“Your blood is on your own hands,” I said. “I count you as a suicide.”

“Not so!” he snapped back. “You slew me most unfairly.”

“Bullshit,” I answered. “I may be guilty of a lot of things, but your death is not one of them.”

I began to walk away, and his hand emerged from the mirror and clutched at my shoulder.

“Murderer!” he cried.

I brushed his hand away.

“Bugger off!” I said, and I kept going.

Then, from a wide, green-framed mirror with a greenish haze to the glass, Random hailed me from my left, shaking his head.

“Merlin! Merlin! What are you up to, anyway?” he asked. “I’ve known for some time that you haven’t been keeping me abreast of everything that’s afoot.”

“Well,” I replied, regarding him in an orange T-shirt and Levi’s; “that’s true, sir. Some things I just haven’t had time to go into.”

“Things that involve the safety of the realm — and you haven’t had time?”

“Well, I guess there’s something of a judgmental factor involved.”

“If it involves our safety, I am the one to do the judging.”

“Yes, sir. I realize that —”

“We have to have a talk, Merlin. Is it that your personal life is mixed with this in some way?”

“I guess that’s true —”

“It doesn’t matter. The kingdom is more important. We must talk.”

“Yes, sir. We will as soon as —”

“‘As soon as,’ hell! Now! Stop screwing around at whatever you’re up to and get your ass back here! We have to talk!”

“I will, as soon as —”

“Don’t give me that! It verges on the traitorous if you’re withholding important information! I need to see you now! Come home!”

“I will,” I said, and I hurried away, his voice joining a continuing chorus of the others, repeating their demands, their pleas, their accusations.

Out of the next one — circular, with a blue braided frame — Julia regarded me.