I followed him from the vestry, and we let ourselves out the way we had come in. We made our way slowly back to the crossroads.
«So he's involved,» I said after a time.
«It's his status I wanted to discuss with you.»
«Yes?»
«I know that a certain geometry prevails in these matters, but I've never learned it fully,» he said. «I do know, though, that it involves the placement of each player's residence.»
«True. Oh. I see what you're getting at.»
«Yes. How does his presence affect the pattern? Do you know how to figure these things, Snuff?»
«I do. I've been walking lines for some time. Where does he actually live?»
«That cottage behind the church is the vicarage.»
«Okay. Close enough. I'm going to have to do a lot more calculating now.»
«I need to know the center ground, the place of manifestation, Snuff.»
«I'd guessed that, Larry, and I'll tell you when I figure it. Mind telling me your plans? I've a feeling they're special.»
«Sorry.»
«That makes you a part of my problem then, you know.»
«How so?»
«If I don't know what you're up to, I don't know whether to count you as a player, whether or not to include your place in the diagram.»
«I see.»
He halted, there at the crossroads.
«Could you do it both ways, with me and without me, and let me know the results?»
«As well as both ways on the vicarage? That'd be damned complicated, having to work it both ways, twice. Why are you afraid to tell me? You've as much as said you're a closer. All right. So am I. You happy now? Your secret's safe. We're in this together.»
«That's not it, Snuff,» he said. «I can't tell you because I don't know. I'm an anticipator. I know certain things about the future, and I anticipate being at the center when the moon is full. And yes, I'm on your side. But I'll also be out of my mind that night. I still haven't worked out the formula for bringing it through a moon-change intact. I'm not sure I should even be categorized as a player. But then, I'm not sure I shouldn't. I'm just too much of a wild card.»
I threw back my head and howled. Sometimes it's the best thing to do.
I went home, made my rounds, thought a lot, and slept. Earlier today, I encountered Graymalk as I paced the neighborhood and calculated.
«Hi, cat,» I said.
«Hi, dog. What's the status on your disposal project?»
«Finished. Done. Complete. All floated away. Last night.»
«Admirable. There were times when I thought they'd find it before you got there.»
«Me, too.»
«We have to be careful what we talk about now.»
«Or even how we phrase things. But we're adults and we're reasonably intelligent and we both know the score. So, how's it going?»
«Not real well.»
«Math problems?»
«I shouldn't say.»
«It's all right. Everybody's got 'em just now.»
«Do you know that? Or are you guessing?»
«It couldn't be any other way, believe me.»
She stared at me.
«I do believe you. What I'd like to know is how you can be so sure?»
«That's the part I can't tell you, I'm afraid.»
«I understand,» she said. «But let's not stop talking just because we're into the second phase.»
«Agreed. I think that would be a mistake.»
«So, how's it going?»
«Not real well.»
«Math problems or identity problems?»
«You're sharp. Both.»
«If you solve the problem of whether Talbot's really a player, I'll trade you something for it.»
«What?»
«Can't say, of course. But it could be useful if things get rough.»
«I'm inclined to take you up on it, but I haven't an answer yet.»
«That gives me something right there, small, but something. So, for whatever it's worth, here's a negative: It can't be the center of a road. The mistress has researched it and found good metaphysical reasons why not.»
«I'd come to that conclusion myself, but I didn't know about the metaphysics. All right, we're still even.»
«Talk to you again soon.»
«Yes, soon.»
I took a walk, to my favorite thinking place, a little hill to the northeast, whence I could see the entire area for a great distance. I called it Dog's Nest. I mounted the height of one of the big blocks of stone that lay there and was afforded a view of the township.
Identities… .
If neither Talbot nor the vicar were technically involved, I'd a good candidate for the center. And if only Larry were involved, it still held. Though I was leery of the Count, it would have to be checked out. But the vicar was also a wild card. If he were to be counted, but not Larry, an equally good candidate for center came into existence, one I had even visited recently. If he and Larry were both to be counted as players, though, a third possible site of manifestation was created, to the southeast, I hadn't quite figured where yet. I moved in a big circle about the hilltop, pissing on stone after stone as I calculated, partly to keep track of the lines, partly in frustration.
Then I had it, and I marked it in my mind. If they both played, then a big old manse about which I knew nothing was the third candidate for the locale. Excitement leaped in my breast like a puppy, enthusiastic and more than a little naive. A bit of consecration was all that was necessary to strengthen the probability of its choice. I'd have to check this out.
I realized then that I needed the help of a cat.
I went looking for Graymalk again but she was nowhere about. Cats are never around when you really need one. There was still time, though.
October 19
I went out last night and sniffed around the ancient manse. There were signs of recent work on the place, smells of fresh-cut lumber, of paint, of roofing, but it was locked up tighter than a canopic urn, and I couldn't tell whether there was anyone about. I walked home, still feeling relieved that I was done with my corpse dragging. The wind whistled and dry leaves blew by me. There were flashes of lightning from off in the Good Doctor's direction.
The Thing in the Circle said, «French poodle?» when it saw me enter.
«Not today.»
«Anything else? Anything at all? I'd sure like to get out and kill and rend. I'm feeling stronger all of a sudden.»
«Your time will come,» I told it.
The Thing in the Steamer Trunk had poked a small hole in the front. An enormous yellow eye regarded me through it. It didn't make a sound, though.
Snoring noises emerged from the wardrobe in the attic.
I paused before the mirror in the hall. All of its Things were clustered again, rather than slithering, and a close inspection showed me that they had positioned themselves before a small flaw in the glass which I hadn't noted earlier. Had they found a way to create such dimensional flaws in their prison? Still, it was too finite to be of much use to them. I resolved to keep an eye on it, though.
I awoke to the crunching sounds of wheels, the clopping of horses' hoofs, and the sounds of several voices, one of them singing in a foreign language, from the road out front. Stretching, and stopping for a quick drink of water, I let myself out to see what was going on.
It was a fine, crisp morning, of sunlight, breezes, and leaves crunching beneath my feet. A line of caravans was passing on the roadway, men in sashes and bright headcloths, Gipsies, all, walking beside or driving, headed, I guessed, for one of the open areas between us and the city, off in the direction of Larry Talbot's place.
«Good morning, Snuff,» came a voice from the roadside weeds.
I walked over and investigated.
«'Morning, Quicklime,» I said, when I spotted his dark sinuosity there. «How you feeling?»
«Fine,» he replied. «A lot better than the other day. Thanks for the advice.»
/>
«Any time. You headed anyplace in particular?»
«I was following the Gipsies, actually. But this is far enough. We'll get word where they camp, by and by.»
«You think they'll be stopping near here?»
«Without a doubt. We've been expecting them for some time.»
«Oh? Something special about them?»
«Well… . It's common knowledge now that the Count's in the area, so I'm not talking out of class. The master spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe, where he learned something of his ways. When the Count travels, he's often accompanied by a band of Gipsies. Rastov thinks he came here in a hurry when he determined where the locus would be, then sent for his band.»
«What function will they serve here?»
«Now we're past the death of the moon, with the power rising, things get dangerous. Everybody seems to know where the Count's residing, unless he's established a few more, uh, residences. So someone with a fence picket who's decided the Game would be better off without him could end his eligibility. He likely wants his Gipsies about to guard his quarters by day…»
«Good Lords!» I said.
«What?»
«I hadn't even thought of the possibility of a player's having more than one residence. Do you realize what that would do to the pattern?»
«Damn! No, I hadn't! This is bad, Snuff. If he's got another grave or two somewhere that throws all the calculations off! It's good you thought of it, but what'll we do?»
«My first impulse was to keep it to myself,» I said. «But then I realized we'll have to cooperate on this. We'll have to set up a schedule, take turns watching him come and go every night. If he's got another place, or places, we've got to find them.»
«Maybe it would just be easier to stake the guy.»
«That wouldn't solve the problem, though. It would just make it harder. And if he happens to be your ally, or mine? You could be sacrificing someone who'd make the difference.»
«True. True. I wish I knew which side you were on… .»
«I'm not so sure that would be a good idea just yet. We may work together better for not knowing it.»
«'Work together… .' On the guard duty business, you mean?»
«I had a little more in mind, for us, right now, if you've got a little time.»
«What do you have in mind?»
«I'll have to tell you a little of my calculations, but that's all right. Rastov has probably duplicated them by now…»
«You are the calculator in your pair?»
«That's right. Now, I propose telling you something, and then we'll go and check it out. No matter what we find, we'll learn something from it which will put us a little ahead.»
«Of course I'll come.»
«Good. My calculations show that one possible center of manifestation is that ruined church near where the Count is making his quarters. I don't know whether this is by accident or design. But either way it means that we can only check it by daylight. We'd better do it now, though, if there are going to be Gipsy guards around later.»
«What exactly do you want to check?»
«I want you to slither down into the place and see whether it's suitable or whether there's not enough left for it to be our center. I'm too big to fit down the opening. I'll stand watch above and let you know if anyone comes by.»
«I'll do it,» he hissed. «Let's be on our way.»
We started out.
«And you'll have to use your imagination, too. It may look bad, but if it could easily be enlarged by a few men with picks and shovels, tell me.»
«Does this mean that Larry Talbot is a player?»
«It doesn't matter,» I said. «It's one of the places it might be.»
«What are the others?»
«Let's not get greedy,» I said.
We made our way through the wood. When we reached the clearing there were no Gipsies about, nor anyone else.
«Check the crypt first,» I said. «You've gotten me wondering whether he's still using it.»
Quicklime slithered into its opening. A little later he returned.
«He's there,» he reported, «and so's Needle. Both of them are asleep.»
«Good. All right. Try the church now.»
I paced about, sniffing the breezes, watching the trees. No one was near, no one approached.
In a little while Quicklime emerged.
«No,» he said. «It's a complete disaster, filled with dirt and rocks. Nothing's left. We'd have to start over again and rebuild.»
I approached the opening, forced myself in as far as I could. It narrowed quickly to the crack down which he had taken his way.
«How far back in that crack did you get?»
«Ten feet, maybe. There were two side ways off of it. Neither goes as far.»
I believed him, from what I could see.
«So what does it mean?» he asked.
«That this isn't the place,» I replied.
«Then what is?»
I thought quickly. I didn't like giving anything to the competition. But in this case one real fact could be misleading; and it was a fact he'd learn sooner or later, anyhow.
I backed out of the opening, turned toward the woods.
«Vicar Roberts,» I said, «has a good disguise as a fanatic churchman… .»
«What do you mean?»
«He's a player.»
«You're joking!»
«No. He holds midnight services to the Elder Gods, right there in the church.»
«The vicar … ?»
«Check it out,» I told him.
«What does that do to the pattern?»
«I've calculated that if we count the vicar and drop Larry Talbot that places the vicarage and the church at the center of the pattern. This isn't final if the Count is moving around, of course, but that's how it looks right now if we figure it this way.»
«The vicar …» he repeated.
We entered the woods.
«So,» he said after a while, «if the Count has a home away from home, or two, we need to find out whether they were established before or after the death of the moon.»
«Yes,» I agreed. Everything was frozen at that point. Death, relocation, withdrawal of a player, all of these shifted things about only before that time. Afterwards, we could kill each other or move about as we wished without disturbing the geometry of the business. «If there were a way of getting Needle to talk, we could find out.»
«Hm,» said Quicklime.
It occurred to me as we passed among the trees that I could be wrong, that I had just given him the correct information. But it seemed to me that the weight of Larry's presence, along with that anticipation business he spoke of, made him too big an influence on the game not to count him as a player, whether he collected ingredients and wove dueling spells, protections, opening spells, closing spells, or not. With him included, along with the vicar, it had to be that old manse rather than the church. And the oft-restored place looked as if it went back far enough to have a chapel around somewhere, or something that had once been a chapel.
Besides, it wasn't really a bad thing to reveal the vicar for what he was. The others would start doing things to skew his efforts once the word was out.
«So what about watching the Count's comings and goings?» I asked.
«Let's hold off on it, Snuff,» he hissed. «No need to bring the others into this yet. I've a much better idea for finding out about the Count's doings.»
«Even with the Gipsies about?»
«Even so.»
«What've you got in mind?»
«Let me pursue it on my own for a day or two. I promise I'll share it with you, after this. In fact, it would be a good idea. I think you're a better calculator than Rastov.»
«All right. We'll hold off.»
We parted at the edge of the wood, him going left, me right.
I made my way back to my place, did a quick circuit, found everything to be in order, and went back outside.
It was easy to
follow the Gipsies' trail, since they stuck to the roadway till they neared their destination. It was a field near Larry's place. I lay doggo for an hour or two and watched them set up their encampment. I didn't really learn anything, but it was colorful.
Then I heard sounds from the road and turned my attention. An old-fashioned coach was approaching, drawn by two tired-looking horses. I dismissed it till it slowed and turned up Larry Talbot's driveway.
I quitted my place of concealment in a stand of shrubs and headed that way, in time to see the coachman help an old woman to descend from the vehicle. I moved nearer, passing among a few ancient trees, upwind of them, as the lady, with the assistance of a blackwood cane, made her way to Larry's front door. There, she raised the knocker and let it fall.
Shortly, Larry opened the door and they spoke briefly. The wind prevented my making out their words, but after a short while he stepped aside and she entered.
Most peculiar. I circled the house to the rear, began peering in windows. I discovered them to be seated in the parlor, talking. Sometime later, Larry rose, absented himself briefly, returned with a tray bearing a decanter and a pair of glasses. He poured, and they sipped sherry, continuing their discussion. This went on for at least half an hour.
Finally, they both rose and departed the room. I raced about the house, checking windows again.
At last, I located them in the skylighted room where he grew his plants, engaged in an animated discussion with frequent gestures toward the flora. This went on for the better part of an hour, before they returned to the parlor for another glass of sherry and another long talk.
Then the coachman was summoned, and Larry loaded him with greenhouse clippings, then accompanied them both out to the coach before he bade her a cordial good-bye.
I was torn between following the coach and approaching Larry immediately. As the thing rumbled off, I realized that I could not contain myself, foolishly perhaps, for I can only speak with Jack between midnight and one o'clock. I raced up to him.
«Who was that lady?» I asked.
He smiled.
«Hello, Snuff. How are you?» he said.
I repeated my question, hoping that his canine spirit granted comprehension around the clock.
«A delightful lady,» he replied. «Name's Linda Enderby. Widow of an India officer who'd died in the Mutiny. She and her servant recently moved into an old manse she's restored near here. The city's grown a bit dear for her, and far too busy. She was just paying a social call, wanting to meet some of the neighbors. And she shares my passion for botany. We had a lively discussion of dicotyledons.»
A Night in the Lonesome October Page 6