Roger Zelazny
The Shroudling and the Guisel
Preface from _Realms of Fantasy_: This story takes up the affairs of Merlin, son of Corwin, from where I left him at the end of _Prince of Chaos_, the 10th and most recent book in my Amber series. As a Prince of Amber on his father's side and a Prince of Chaos on his mother's, Merlin has some problems--not the least of these being that he finds himself in the line of succession for the recently vacated Throne of Chaos, a position he is not anxious to assume. He had felt himself well-protected from it by the number of claimants ahead of him. Unfortunately, they have been dying off most rapidly, generally by means other than the natural. He suspects his mother, Dara, and his half-brother, Mandor, of having a hand in this. But he recently faced both of them down in a magical duel, and they seem to have had second thoughts about his tractability, should one of them manage to seat him on the Throne. Time will tell. In the meantime, he went off to one of Mandor's guest houses, hoping for a good night's sleep.
I awoke in a dark room, making love to a lady I did not recall having gone to bed with. Life can be strange. Also oddly sweet at times. I hadn't the will to destroy our congress, and I went on and on with what I was doing and so did she until we came to that point of sudden giving and taking, that moment of balance and rest.
I made a gesture with my left hand and a small light appeared and glowed above our heads. She had long black hair and green eyes, and her cheekbones were high and her brow wide. She laughed when the light came on, revealing the teeth of a vampire. Her mouth held not a trace of blood, making it seem somehow impolite for me to touch my throat seeking after any trace of soreness. "It's been a long time, Merlin," she said softly.
"Madam, you have the advantage of me," I said.
She laughed again. "Hardly," she answered, and she moved in such a fashion as to distract me entirely, causing the entire chain of events to begin again on my part.
"Unfair," I said, staring into those sea-deep eyes, stroking that pale brow. There was something terribly familiar there, but I could not understand it.
"Think," she said, "for I wish to be remembered."
"I...Rhanda?" I asked.
"Your first love, as you were mine," she said smiling, "there in the mausoleum. Children at play, really. But it was sweet, was it not?"
"It still is," I replied, stroking her hair. "No, I never forgot you. Never thought to see you again, though, after finding that note saying your parents no longer permitted you to play with me...thinking me a vampire."
"It seemed so, my Prince of Chaos and of Amber. Your strange strengths and your magics...."
I looked at her mouth, at her unsheathed fangs. "Odd thing for a family of vampires to forbid," I stated.
"Vampires? We're not vampires," she said. "We are among the last of the shroudlings. There are only five families of us left in all the secret images of all the shadows from here to Amber--and farther, on into that place and into Chaos."
I held her more tightly and a long lifetime of strange lore passed through my head. Later I said, "Sorry, but I have no idea of what a shroudling is."
Later still she responded, "I would be very surprised if you did, for we have always been a secret race." She opened her mouth to me, and I saw by spirit-light a slow retraction of her fangs into normal-seeming dentition. "They emerge in times of passion other than feasting," she remarked.
"So you do use them as a vampire would," I said.
"Or a ghoul," she said. "Their flesh is even richer than their blood."
"'Their'?" I said.
"That of those we would take."
"And who might they be?" I asked.
"Those the world might be better off without," she said. "Most of them simply vanish. Occasionally, with a feast of jokers, only parts of some remain."
I shook my head.
"Shroudling lady, I do not understand," I told her.
"We come and go where we would. We are an undetected people, a proud people. We live by a code of honor which has protected us against all your understanding. Even those who suspect us do not know where to turn to seek us."
"Yet you come and tell me these things."
"I have watched you much of my life. You would not betray us. You, too, live by a code."
"Watched me much of my life? How?"
But we distracted each other then and that moment came to a close. I would not let it die, however. Finally, as we lay side by side, I repeated it. By then, however, she was ready for it.
"I am the fleeting shadow in your mirror," she said. "I look out, yet you see me not. All of us have our pets, my love, a person or place of hobby. You have always been mine."
"Why do you come to me now, Rhanda?" I asked. "After all these years?"
She looked away.
"Mayhap you will die soon," she said after a time, "and I wished to recall our happy days together at Wildwood."
"Die soon? I live in danger. I can't deny it. I'm too near the Throne. But I've strong protectors--and I am stronger than people think."
"As I said, I have watched," she stated. "I do not doubt your prowess. I've seen you hang many spells and maintain them. Some of them I do not even understand."
"You are a sorceress?"
She shook her head. "My knowledge of these matters, while extensive, is purely academic," she said. "My own powers lie elsewhere."
"Where?" I inquired.
She gestured toward my wall. I stared. Finally, I said, "I don't understand."
"Could you turn that thing up?" she asked, nodding toward the spirit-light.
I did so.
"Now move it into the vicinity of your mirror."
I did that also. The mirror was very dark, but so was everything else there in Mandor's guest house, where I had elected to spend the night following our recent reconciliation.
I got out of bed and crossed the room. The mirror was absolutely black, containing no reflection of anything. "Peculiar," I remarked.