toba?" Randy asked as they began eating.

"He is someone connected with the dark birds," Leila said between mouthfuls.

"What dark birds? This is the second time you've mentioned them."

"Reyd is the subject of a black decade. I see his would-be assassins that way."

"Black decade?" said Leaves. "What's he done?"

"Made an enemy he shouldn't have, apparently. He thinks it's Chadwick."

"Oh, my! Chadwick can be very nasty."

"So can Reyd, you know. Or do you?"

"I have often suspected this, though—"

"Someone's out to get him?" Randy broke in.

"Yes," said Leila, "someone who can afford the very best. There will be a lot of bookmaking on this one, up and down the line. I wonder what odds they'll be giving? It might be worth putting some money on one side or the other."

"You'd bet against him?"

"It depends on the odds, the circumstances—quite a few things. Oh, I'm going to try to help him, all right, but I hate to miss out on a good thing too." "Doesn't your talent give you an unusual advantage in betting situations?"

"You bet, and I love money. Too bad we don't have

time to pursue the second one now. I'd go for Reyd now that he's been warned."

"This is probably my father you're talking about."

"I've known him a long while. He'd be betting if it were me. Make a bundle too."

Randy shook his head and addressed his attention to his food.

"You're strange people," he said after a time. "Just a little more open than most, maybe. Look I wouldn't have spent three whole days getting back into shape for just anybody. I'm on his side all the way. Waiter! Bring me a box of cigars—the good ones."

"About this black decade thing..." Randy said. "How do we get him out of it?"

"See him through the encounters, I guess. Then the game's over."

"What's to stop this Chadwick guy from continuing the game then, or starting it all over again?"

"The rules. Everyone plays it by the rules. If he didn't, he'd be barred by the Games Board from ever getting another permit and playing again. He'd stand to lose a lot of prestige."

"And you think that would be enough to restrain

him?"

"Hell, no!" Leaves broke in. "The Board is a C

Twenty-five thing with no teeth. Just a bunch of dod

dering sadists who legalized it in their period so they

could watch the progress of the vendettas which always occurred along the Road. If Chadwick can't get Red one way, he'll do it another. All this talk about it as a game is silly!" "Is that true, Leila?" "Well, yes—though she left out the fact that without the Board, the betting situation would be very disorganized. That's important to the structure of the thing, too. I felt you needed background information. That's why I gave it to you." "But you think Chadwick will cheat?"

"Probably."

"Then what are we to do about helping Red get through this thing?"

"Oh, we'll help him to cheat too, of course. Just how, I don't know yet. We will have to catch up with him first. Finish eating so we can get moving."

When she had left to get her duffle bag. Randy asked Leaves, "How well did you know her? How far can we trust her?"

"I know that Red trusted her. There is some strong bond between them. I think we should trust her too."

"Good," Randy said, "because I want to. I wonder what we're getting into, though."

When Leila returned some minutes later, her duffle bag on her shoulder, cigar clenched between her teeth, she smiled, nodded and gestured with her head toward the door.

"I am all settled up and checked out," she said. "Have a cigar and let's roll."

Randy nodded, collected Leaves and followed her, unwrapping the stogie she had thrust upon him.

One

"Flowers?"

"Yes, Red?"

"Good driving. Thanks."

"Is that all?"

"No. How'd you know?"

"You never just compliment anybody, or thank them. It is always an afterthought or a preliminary."

"Really? I never noticed that. I guess you're right Okay. Are you getting tired of being what you are? Would you like to move on into a new avatar, become part of a more complex computer setup? Or perhaps go the organic route and be the matrix of awareness in a body?"

"I have thought of it—yes."

"I'd like to reward you, for faithful service and all that. So decide what you want and pull in at the next service center. I will leave you there for pickup and delivery to the proper institution, with authorization for everything to be billed to my account."

"Wait a minute. You always were a tightwad. This isn't at all like you. What is the matter? I thought I knew everything you know. What did I miss?"

"You're more suspicious than half a dozen wives. I made you a bona fide offer—"

"Come off it! Why do you want to get rid of me?"

"1-" "I probably know you better than half a dozen wives.

So forget the shit. Get to the point. What's the matter?"

"It is just that I do not believe I will be requiring your services for much longer. You've been a good and faithful employee. The least I can do is reward you this

way." "It sounds as if you are getting ready for retirement

or death. Which is it?"

"Neither. Both. I'm not sure ... I am planning a change in status, though, and I don't want you damaged in anything that entails."

"What do you think I am—a pocket calculator? After all this time, you insult me by assuming I possess no curiosity. You've said enough to guarantee not being able to get rid of me until I have the whole story."

"Hm."

"... And if you are thinking of sending me off to my new career without my consent, bear in mind that I can turn this vehicle into a cage."

"You are persuasive. I was trying to get out of it, but I guess I do owe you some explanation. Okay. I suppose it will be difficult for you to understand what a dream is, let alone some of the peculiar ones that have always followed me..."

"I'm strong on theory. Go on."

"My most recurrent dream has always been of gliding, gliding on warm air currents, holding myself motionless above a rich and varied landscape, and sometimes the sea. I can do it forever, it seems, seeing into the secret hearts of everything below. It breeds in me a pleasant combination of peace and cynicism, as well as some other feelings I can no longer put a name to. Days and nights seem to roll by without special emphasis. There is a profound joy in simply being, and a species of understanding I cannot bring over to here and now.

There is also a power, a terrible power in me, which I am almost too lazy to use. I drift..."