Imagine my surprise when Jessica challenged me to a drinking
contest. I have never refused a drinking contest with a lady
and I didn't intent to begin now. I've found that such contests
tend to have two winners and no losers. I sized her up. She
was a good deal taller than me, but of a slighter build. I
might have the edge in weight, or we could be equal, but that aside
I had twenty years of tolerence built up...We started with glasses of the same spectacular Bayle burgandy that we had been drinking with the meal. When we had finished those bottles we moved on to champagne. Midway through the case Bleys suggested we move elsewhere out of respect for the library. Locke, who was sampling some of the spirits and keeping us entertained with stories of his exploits, invited us to his room.
By this time my head was singing. I played a few selections of Corwin's music and I dare say it was very nice. Corwin had a wonderful way of combining notes and rythm which allowed the tone of the song to reflect the mood of the musician. We all talked for a while during this break. I learned that Jessica is also from the world that Locke and Connie call home. From the sound of it she lived closer to the time frame that Connie lived in. She related a plan to us by which she would explain her disappearance by a faked kidnapping. Such things are rare where I come from. Why hold a prisoner when killing them is more certain? I think Locke agreed to the plan, although I was in my own thoughts by then. Shortly thereafter he decided it was time for him to sleep, but being a heavy sleeper he welcomed us to finish out our contest. We lit a few candles, blew out the lanterns, and moved to the open window. Amber had only one moon, and it was at just a little over half, but consuming drink requires little light.
The moon crossed the sky as the hours passed. We finished the case of champagne and I went to hunt down a page to bring us something stronger. On my way through the hall I startled a sleeping guard. He confided in me the location of a cellar. Oh yes, I had seen it on my tour the day before. It was clear to me that I was slipping. Jessica, back in the room, had shown no signs of slowing down. I sighed and tried bringing the pattern to mind as I raided the cellar. The pattern was a bit fuzzy, but as it sharpened so did my mind. I grinned as I hefted a quarter keg of a sweet smelling vermouth and a small oaken cask of hard bourbon. "Keep thinking Pattern old boy, and you'll be fine." I thought.
We washed shots of bourbon down with mugs of vermouth. The taste was unusual. Still, what is taste at this stage? By the time the moon disappeared from the sky I was mellowed by the darkness, quiet, and weight of all that drinking. I became somber.
We kept drinking for a while, but it was geting very late, or early if you'd rather. About an hour before sunrise I suggested we postpone the contest. Jessica agreed. We might have important tasks to complete tomorrow and neither one of us was nearing our limit. I pulled a tapestry off the wall, rolled it up to rest my head on, and went to sleep.