Roger Zelazny. The Guns of Avalon. The First Amber Pentology – Corwin’s Story: Book 2. Chapter 1, 2

“You‘re lying! You couldn‘t have. . .”

“I‘m just telling you what I saw! Don‘t hit me! I don‘t know what it meant! Who was he?”

“I think it was my father. God, it‘s strange. . .”

“What happened?” she repeated.

“A spell,” I said. “I sometimes get them, and people think they see my father on the castle wall or floor. Don‘t worry about it. It‘s not contagious.”

“Crap,” she said. “You‘re lying to me.”

“I know. But please forget the whole thing.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you like me,” I told her. “Remember? And because I‘m going to trounce Harald for you tomorrow.”

“That‘s true,” she said, and I started shaking again and she fetched a blanket from the bed and put it about my shoulders.

She handed me my wine and I drank it. She sat beside me and rested her head on my shoulder, so I put my arm about her. A devil wind began to scream and I heard the rapid rattle of the rainfall that came with it. For a second, it seemed that something beat against the shutters. Lorraine whimpered slightly.

“I do not like what is happening tonight,” she said.

“Neither do I. Go bar the door. It‘s only bolted right now.”

As she did this, I moved our seat so that it faced my single window. I fetched Grayswandir out from beneath the bed and unsheathed it. Then I extinguished every light in the room, save for a single candle on the table to my right.

I reseated myself, my blade across my knees.

“What are we doing?” Lorraine asked, as she came and sat down at my left.

“Waiting,” I said.

“For what?”

“I am not positive, but this is certainly the night for it.”

She shuddered and drew near.

“You know, perhaps you had better leave,” I said.

“I know,” she said, “but I‘m afraid to go out. You‘ll be able to protect me if I stay here, won‘t you?”

I shook my head.

“I don‘t even know if I‘ll be able to protect myself.”

She touched Grayswandir.

“What a beautiful blade! I‘ve never seen one like it.”

“There isn‘t another,” I said, and each time that I shifted a little, the light fell differently upon it, so that one moment it seemed filmed over with unhuman blood of an orange tint and the next it lay there cold and white as snow or a woman‘s breast, quivering in my hand each time a little chill took me.

I wondered how it was that Lorraine had seen something I had not daring the attempted contact. She could not simply have imagined anything that close to home.

“There is something strange about you” I said.

She was silent for four or five flickerings of the candle, then said, “I‘ve a touch of the second sight. My mother had more of it. People say my grandmother was a sorceress. I don‘t know any of that business, though. Well, not much of it. I haven‘t done it for years. I always wind up losing more than I gain.”

Then she was silent again, and I asked her, “What do you mean?”

“I used a spell to get my first man,” she said, “and look what he turned out to be. If I hadn‘t, I‘d have been a lot better off. I wanted a pretty daughter, and I made that happen-” She stopped abruptly and I realized she was crying.

“What‘s the matter? I don‘t understand . . .”

“I thought you knew,” she said.

“No, I‘m afraid not.”

“She was the little girl in the Fairy Circle. I thought you knew . . .”

“I‘m sorry.”

“I wish I didn‘t have the touch. I never use it any more. But it won‘t let me alone. It still brings me dreams and signs, and they are never over things I can do anything about. I wish it would go away and devil somebody else!”

“That‘s the one thing it will not do, Lorraine. I‘m afraid you are stuck with it.”

“How do you know?”

“I‘ve known people like you in the past, that‘s all.”

“You‘ve a touch of it yourself, haven‘t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you feel that there is something out there now, don‘t you?”

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