"Zelazny, Roger - Amber Short Stories 04 - Coming To A Cord" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

"Rinaldo, King of Kashfa," Luke said.

"Your father--who was he?"

"Brand--Prince of Amber."

"Of course," the sorcerer said, moving again toward the door. "You can
destroy that thing with it. Command it to draw energy while you're using it.
It has a virtually limitless supply to draw upon."

"Why?" Luke asked.

"Because it isn't really a sword."

"What is it then?"

"Sorry," the sorcerer said, regarding the guisel, which was now moving
toward us. "Out of time. Got to find another mirror."

I could tell that he was, unaware of my presence, really teasing Luke,
because I had figured it out for myself and knew it would take only a moment to
tell him, if one could speak.

Then I was disengaging and dropping as fast as I could, for Luke was
swinging Werewindle, and I'd no desire to be severed. I really did not know
what would happen if this were to occur--if both segments would wind up as wise,
witty, and conscious as myself; or, perhaps, whether I would be destroyed in the
process. And having no desire to learn this information firsthand, flight
seemed most prudent.

I hit the floor before the blow fell. A section of the guisel's head also
dropped, still writhing. I squirmed toward Luke's nearest ankle. Flora picked
up a heavy chair and brought it down on the thing's back with considerable
force, despite her broken fingernail. And she swung it a couple of more times,
with some effect, while Luke was in the process of cutting it in half.

I found my way to where I was headed, crawled up, and caught hold.

_Can you hear me, Luke?_ I tried then.

"Yes," he replied. "What are you?"

_Merlin's strangling cord, Frakir._

Luke swung at the hind section then as it whipped toward him, tiny legs
clawing. Then he whirled and halved the attacking forepart. Flora struck its
rear end again with the chair.

_I know what the sorcerer knew,_ I said.