“Bleys,” she repeated, and Bleys, I said to myself inside my head, Bleys. I like you. I forget why, and I know there are reasons why I shouldn’t-but I like you. I know it.
We sat awhile, and I felt fatigue but didn’t want to show it. I should be strong. I knew I had to be strong.
I sat there and smiled and said, “Nice library you’ve got here,” and she said, “Thank you.”
“Bleys,” she repeated after a time. “Do you really think he has a chance?”
I shrugged.
“Who knows? Not I, for certain. Maybe he does. Maybe not, too.”
Then she stared at me, her eyes slightly wide, and her mouth opening.
“Not you?” she said, “You’re not proposing to try yourself, are you?”
I laughed then, solely for purposes of countering her emotion.
“Don’t he silly,” I said when I’d finished. “Me?”
But as she said it, I knew she’d struck some chord, some deep-buried thing which replied with a powerful “Why not?”
I was suddenly afraid.
She seemed relieved, though, at my disavowal of whatever it was I was disavowing. She smiled then, and indicated a built-in bar off to my left.
“I’d like a little Irish Mist,” she said.
“So would I, for that matter,” I replied, and I rose and fetched two.
“You know,” I said, after I’d reseated myself, “it’s pleasant to be together with you this way, even if it is only for a short time. It brings back memories.”
And she smiled and was lovely.
“You’re right,” she said, sipping her drink. “I almost feel in Amber with you around,” and I almost dropped my drink.
Amber! The word had sent a bolt of lightning down my spine!
Then she began to cry, and I rose and put my arm around her shoulders to comfort her.
“Don’t cry, little girl. Please don’t. It makes me unhappy, too.” Amber! There was something there, something electrical and potent! “There will be good days once again.” I said, softly.
“Do you really believe that?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said loudly. “Yes, I do!”
“You’re crazy,” she said. “Maybe that’s why you were always my favorite brother too. I can almost believe anything you say, even though I know you’re crazy.”
Then she cried a little more and stopped.
“Corwin,” she said, “if you do make it—if by some wild and freakish chance out of Shadow you should make it—will you remember your little sister Florimel?”
“Yes,” I said, knowing it to be her name. “Yes, I will remember you.”
“Thank you. I will tell Eric only the essentials, and mention Bleys not at all, nor my latest suspicions.”
“Thank you, Flora.”
“But I don’t trust you worth a damn,” she added. “Remember that, too.”
“That goes without saying.”
Then she summoned her maid to show me to a room, and I managed to undress, collapsed into the bed, and slept for eleven hours.
Chapter 3
In the morning she was gone, and there was no message. Her maid served me breakfast in the kitchen and went away to do maid-things. I’d disregarded the notion of trying to pump information out of the woman, as she either wouldn’t know or wouldn’t tell me the things I wanted to know and would no doubt also report my attempt to Flora. So, since it seemed I had the nun of the house, I decided I’d return to the library and see what I could learn there. Besides, I like libraries. It makes me feel comfortable and secure to have walls of words, beautiful and wise, all around me. I always feel better when I can see that there is something to hold back the shadows.
Donner or Blitzen, or one of their relatives, appeared from somewhere and followed me up the hallway, walking stiff-legged and sniffing after my spoor. I tried to make friends with him, but it was like exchanging pleasantries with the state trooper who signaled you to pull off the road. I looked into some of the other rooms as I went along, and they were just places. innocuous-looking ones.
So I entered the library, and Africa still faced me. I closed the door behind me to keep the dogs out, and I strolled around the room. reading the titles on the shelves.