“Who are you?” it said again.
“None of your business, Charlie. Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home—”
“Four times must I ask you and four times be refused before I may enter and slay you. Who are you?”
“No,” I said, standing. “Come on in and burn!”
Then it tore away the latticework, and the wind that accompanied it into the chamber extinguished the candle.
I lunged forward, and there were sparks between us when Grayswandir met the dark rune-sword. We clashed, then I sprang back. My eyes had adjusted to the half dark, so the loss of the light did not blind me. The creature saw well enough, also. It was stronger than a man, but then so am I. We circled the room. An icy wind moved about us, and when we passed the window again, cold droplets lashed my face. The first time that I cut the creature—a long slash across the breast—it remained silent, though tiny flames danced about the edges of the wound. The second time that I cut it—high upon the arm—it cried out, cursing me.
“Tonight I will suck the marrow from your bones!” it said. “I will dry them and work them most cunningly into instruments of music! Whenever I play upon them, your spirit will writhe in bodiless agony!”
“You burn prettily,” I said.
It slowed for a fraction of a second, and my opportunity was there.
I beat that dark blade aside and my lunge was perfect. The center of its breast was my target. I ran it through.
It howled then, but did not fall. Grayswandir was torn from my grasp and flames bloomed about the wound. It stood there wearing them. It advanced a step toward me and I picked up a small chair and held it between us.
“I do not keep my heart where men do,” it said.
Then it lunged, but I blocked the blow with the chair and caught it in the right eye with one of the legs. I throw the chair to the side then, and stepping forward, seized its right wrist and turned it over. I struck the elbow with the edge of my hand, as hard as I could. There came a sharp crack and the runesword clattered to the floor. Then its left hand struck my head and I fell.
It leaped for the blade, and I seized its ankle and jerked.
It sprawled, and I threw myself atop it and found its throat. I turned my head into the hollow of my shoulder, chin against my breast, as it clawed for my face with its left hand.
As my death grip tightened, its eyes sought mine, and this time I did not avoid them. There came a tiny shock at the base of my brain, as we both knew that we knew.
“You!” it managed to gasp, before I twisted my hands hard and the life went out of those red, red eyes.
I stood, put my foot upon its carcass, and withdrew Grayswandir.
The thing burst into flames when my blade came free, and kept burning until there was nothing remaining but a charred spot upon the floor.
Then Lorraine came over and I put my arm about her and she asked me to take her back to her quarters and to bed. So I did, but we didn‘t do anything but lie there together until she had cried herself to sleep. That is how I met Lorraine.
Lance and Ganelon and I sat atop our mounts on a high hill, the late morning sun hitting us in the back, and we looked down into the place. Its appearance confirmed things for me.
It was akin to that twisted wood that filled the valley to the south of Amber.
Oh my father! What have I wrought? I said within my heart, but there was no answer other than the dark Circle that lay beneath me and spread for as far as the eye could see.
Through the bars of my visor, I looked down upon it—charred-seeming, desolate, and smelling of decay. I lived inside my visor these days. The men looked upon it as an affectation, but my rank gave me the right to be eccentric. I had worn it for over two weeks, since my battle with Strygalldwir. I had put it on the following morning before I trounced Harald to keep my promise to Lorraine, and I had decided that as my girth increased I had better keep my face concealed.