«I couldn't guess. This is your first, of course.»
«No,» I said, and I did not elaborate, knowing what I had just given away.
We walked on through the drizzle toward the place of brightnesses, keeping to the road as there were fewer wet things to brush up against there.
As we drew nearer, I saw that the front door of the farmhouse stood open, light spilling out through its rectangle. And someone was moving upon the roadway, headed toward us. Another discharge from the storm clouds gave the building a thorny corona of light, and outlined briefly in its glare I saw that a very big man was moving toward us at an ungainly but extremely rapid pace. He was dressed in ill-fitting garments, and my single glimpse of his face showed it as somehow misshapen, lopsided. He halted before us, swaying, turning his head from side to side. Fascinated, I stared. The rain had washed all scents from the air, until we achieved this proximity. Now, though, I could smell him and he grew even stranger to me, for it was the sick, sweet scent of death that informed his person, reached outward from it. His movements were not aggressive, and he regarded us with something akin to a child's simple curiosity.
A tall figure suddenly appeared at the farmhouse door, looking outward into the night, laboratory coat flapping in the wind.
The giant figure before me leaned forward, staring into my face. Slowly, unthreateningly, he extended his right hand toward me and touched me on the head.
«Good…dog,» he said in a harsh, cracked voice, «good…dog,» as he patted me.
Then he turned his attention to Graymalk, and moving with a speed that belied his earlier gesture, he snatched her up from the ground and held her to his breast.
«Kit-ty,» he said then. «Pret-ty kit-ty.»
Clumsily, he moved to stroke her with his other hand, rain streaming down his face now, dripping from his garments.
«Pret-ty…»
«Snuff!» Graymalk wailed. «He's hurting me! Too tight! His grip's too tight!»
I began barking immediately, hoping to distract him into relaxing his grip.
«Hello!» came a call from the man at the farmhouse. «Come back! You must come back now!»
I kept barking, and the man dashed outside, rushing in our direction.
«He's let up a little, but I still can't get free!» Graymalk told me.
Apparently confused, the huge man turned to the approaching figure, and back again. It appeared to be the Good Doctor headed our way. I kept up the barking, since it seemed to have worked.
When the Good Doctor came up beside the giant he placed a hand upon his arm.
«Raining cats and dogs, I see,» he said.
I stopped barking as the giant turned his head and stared at him, doubtless at a loss for words in the face of such a sallying of wit.
«The doggy wants you to put the kitty down,» he told him. «The kitty wants to get down, too. Put her down and come back with me now. It's a bad night to be outside, with all this rain.»
«Bad…night,» the big man responded.
«Yes. So put the kitty down and come with me.»
«Bad…rain,» rejoined the other.
«Indeed. Cat. Down. Now. Come. Now. With me.»
«Cat…kitty…down,» said the big fellow, and he leaned forward and deposited Graymalk gently on the road. His eyes met mine as he rose, and he added, «Good…dog.»
«I'm sure,» said the Good Doctor, taking hold of his arm with both hands now and turning him back toward the farmhouse.
«Let's get out of here,» Graymalk said, and we did.
October 21
The things are getting restless, but their restraints still serve. I stopped by Larry's place this morning, to suggest he answer to the name «Lucky,» if so addressed by any woodsy denizen in his wanderings. This necessitated my giving him a little background concerning speculations as to his status. He's agreed to be even more circumspect in his comings and goings. I filled him in on all the rest, too, since I considered us partners. Everything, that is, save for Linda Enderby's true identity. I was loath to destroy his illusions concerning the genial old lady whose company had given him such pleasure. Whatever had been learned there had been learned, and I doubted it could have been much in such a bizarre case as his, with him so guarded concerning it, and letting him live a little longer with his fond memory of the visit did not seem much in the way of risk taking. I resolved to wait a few days before revealing the deception.
«Hear anything more about the police and their search?» I asked.
«They're still investigating, but they seem to have questioned everyone and now they've started searching fields along the way. I think the latest theory is that the officer might have been thrown from his horse, which did make it back to their stables.»
«I guess he didn't wash up. Maybe he made it out to sea.»
«Possibly. I'm sure they'd be looking at any washups pretty closely.»
«I wonder what this beating of the bushes might mean to the Count, if they go very far afield?»
«I'll bet if you check today you'll find he's moved.»
«So you think he has another place, too?»
«Of course. That's his style. And he has the right idea. Everyone should have a place to run to. You can never be too careful.»
«Do you?»
He smiled.
«I hope you do, too,» he said.
When I smile no one can tell.
I went looking for Graymalk then, to see whether I could persuade her to climb down into the crypt for me again. But she wasn't anywhere about. Finally, I gave up and wandered over to Rastov's place.
Quicklime wasn't readily available either, and I began rearing up and peering in windows. I spotted Rastov himself, slouched in a chair, vodka bottle in one hand, what might be his icon clutched to his breast with the other. Something stirred on the windowsill and I realized it to be my erstwhile partner. Quicklime raised his head, stared at me, then gestured with his head toward the adjacent room. At that, he slid from the sill and was gone.
I made my way back to the near window of that room, which was opened slightly. Moments later, he emerged.
«Hi, Quick,» I said. «How's it going?»
«Sometimes I wish I were back in the fields again,» he replied. «I'd be getting ready for a long winter's sleep.»
«Bad night?»
«I got out just in time. He's at it again. Drinking and singing sad songs. He could get us into a lot of trouble when he's had too much. He'd better be sober for the big night.»
«I should hope so.»
We went off toward the rear of the place.
«Busy?» he asked me.
«Believe it.»
«Listen, Snuff, the boss doesn't tell me everything, and Nightwind said, just a day or two back, that there are divinatory ways for discovering whether someone's an opener or a closer. Is that true?»
«He's right,» I said. «But they're unreliable before the death of the moon. You really have to have some juice to make them work.»
«How soon after?»
«Several days.»
«So people could be finding out everyone's status pretty soon?»
«Yes, they will. They always do. That's why it's important to finish any mutual business before then. Once the lines are drawn, your former partners may be your new enemies.»
«I don't like the idea of having you or Nightwind for an enemy.»
«It doesn't follow that we have to kill each other before the big event. In fact, I've always looked on such undertakings as a sign of weakness.»
«But there's always some killing.»
«So I've heard. Seems a waste of energy, though, when such things will be taken care of at the end, anyhow.»
«… And half of us will die in the backlash from the other half's winning.»
«It's seldom a fifty-fifty split of openers and closers. You never know what the disposition will be, or who will finally show up. I heard there was once an attempt where everyone withdrew on the last day. Nobody sho
wed. Which was wrong, too. Think of it. Any one of them with guts enough could have had it his own way.»
«How soon till the word gets out, Snuff?»
«Pretty soon. I suppose someone could be working on it right now.»
«Do you know?»
«No. I'll know soon enough. I don't like knowing till I have to.»
He crawled up onto an old tree stump. I sat down on the ground beside him.
«For one thing,» I said, «it would interfere in my asking you to do something just now.»
«What,» he said, «is it?»
«I want you to come back with me to the crypt and check it out. I want to know whether the Count's still there.»
He was silent, turning in the sunlight, scales shimmering.
«No,» he said then. «We don't have to go.»
«Why not?»
«I already know that he's not there.»
«How do you know this?»
«I was out last night,» he said, «and I hung myself in a plum tree I'd learned Needle frequents when he feeds. When he came by I said, “Good evening, Needle.”
“Quicklime, is that you?” he answered.
“Indeed,” I replied, “and how go your farings?”
“Well. Well,” he said. “And your own twisting ways?”
“Oh, capital,” I answered. “I take it you have come to feed?”
“Yes. I always come here last, for these plums are my favorites and put a fine end to a harvesting of bugs. I prefer saving the best for last.”
“As it should be,” I said, “with all endeavors. Tell me, for I was wise in these ways now, having lived with Rastov, have you ever sampled the long-fallen plums, those which look wrinkled, ruined, and unappetizing?”
“No,” he replied, “that would be silly, when so many good ones still hang upon the tree.”
“Ah,” I told him, “but looks may be deceptive, and good is certainly a relative term.”
“What do you mean?“ he asked.
“I, too, enjoy the fruits,“ I said, “and I have learned their secret. Those over yonder on the ground are far better than those which hang yet upon the limbs.”
“How can that be?” he said.
“The secret is that as they lie there, cut off forever from the source of their existence, they draw upon their remaining life to continue a new kind of growth. True, the effects wither them, but they ferment from their own beings a new and special elixir, superior to the simple juices of those upon the tree.”
“They taste a lot better?”
“No. They do not. This goes beyond mere taste. It is a thing of the spirit.”
“I guess I ought to try it, then.”
“You will not be disappointed. I recommend it highly.”
So he descended to the earth, came upon one of those I had indicated, and bit into it.
“Agh!” he exclaimed. “These are no good! Overripe and… ”
“Give it a chance,” I said. “Take more, swallow it down, and then some more. Wait just a bit.”
And he sampled again, and again.
“A little later”, he said, “I feel slightly dizzy. But it is not unpleasant. In fact…”
He tried another, suddenly more enthusiastic. Then another.
“Quicklime, you were right,” he said after a while. “There is something very special about them. There is a warm feeling…”
“Yes,” I answered.
And the dizziness is not quite dizziness. It feels good.”
Take more. Take lots more,” I told him. “Go with it as far as it will take you.”
Shortly, his words grew harder to understand, so that I had to slide down from the tree to be sure I heard everything he said when I began, 'You were with the Count when he created his new graves, were you not… ?
And so I learned their locations, and that he was moving to one last night,» he finished.
«Well done,» I said. «Well done.»
«I hope he didn't awaken feeling the way I did the other morning. I did not linger, for I gather it is a bad thing to see snakes when you are in that condition. At least, Rastov says it is. With me, it was humans that I saw last time, all those passing Gipsies. Then yourself, of course.»
«How many graves are there besides the crypt?»
«Two,» he said. «One to the southwest, the other to the southeast.»
«I want to see them.»
«I'll take you. The one to the southwest is nearer. Let's go there first.»
We set out, crossing a stretch of countryside I had not visited before. Eventually, we came to a small graveyard, a rusted iron fence about it. The gate was not secured, and I shouldered it open.
«This way,» Quicklime said, and I followed him.
He led me to a small mausoleum beside a bare willow tree.
«In there,» he said. «The vault to the right is opened. There is a new casket within.»
«Is the Count inside it?»
«He shouldn't be. Needle said he'd be sleeping at the other one.»
I entered nevertheless and pawed at the lid for some while before I found a way to open it. When I did, it came up quite easily. It was empty, except for a handful or two of dirt at its bottom.
«It looks like the real thing,» I said. «Take me to the other one now.»
We set off on the longer trek, and as we went I asked, «Did Needle tell you when these graves were established?»
«Several weeks ago,» he answered.
«Before the dark of the moon?»
«Yes. He was very insistent on the point.»
«This will ruin my pattern,» I said, «and everything seemed such a perfect fit.»
«Sorry.»
«You're sure that's what he said?»
«Positive.»
«Damn.»
The sun shone brightly, though there were clouds about, and, of course, a goodly cluster off toward the Good Doctor's place, farther south, and there came a bit of chill with a northerly breeze. We made our way cross-country through the colors of autumn, browns, reds, yellows, and the ground was damp, though not spongy. I inhaled the odors of forest and earth. Smoke curled from a single chimney in the distance, and I thought about the Elder Gods and wondered at how they might change things if the way were opened for their return. The world could be a good place or a nasty place without supernatural intervention; we had worked out our own ways of doing things, defined our own goods and evils. Some gods were great for individual ideals to be aimed at, rather than actual ends to be sought, here and now. As for the Elders, I could see no profit in intercourse with those who transcend utterly. I like to keep all such things in abstract, Platonic realms and not have to concern myself with physical presences… . I breathed the smells of woodsmoke, loam, and rotting windfall apples, still morning-rimed, perhaps, in orchard's shade, and saw a high, calling flock V-ing its way to the south. I heard a mole, burrowing beneath my feet… .
«Does Rastov drink like that every day?» I asked.
«No,» Quicklime replied. «He only started on Moon-death Eve.»
«Has Linda Enderby visited him?»
«Yes. They had a long talk about poetry and someone named Pushkin.»
«Do you know whether she got a look at the Alhazred Icon?»
«So you know we have it… . No, drunk or sober, he wouldn't show it to anybody till the time of its need.»
«When I was looking for you earlier, I saw him holding what looked like an icon. Is it on wood, about three inches high, nine inches long?»
«Yes, and he did have it out from its hiding place today. Whenever he feels particularly depressed he says that it cheers him up to 'go to the shores of Hali and consider the enactments of ruin' and then to contemplate the uses he has for it all.»
«That could almost be taken as a closer's statement,» I said.
«I sometimes think you're a closer, Snuff.»
Our eyes met, and I halted. At some point, you have to take a chance.
«I am,» I said.
«Damn! We're not alone then!»
«Let's keep it quiet,» I said. «In fact, let's not speak of it again.»
«But you can at least tell me whether you know if any of the others are.»
«I don't,» I said.
I started forward again. A small plunge taken, a small victory grasped. We passed a pair of cows, heads down, munching. A small roll of thunder came from the Good Doctor's direction. Looking left, I could make out my hill, which I'd named Dog's Nest.
«Is this one farther south than the other?» I asked, as we turned onto a lane which led in that direction.
«Yes,» he hissed.
I kept trying to visualize the pattern tugged in new directions by these new foci of residence. It was irritating to keep finding and losing candidates for center. It seemed almost as if the forces were playing games with me. And it was especially difficult to keep surrendering ones that seemed eminently appropriate.
At last our way took us to what seemed like somebody's family plot. Only, the family it belonged to was long gone. A collapsed building lay upon a nearby hilltop. Barely a foundation, really, was what remained. And I saw that the remains of the family had been adopted, when Quicklime led me into the overgrown graveyard, all but the eastern side of its fence fallen, and that side atilt.
He led me among tall grasses to a great stone slab. There were signs of recent digging about the perimeter it had covered, and the stone had been raised and offset to the side, leaving a narrow opening through which I knew I must squeeze.
I stuck my nose inside and sniffed. Dust.
«Want me to check it out?» Quicklime said.
«Let's both go down,» I replied. «After this walk, I at least want a look.»
I went through and descended a series of uneven steps. There was a puddle at the bottom and I stepped over it. There were others about, too, and I couldn't avoid them all. It was dark, but eventually I made out an opened casket set up in a raised area. Another had been moved aside to make room for it.
I approached to sniff about the thing. What odors I might have sought, I'm not sure. The Count had been scentless on the night we had met, a very disconcerting thing to one of my temperament and olfactory equipment. As I drew nearer and my vision cleared, I wondered why he had left the lid open. It seemed most inappropriate for one of his persuasion.
A Night in the Lonesome October Page 8