Various Fiction

by Robert Sheckley

  “I heard you, my dear, but I do not believe it.”

  “You do not believe the man Lapthorn has brought the bad luck with him?”

  Amer scowled. He had wanted to spend the evening studying his Amsterdam manuscript. Now he saw that he was going to have to consider this matter of Lapthorn. “My dear,” he said, “it is coincidence, nothing more.”

  “I know what is coincidence,” Samona said, “and I know what is caused by an evil presence. I took a look at Lapthorn the other day with the Second Sight.”

  “Did you indeed?” Amer was interested. He had spent many years working out the principles of magic, deriving them from those governing alchemy. Armed with that knowledge, he had been able to operate in both worlds, the natural and the supernatural. He always said that it was a difficult situation, because, although supernatural things did happen, it was mere vulgar superstition to attribute a supernatural cause to anything you didn’t understand. Both magic and science existed, but all scientific tests had to be exhausted before it was correct to take recourse in magical explanations.

  As a scientist, Amer was bothered by magic, because it presented him with situations that were not simply quantifiable, and with instances that were not repeatable. If they had been, they would have been scientific. Since they weren’t, they had to be magical. Amer had a distaste for having his life ruled by irrational elements. He would have liked to reduce everything to science and reason. Life and circumstance had dictated otherwise.

  He was also an honest man. He knew that Samona had a natural talent for magic, and a lot of it. She had some powers he did not possess. The Second Sight was one of them. It was typically, though not exclusively, the gift of a female witch. It gave her the power, when conditions were right, to see through the surface of things to the mystery that lay at their core. It presented the conclusion of things, but in a jangled and melted fashion, so that only afterwards did you know, could you interpret, what the Second Sight had shown you.

  Not possessing the power himself, Amer was more than a little interested in Samona’s accounts of its use.

  “What did you see when you looked at him? And what were the circumstances?”

  Samona’s beautiful face was thoughtful. The firelight put a golden edge to her features. Outside, the wind moved, rustling branches and stirring leaves. There was a sound of crickets. It was a night in late summer.

  “I was on my way to Charity Simpson’s with the shawl I’d promised her. Lapthorn passed on the other side. It was a windy day and his cloak was flapping. I saw a face in his cloak.”

  “An act of the imagination!” Amer cried, disappointed.

  “I think not. There was the feeling of uncanniness that so often accompanies a vision with the Second Sight. The feeling of a strange glamour. And the face in the cloak spoke to me.”

  “Are you saying that he spoke aloud?”

  “I know not. Perhaps what he said was not audible to others. But he said to me, “Help! I need help!”

  “Whose face was it?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Was it the face of Douglas, the idiot?”

  “It was not.”

  “Had you ever seen the face before?”

  “Never.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me about it?”

  “Only that it was not human.”

  Amer cleared his throat explosively, breaking the quiet that had fallen upon them. He got up from his chair and began pacing up and down the plank floor. His hands were clasped behind his back. His long dark hair, caught at the end in a black ribbon, had half escaped its confines and hung to one side of his face. His look was intent, annoyed.

  “Samona, have you forgotten why we came here to Rock Harbor?”

  “No, I have not forgotten.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “It was to live for a time away from magic and from those who knew of our powers.”

  “And why did we decide to do that?”

  “Amer, please!”

  “No, tell me, why.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We became tired of the loneliness and hiding from the fears of others.”

  “That is my understanding, too, my dear. We moved away and decided to live simply and sanely, and without witchcraft. Is that not correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Why, then, are you using the Second Sight?”

  “Amer! It did no harm to use it! No one could tell! I did it but to find out what manner of man he was.”

  “What do you mean, no one could tell?”

  “You know as well as I do, only one with the power can detect another using the Second Sight. There are none in this town save us.”

  “And Lapthorn,” Amer said.

  “Lapthorn, a warlock? Are you sure?”

  “Think about what you’ve told me about him.”

  Samona thought, then nodded. “Yes, he must be a warlock. His actions point to no other conclusion.”

  “And now,” Amer said, “he knows that you are a witch, and probably believes that I am a warlock.”

  “I didn’t think of that, Amer!”

  “You’re out of practice,” Amer said. “That’s probably why you were detected.”

  “But Lapthorn didn’t see me! Only the face in the cloak!”

  “And who will the face in the cloak tell it to? After all, it’s Lapthorn’s cloak.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Samona said. “But it’s no sin to use the Second Sight. Perhaps all this will come to nothing.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Amer said. “We didn’t move to Rock Harbor to be drawn into a profitless battle of wizards.”

  During the next weeks, uncanny occurrences came to the little town of Rock Harbor. Weird noises were heard at night, such as the ominous twitterings of bats that had gathered in the woods near town in great numbers. They were joined by the eerie hooting of barnyard owls, and the cough and snarl of wolverine and wolf. Lapthorn’s prosperity continued to increase, but the fortunes of the town began to ran downhill. Flocks of small black flying insects began to proliferate. It was difficult to know if they were natural or not. But worst of all, little Amy fell sick of a fever. This was the matter that finally precipitated Amer to action.

  Amer called up his own elemental. Through his alchemical researches he had long known that on the etherial plane, many strange beings exist. These were responsive to natural law, as expressed through alchemical manipulations. These beings were not really human, and their motivations were strange and sometimes shocking. But they could be of assistance to an alchemist who treated them with respect.

  He burned the chemicals and repeated the incantations. After a while, Robin Goodfellow, as Amer had come to call him, appeared in the big glass retort. He was no more than five inches high, and he had a heart-shaped pixie face and long pointed ears.

  “You always call me at the most inconvenient times,” Robin said. He was almost incorporeal—a dancing flame within the glass retort, a flame that changed color as he expressed different emotions.

  “I beg pardon,” Amer said. “Perhaps another time?” He already knew the trouble you could get into if you tried to force an elemental to do what it didn’t wish to do.

  “No, it’s all right,” Robin said. “As it happens, I do have some time on my hands. I had intended to attend Oberon’s fancy dress ball, which was to be held in Poictesme this evening. But it has been cancelled due to sidereal effects of a baleful nature, and so I am at your service.”

  Amer wanted to ask about Oberon and the fancy dress ball. And where was this place called Poictesme? But he decided he’d better stick to business. He explained about Lapthorn and the mysterious happenings that had attended his coming to Rock Harbor, and Samona’s experience in the house.

  “What do you want me to do?” Robin asked.

  “It would please me very much if you went in there, Robin, and tell me what you saw.”

  “Why not do it yourself?”
/>
  “That is more than a little difficult. Since Samona went there unannounced, Lapthorn has set up his defenses.”

  “I will take a look,” Robin said, “and we will see what we will see.”

  That evening as Amer was going over papers in his study, he noticed a green flame dancing in the big glass retort.

  “Robin, is it you?”

  “None other.”

  “And have you been to Lapthorn’s house?”

  “I have tried. But some sort of dire magic lingers around the place. I sought to pass through a keyhole invisibly, but something seized me by the hair and tried to pull me through, I got out fast, I can assure you.”

  “So I am no wiser than before,” Amer said sadly.

  “Not true. I can tell you that your suspicion of another elemental is confirmed. Even at that distance I could tell its presence.”

  “Is this spirit stronger than you? Is that what kept you out?”

  “I wouldn’t call it stronger,” Robin said. “But there was much evil around that house, evil of the blackest kind.”

  “Is there no way to get inside?”

  “There is for you,” Robin said. “You have but to use the proper spell.”

  “And which spell might that be?”

  Robin Goodfellow sat down on emptiness within the big glass globe of the retort. He was dressed in a tunic of russet brown, and wore a green shirt with wide sleeves and a green tunic. His heart-shaped face was nut-brown, and filled with many creases.

  “Faith,” he said crossly, “what does a spirit have to do to get some refreshment around here?”

  “My apologies,” Amer said. “I have victuals for you right here.”

  Amer put into the open-topped glass globe a little pitcher of milk and a plate of honey cakes that Samona had baked the previous night. Robin tested them and found them good. His appetite was soon satisfied, however, since elementals eat for the spirit of the thing, having no use for earthly provender. Finished, he wiped his mouth delicately on a tiny muslin handkerchief.

  “My dear Amer,” he said, “you have in your study the fourth book of the great Albertus Magnus?”

  “Yes, I do,” Amer said. “I’ve been studying it.”

  “Remember the formula that appears in Section Fourteen, which is entitled ‘Getting Around Evil Influences’ ?”

  “I remember it well. But it doesn’t work. I have tried that incantation many a time, without result.”

  “Master Albert got it ever so slightly wrong,” Robin said. “His third word begins with a bet in the language of the Hebrews. Change that to a shin and see what happens.”

  “As easy as that?”

  “Magic is very easy,” Robin said, “when you know how.” After Robin had gone, Amer hastened to his copy of the Great Albert’s book. He found the erroneous word and made the proper correction. He was ready now to enter Lapthorn’s house. But there was still a problem. Lapthorn, perhaps sensing a contradictory magic that could work against him, scarcely moved from nis home, except for rapid trips to buy provisions. His absences were unscheduled. Amer waited, two days, four days, a week. His opportunity still did not occur. He began to despair at getting into the house.

  Samona and he were discussing it one evening. Amer was in a very bad mood, since this was cutting into his study time. And in the meantime, evils of various sorts continued to proliferate in the town. Strange sights were reported. There was panic among the citizens. Visitations of an uncanny and noxious nature were increasing—showers of toads, sudden eruptions of stinging worms, odd little red-furred bats that had never been seen before in the neighborhood. And there was no relief in sight.

  “It’s really annoying,” Amer said. ‘The man doesn’t even attend to his jewellery business any longer. It’s as if he knows I’m planning a move against him, and is waiting to be ready for me. If only he’d leave the house for a decent length of time! Even an hour could be enough!”

  “If an hour is all that you need,” Samona said, “I think I could provide that for you.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  “Master Lapthorn has a considerable interest in me.” Amer raised both eyebrows. “I thought he was enraged at you for entering his house.”

  “He was. But that anger hides his deeper rage at my not returning his signs of interest in me.”

  “How do you know he is interested in you? Is that more witch’s business?”

  “It is woman’s business,” Samona said serenely. “Magic has nothing to do with it.”

  “I don’t like it,” Amer said. “Whatever you are proposing would put you at risk.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Samona said. “As you well know.”

  “Samona! We had agreed that you were not to use any magic again!”

  “I don’t intend to,” Samona replied demurely. “There are other ways of distracting men. Is Master Lapthorn at home now?”

  “He has gone to the tavern, probably to bring home his customary tankards of ale.”

  “Then I could go out now and meet him on the street. Be you ready, Amer, for I will shortly give you the hour you need.”

  “What will you do?” Amer asked.

  “Don’t ask matters that will give you unnecessary pain. We must do this, Amer! Not just for the town; for our own lives, and Amy’s!”

  “Yes, so be it,” Amer said sullenly.

  Samona said, “Master Lapthorn! How providential that I run into you.”

  Lapthorn paused, two foaming pewter tankards of beer in his hands, a length of sausage under his arm. “Mistress Crafter! I would not have thought you glad to see me.”

  “Because you warned me to stay out of your house?”

  “Why, yes,” Lapthorn said. “Ladies do not take kindly to being given orders, even if they are for their own good.”

  “Some do and some do not, Master Lapthorn,” Samona said, simpering, and so dense was Master Lapthorn, as she had suspected, that he did not take her conduct for fakery, but thought that some special essence of manhood in himself had called it forth.

  “Master Lapthorn, I have heard you sailed from Plymouth in England.”

  “I have lived there,” Lapthorn said cautiously.

  “I have relatives from there,” Samona said. “It would please me very much if you would walk me to the Buttery and tell me something of the appearance of that famous port.”

  “Nothing would please me better,” Lapthorn said. “The harbor of Plymouth . . .” He began describing the place as they walked along.

  As he approached the house, Amer felt a chill come over him. Waves of cold seemed to emanate from the doorway, and although there was no wind, Amer could feel the big old elm on his left peer at him as he came up the winding pathway that shielded the house from the main road. There was a hum and buzz of unseen things in the air.

  A blazing log flew at him, although he could not see where it came from, or who threw it. He ducked just in time. Other blazing bits of wood came at him. Amer dodged them and hastily recited the version of Albertus Magnus’ invocation which Robin Goodfellow had corrected for him, with the shin substituted for the bet. The shower of sparks died away. He tried the door. It opened to his touch.

  The place was dark—it was just after sunset. The fading day cast oblong shapes of old gold through the windows. A low fire burned untended in the hearth. Somewhere a grandfather clock ticked with an ominous, syncopated sound. The place was as quiet as a mouse holding its breath. Amer walked in and glided ghostlike down a long hallway, with fading slabs of sunlight lighting his way. It occurred to him that the valley of the shadow of death probably began in sunlight.

  And then he was faced with a door. He turned the knob. It was locked. Albertus’ formula, repeated again, served to unlatch it. Or perhaps Lapthorn hadn’t locked it properly in the first place. Amer knew you could never be too certain about what caused what. But then he was inside the room, and he saw, sitting on a chair before him, the idiot boy, Douglas.
/>
  “You’re the boy, aren’t you?” Amer said.

  “Who the hell are you?” It was a surprisingly deep voice that came from the boy’s mouth. A masculine voice, intelligent and of some years’ experience.

  “Who are you?” Amer asked.

  “Caspardutis, so I am called in this cycle.”

  “You are an elemental?”

  “That I am.”

  “Why do you occupy the body of this child?”

  “Because I was lured here.”

  “Lured? How!”

  The idiot turned his head slowly. His pale eyes regarded Amer with intelligent curiosity. Then he laughed.

  “You do have a lot of nerve to invade Lapthorn’s house this way. Or did you kill him beforehand?”

  “With all your powers, wouldn’t you know if I’d done that?”

  “My powers are real enough,” Caspardutis said, somewhat testily. “But I needn’t waste them on a creature like Lapthorn.”

  “You call him a creature. Yet you serve him.”

  “Yes, I must. He enticed me with his spells. I was in no danger then, just curious to see what manner of man tried to attract the attention of an elemental, and to perhaps provide him with a mischief. Then, to my surprise, he flashed a symbol at me. It was a copy of the Seal of Solomon, not a very good likeness, really, and rather smudged—it was a rubbing, you see—but it was enough to trap me instantly. And so I must do his bidding for a time.”

  “How long a time?”

  “We dwellers of the ether don’t reckon by years. But we know when an account is settled.”

  “Your being here has attracted a lot of bad luck to this town.”

  Caspardutis shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “You could get out of here and not come back. Unless you enjoy playing fetch for Lapthorn.”

  “Me, enjoy it? Why, I’d rather rip the man’s guts out, slowly, inch by inch. But as I told you, I’m bound to obey his orders.”

  “What has he asked you for?”

  “Gems, precious stones. It’s creating a lot of disturbance in some other realms, I can tell you, because I have to get those gems from somewhere. It’s downright embarrassing, since I have to steal them, and stealing is no more approved among elementals than it is among men.”