Cardinal Black

by Robert McCammon

  Hudson couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Matthew had changed quite dramatically since the last time he’d seen the young man. It was in his face, in his eyes, in the way he carried himself. Of course Matthew had been through a difficult time—and difficult was not strong enough a word—but still…something about Matthew reminded him now of…

  …himself?

  The demonic mirror. Awaiting them in Italy?

  What was awaiting them there?

  Something worse than a demonic mirror?

  One never knew what Fate had in store.

  One never knew.

  But for the moment…live for the moment, and in the moment.

  “Another ale,” Hudson told the serving girl who came to his table. “And another song from the singer.” He lifted his near-empty mug in respect for her talents, and she gave him a pretty smile and a sweet chorus of notes on her guitar that sounded like birds at play in the trees of summer.

  Bringing back change from the Old Crock?

  The hell you say.

  ****

  “I have come here as a salesman, to sell you an idea,” said one man to another.

  The man who sat in shadow didn’t reply for a moment. Then the voice issued out: a low, sonorous voice, yet there something afflicted about it. “Go on.”

  “I believe you know my reputation. I of course know yours. You possess something I am in need of, and perhaps I possess knowledge that you may find invaluable.”

  “To the point,” said the man who sat in shadow.

  Cardinal Black’s long thin fingers toyed with the silver skullface and satanic rings that adorned his other hand. “You possess a fast ship. I believe it is called the Nemesis. I need such a vessel, unencumbered by other passengers.”

  “And why might that be?”

  Black peered into the shadow. The man before him had deliberately seated himself in this grand room, in this grand white mansion in London’s Regent’s Park district, so that the darkness gathered in his corner of choice enveloped him. The man sat in a white lounge chair with brass-topped nails ornamenting its curvatures. His legs were crossed. His breeches were of the finest pale gray silk, his stockings perfectly white, his ankle-length boots rich ebony and ashine with the lamplight that was directed into the cardinal’s face.

  “Four mornings hence,” Black said, “a ship called the Essex Triton will depart for the port of Venice. I have employed men to gather information from the offices of passage. Some payments were made. They were worthwhile. On this Essex Triton, according to the ledger of the Raleigh Globe company, will be an old man who calls himself John Lamprey, a younger man by the name of Matthew Spottle, four others I care nothing about, and another man who has given his real name of Hudson Greathouse. I in particular know that name because Mother Deare informed me he gave her some trouble in her tavern before he was taken away.”

  “Mother Deare,” said the man who sat in shadow with the afflicted voice. “How does she abide?”

  “Four fathoms deep, I imagine.”

  “Dead?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Hm,” said the man who sat in shadow. “I thought that old bitch would never die.”

  “Sadly it is so.”

  “John Lamprey. Isn’t that a fish of some sort?”

  “As I understand, it is a type of eel that sucks the life from whatever it attaches upon. Which is pertinent, since John Lamprey is the alias being used by Danton Idris Fell. The young man Spottle is in actuality named Matthew Corbett. I have business with him that I wish to bring to a conclusion in my favor.”

  “Professor Fell,” spoke the man. “Why is he sailing to Venice?”

  Cardinal Black changed his position in his chair just a few inches. The movement caused his weirdly elongated face to express a wince, and his left hand went up to grasp at his right shoulder.

  “An injury?”

  “A near case of lead poisoning. I am still in some distress, but be assured I am strong enough to travel.”

  “Explain,” said the man.

  Cardinal Black looked about himself at the walls of the parlor, which seemed to have been constructed with sheets of gold. The ceiling was as white as a new pearl, and hanging from above was a white chandelier bearing a dozen tapers. In contrast to the golden walls were landscape paintings of dark and moody quality, depicting such things as vast lonely valleys and forests stark with ghostly moonlight, all empty of human habitation.

  Black said, “Professor Fell is going to Italy to find a mirror that can call a demon up from the depths of the underworld. This mirror was created by an Italian sorcerer and a man who though obsessed was not fully cognizant of what he was creating…or, afterward, what he possessed. From this enchanted glass can be summoned a creature to do the bidding of its caller. There is some risk involved, naturally, and a careful procedure to be followed. It would be akin to calling up a wild beast and riding upon its back…but…the benefits could be enormous. Think of it, sir. A creature that for a short time is bound to do your bidding. What would you desire? Riches? More than you possess now? Power? More than you have now? Or…beauty. That too would be within your power to command. Think of it, sir. A creature that could conceivably give you anything—anything—your heart or mind might desire.

  “Professor Fell believes this mirror exists and can be found,” Black continued. “I do, as well. Of course I do. My master has told me. It does exist, it can be found, and it can be used. I want the mirror as much as Fell does—even more, I believe, and I intend to get it. My master has told me it is within reach. But my master challenges me, sir. He will not tell me exactly where the mirror is. It is up to me to find it. And to find it, I need a fast ship unencumbered by other passengers to follow the Essex Triton.”

  The man who sat in shadow did not move nor did he speak.

  “I have a goodly amount of money from the recent sale of White Velvet,” Black said, “but my supply is running low. I could charter a private ship, as the professor has done, but as I say I need a fast ship, and one that I know will be captained by a man of your experience who will not lose pace. Therefore I come to you, sir, to ask for the use of the Nemesis, in order to follow Professor Fell to the mirror. He is being led there by the young man Corbett, who has experience with the Herrald Agency. How they have come together in partnership is a mystery even my master cannot solve, but there it is. I need the Nemesis and I am willing to pay.”

  The man who sat in shadow did not speak for a time. At last he said, “You say you are selling an idea. This is it? An enchanted mirror?”

  “The idea I am selling,” said Black, “is that there would be two compartments aboard the Nemesis, and two equal partners in search of a mirror—a well-documented item, by the way—that could give up riches, or power, or beauty beyond measure. One compartment for me, one compartment for yourself.”

  “A journey of considerable length,” said the man. “I have businesses to guide.”

  “As I understand, sir, your businesses are so successful they run themselves. Also, that you don’t often leave this gracious abode. I understand as well that some of your ventures are in…shall we say…competition with those of the professor. I mentioned the old man, John Lamprey. I will add to that: the weakened old man, John Lamprey.”

  “I have heard as much.”

  “And correctly heard. But consider why Professor Fell might be interested—desperate, possibly—to get the mirror,” said Black, as he again toyed with his satanic rings. “In control of the mirror and its power, Fell might do…what? Destroy you and his other competitor Doctor Phibes with one breath of a desire? Bring this house down to a cinder? Wipe you out, sir, as if you had never existed? Oh…it is paramount not only to gain control of the mirror, but to prevent Fell from gaining control. And…there is one more reason a trip to Italy would be of benefit to both you an
d me, over and beyond the mirror.”

  The man who sat in shadow did not respond, but the cardinal knew he was listening.

  “Professor Fell will be travelling only with a guard of four men fully loyal to him. Corbett is what I would call a wild card, and Greathouse the same,” Black went on. “Fell will be far away from that army he commands…or believes he commands. He will be out of his element. Out of his stone walls and his protection. Out in the open, and thus open to being removed entirely from the scene with a minimum of effort. But first…have him lead us to the mirror, and then…a wreath of thorns for his grave?”

  “He believes strongly enough in this mirror to leave his protection?” the man asked.

  “Certainly so. The privately chartered Essex Triton sails for Venice in four mornings, at six o’clock from Dock Number Eight of the Raleigh Globe company. If the professor did not believe so strongly, would he be making such an effort?”

  “Your information is accurate?”

  “You know my reputation. That is my master’s word.”

  The man gave a quiet grunt of consideration. Then he said, “Why don’t I just kill you now and sail off to find the mirror myself?”

  “Sir,” Black replied with a cunning smile, “if you would take stock in the mirror, you would take stock in the anger of my master should any harm befall me from yourself. I am loyal to my Satan, sir, and he is loyal to me. He will be a benefit on this journey, I assure you. And…you would need someone with my influence over such matters to prevent yourself from being torn to pieces before the creature in the mirror could be controlled. Oh, no…you need me.” He waited for that to sink in. “Give further thought to this, sir: it is as important for us to get the mirror as it is for us to prevent Fell from getting it. And as I say, every desire would be within reach. Riches, power, beauty. And certainly renewed beauty.”

  The man was silent.

  In the room a grandfather clock struck eleven.

  At the end of its chimings, the man said, “I do know your reputation. And you know my story, I presume. How events transpired. How I was forced to discipline a woman in my employ, after she allowed one of my possessions to escape? And there was evidence she did this injury to me with full recognition of the fact? Her name was…I forget her name. Interesting. I have her face right there in front of me, but I forget the name. And then this woman perished from the discipline inflicted, which was perfectly my right, and another of my possessions…well…you know this tale, I assume.”

  “I have only heard a breath of the story,” Black admitted.

  “Another of my possessions, being so fond of this woman,” the man continued, “ambushed me with a bottle of corrosive liquid, and…therefore…her name…what was the name?”

  “My idea,” Black prodded. “Yourself, me and perhaps others you might wish to join our quest. Following the professor when the Essex Triton leaves for Venice four mornings hence, and thus to track him—and Matthew Corbett—to the mirror that will give us…everything.”

  “Riches and power,” the man said. “I have all that, in abundance. But beauty…ah! I recall the traitor’s name now. It was Spanner.”

  “My idea, sir?” said Black. “Your decision?”

  The man leaned forward into the light.

  The left side of his face was that of a man devilishly handsome, with a dark brown eye, a high aristocratic forehead, a nose carved for the statue of a god, and a chiselled chin. His abundant hair had once been fully lustrous black but now was streaked with gray at the temple.

  The right side of his face was concealed by a leather mask bound to his head with straps, but upon the leather itself was sculpted a white wax image of the handsome side, the wax adorned with small sparkling moonstones along its edges, which were pressed tightly along the hairline and to the unseen ruin below. Half his mouth was covered by the leather, the lips molded in white wax.

  The eye on the right side was formed of shining gold.

  It bore a pupil of the deepest scarlet.

  The man spoke, only the left portion of the lips able to move.

  “Sold,” said Maccabeus DeKay.

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