by Mike Resnick
"I'm working on it,” said Mallory. “Just out of curiosity, what about the other two worlds?"
"What other two worlds?"
"The worlds those rubies give you access to,” said Mallory, pointing to the Grundy's necklace.
"I was very young when I acquired my first ruby,” replied the demon. “My powers were immature, and I didn't know how to control them."
"You destroyed the whole world?"
"I gained considerable knowledge from the experience."
"Well, I'm glad somebody did. What about the other one?"
"It was a rational world, dedicated to all that is best in Man,” said the Grundy. “It was approaching a state of utopia when I obtained the ruby."
"And now?"
"I visited it with chaos, I introduced hatred and bigotry and jealousy into its soul, I destroyed their monuments to Reason and forced them to erect pagan statues to me."
"For their own good?” said Mallory dryly.
"Certainly,” replied the Grundy. “One cannot appreciate a utopia without having experienced a dystopia, any more than one can appreciate the concept of Good without having experienced Evil."
"You keep talking about balance, and good and evil, and your sense of purpose,” said Mallory. “But all I hear is how you bring ruin to everything you touch."
"Humanists will tell you that Good and Evil are relative concepts, that there are no absolutes in the universe,” said the Grundy. He growled contemptuously. “Humanists are fools! There is absolute Good and absolute Evil. The universe requires not just one, but both. I represent the one, and my job is to oppose the other."
"Who represents Good?” asked Mallory.
"Just as I do not exist in all times and places, neither does my counterpart. In some universes he is Jesus, in some Mohammed; in some he is nothing more than an abstract ideal, a concept embedded in a thought or a word."
"And you try to kill off the Good?"
The Grundy shook his head. “The universe would be as out of balance if I killed my Opponent as it would be if he killed me. I may try to subdue him, just as he tries to subdue me, but neither of us can ever win. I destroy a man, and he creates a child; he plants a flower, and my breath withers it; I enslave a race, and he imparts to them a vision of freedom; he creates a monument, and I gnaw at its foundations."
"If you've achieved a balance, why do you need another ruby?” asked Mallory.
"To maintain balance in yet another world,” answered the Grundy. "Your world."
"If by balance you mean murder and rape and war, then my world's already got a little more balance than it knows what to do with,” replied Mallory dryly.
"I will bring confusion out of order, hate out of love, pollution out of sterility—and from my strength my Opponent will drink deep and increase his own."
Mallory stared at him for a long moment.
"You've caused enough misery for one lifetime,” he said at last. “I don't intend to let you bring any more to my world."
"You will not turn the ruby over to me?” demanded the Grundy.
Mallory shook his head. “My world's got enough problems without you adding to them."
"But I already have!" laughed the Grundy. “Larkspur lived for more than fifty years. Who do you think whispered dreams of empire into the ear of a frustrated Austrian housepainter? Who placed the machinery of execution in Stalin's hands? I was at My Lai and Auschwitz, at Phnom Penh and Hiroshima. It was I who told Idi Amin how to exercise his power, who designed the dungeons of Paraguay, who convinced Neville Chamberlain to trust his fellow man.” He paused and stared directly into Mallory's eyes. “And yet you survived, and you grew, and you prospered, for my Opponent never rests. I blow polio upon the winds, and he guides Jonas Salk's hand; I walk the battlefields and ravage the wounded, and he transmutes bread mold into a magical elixir. I slaughter the satiated, and he feeds the starving. The balance still exists—but for it to continue, I must have the ruby."
"No."
"But why?" demanded the Grundy, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration and leaving burn marks on the shattered plaster. “I have explained the situation to you! Surely you see the necessity of it!"
"Consider it a social experiment,” said Mallory. “I think one world deserves a chance to survive without your particular notion of balance."
The Grundy sighed and shook his head. “Then some other entity will come along to take my place."
"Perhaps,” acknowledged Mallory. “But I can't worry about that. All I can do is concentrate on what I can control—and I control the ruby."
"I have ways of extracting it from you,” said the Grundy ominously.
"I'm sure you have,” said Mallory. “But they won't do you any good. If I don't report to Felina at four-thirty and every hour thereafter, neither you nor I will ever see the stone again."
"You would forfeit your life to deny me the ruby?"
Mallory stared levelly at the demon. “You're not going to kill me as long as you have a chance of getting your hands on it, so why don't you stop threatening me?"
"I have no desire to kill you at all,” answered the Grundy. “It would not aid my efforts to achieve a balance here. In a world dedicated to disorder, you alone seem able to make sense of the disparate pieces.” He smiled ironically. “In truth, Mallory, my needs and your character are such that, in this world at least, we should be allies.” The smile vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. “But I am compelled by my nature to seek the stone, and if you stand in my way I will crush you."
"Well,” answered Mallory, “you seem to like paradoxes, so consider this one: as long as I stand in your way, there's a chance that you may wind up with the ruby—and the second you knock me down, it's lost to you forever."
"Then I will watch you every minute of every day,” promised the Grundy. “Power possesses an insidious, fatal attraction to all beings, and that ruby is power incarnate. Sooner or later you will be drawn to it, and then I shall strike."
"Don't pursue me too closely,” said Mallory wryly. “Give temptation a chance."
"You have proven to be a worthy antagonist,” said the demon sincerely. “I shall be sorry to kill you."
"Then don't."
"Give me the ruby, and leave in safety."
"If my world is going straight to hell, it's going to do it without your help,” said Mallory firmly. “Besides,” he added, “if I gave you the stone, you'd hunt me down and kill me in my Manhattan for the same reasons that you admire me here."
The Grundy grinned, displaying a set of truly impressive canines: “You are a very wise man, Mallory. I salute you!"
"How do I compare with your Opponent on this world?” asked Mallory, returning his grin.
"It is not given to me to know the identity of my Opponent, or else I would kill him.” Suddenly he stared intently at the detective. “It might even be you."
"That's not very likely,” replied Mallory. “I just got here."
"But my Opponent works in strange ways. He could be using you just as I use the rubies."
"I wouldn't count on it. I'm a free man, possessed of free will, and if I defeat you I plan on taking all the credit for it myself."
"Then the battle lines are drawn,” announced the Grundy, “and you and I shall wage war over the Yin and Yang of it."
He made a quick gesture in the air, which was followed by a puff of reddish smoke and a popping sound, and suddenly Mallory was alone in the office.
Mallory stepped out into the warehouse, looked around, lit a cigarette, and opened the front door. The Prince of Whales was waiting for him.
"You done with your business?” he demanded gruffly.
"Actually, I have a feeling that we're just beginning,” answered Mallory, walking out into the cold Manhattan morning.
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Chapter 15
4:11 AM-4:48 AM
Mallory began shivering as he walked along the water-front, and suddenly realiz
ed that he hadn't activated his robe. He quickly adjusted the belt, and a moment later he could feel the heat spreading through the fabric.
After he had walked for perhaps half a mile, he turned to his left, leaving the river behind him. Before long he came to an all-night drugstore. It seemed to be frequented solely by goblins and Gnomes of the Subway, and the moment he entered it he became aware that he was the recipient of several sullen glares.
"I wouldn't hang around if I was you, buddy,” said the goblin behind the cash register. “This place is strictly off-limits to humans, you know what I mean?"
"I won't be here long,” Mallory assured him. “I just need a map of the city."
The goblin pulled one out from behind the counter. “Here you go,” he said. “Take it home and study it, and see if you can learn not to come where you're not wanted."
"What do I owe you?"
"Fifty cents."
Mallory reached into his pocket and pulled out two of Mürgenstürm's quarters, laid them on the counter, and turned toward the door.
A large apelike creature, so covered with hair that its facial features were hidden, blocked his way.
"You're a long way from home, ain't you?” said the ape in a guttural voice.
Mallory took a quick glance behind him to see if there was another exit. There was—but half a dozen goblins stood between it and him, each of them grinning in anticipation of the bloodletting to come.
"I'm not looking for any trouble,” said the detective.
"You don't have to look for it!” snarled the ape. “It's right here waiting for you!"
"Okay,” said Mallory with a shrug. “But when I'm late for my appointment with the Grundy, he's going to know who to blame."
Suddenly the ape looked very unsure of himself. “The Grundy?"
"I'm Mallory. Don't you ever read a newspaper?"
"I don't believe you,” said the ape.
"That's up to you,” replied the detective. “Just don't ever say that you weren't warned."
The ape began pacing back and forth in front of Mallory, slapping his chest and trying to work himself into a killing rage—but his eyes kept darting to the shadows, looking for a sign of the demon.
"Get out of here!” he growled at last. “It's more bother to rip you apart than it's worth."
Mallory quickly walked out the door.
"And don't show your face in here again!” yelled the ape, his belligerence returning as Mallory widened the distance between them.
Mallory put a couple of blocks between himself and the drugstore and then stopped beneath a flickering streetlamp, where he unfolded the map. When he found the location he wanted, he memorized the shortest route, then put the map into his pocket and began walking.
Ten minutes later he came to Mystic Place, turned the corner, and walked up to Number 7. Just before he climbed down the stairs to the basement apartment, he saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye.
Then he was knocking at the door, and the Great Mephisto peeked through the curtains.
"It's me,” said Mallory. “Let me in."
"Are you alone?” demanded Mephisto.
"More or less."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Just open the goddamned door,” said Mallory.
The magician opened his door, pulled the detective inside, and slammed it shut.
"Any luck?” asked Mephisto.
"Haven't you been watching in your crystal ball?"
"I've been trying to find Winnifred."
"Get yourself a new crystal,” said Mallory. “She's already been rescued."
"By you?"
Mallory nodded.
"That's wonderful news!” said Mephisto enthusiastically. “Don't just stand there. Come on in!"
Mallory followed the magician from the small foyer into the living room. There was a crystal ball on a cherrywood coffee table and an oddly shaped mirror on the wall, but beyond that the room seemed unexceptional. There were a number of chairs and couches, all done in a hideous Danish modern with mauve slipcovers, a shelf of books that were so neat and dust-free that they seemed more decorative than functional, a color television with two video decks hooked up for dubbing, and a handful of paintings of big-eyed elfin children on black velvet.
"It's not exactly a palace,” said Mephisto apologetically, “but the rent is reasonable, and the utilities are free."
"I had envisioned something with a little more atmosphere,” replied Mallory.
"Atmosphere?"
"Illuminated manuscripts, boiling caldrons, bats hovering overhead, that sort of thing."
Mephisto laughed. “That's the Grundy's place you're describing, not mine."
"Somehow I thought all magicians’ lairs would look that way,” commented Mallory, walking over to the mirror and staring at his reflection.
"Well, I'm not really so much a magician as an illusionist,” replied Mephisto.
"What's the difference?"
"A magician practices magic, of course."
"What does an illusionist do?"
"Card tricks, sleight of hand, pulls rabbits out of hat—you know the routine."
"But you've got a crystal ball and a magic mirror."
"Well, along with being an illusionist, I'm also an opportunist,” replied Mephisto easily. “I bought the mirror at a bazaar in Marrakesh, and I stole the crystal ball from a magician in Tulsa."
"Then you're not a magician at all."
"Oh, I can do some magic,” answered Mephisto. “Enough to get by. But what I'm really good at is card tricks.” He reached into the air and pulled out a nine of hearts, waved his hand over it, and then displayed it again. All the hearts had vanished. “You look unimpressed,” he noted. “It's just an audience warmer-upper. I've got much better ones."
"It's a hell of a card trick,” said Mallory. “I just don't think it will do much good against the Grundy."
"The Grundy?” asked Mephisto nervously.
Mallory nodded. “He knows I'm here."
"You led him to my apartment!” said Mephisto accusingly.
"He already knows where you live,” replied Mallory. “Hell, you're probably in the telephone book."
"But he didn't know that I had anything to do with you!"
"Believe me, he doesn't give a damn about you,” said Mallory. “It's me he wants."
"If he wanted you, you'd be dead by now."
"He's waiting for me to lead him to the ruby."
"You know where it is?” asked Mephisto intently.
"Yes."
"Where?"
"You'll live longer if you don't know,” said Mallory. He looked around the room. “How can I get in touch with him from here?"
"With the Grundy?"
"That's right."
"You'll tell him I've got nothing to do with all this?"
"I promise."
Mephisto sighed deeply. “I suppose the best way is to try using Periwinkle,” he said at last.
"Who or what is Periwinkle?” asked Mallory.
"My magic mirror,” explained Mephisto.
"How does it work?"
"You just tell it what you want, and hope that it's in a good mood.” He grimaced. “It's rather spoiled."
"Well, I like that!” said a high-pitched, whining voice.
Mallory turned to the mirror, and saw that it had suddenly developed strangely human facial features: a broad, expressive mouth, a narrow, angular nose, and large, round, bloodshot eyes. “I stay here all day long in this cold, drafty apartment, I lie to your creditors, I help you cheat at cards, and this is the thanks I get. Rather spoiled, indeed!"
Mallory approached the mirror.
"I need to speak to the Grundy,” he said.
"Oh, you do, do you?” snapped Periwinkle. “Well, I need an owner who has some knowledge of interior decorating, who cleans his carpets every now and then, who shows a little compassion for a mirror that has hopes and fears and desires just like anyone else!"
"I think it's his lack of consideration that bothers me the most,” confided Periwinkle. “Do you know that he picks his toenails while he sits there drinking beer and watching wrestling matches on television?"
"Now, just a minute!” said Mephisto.
"Look!” screamed the mirror. “Now he's going to hit me!"
"I am not going to hit you!” said the magician wearily.
"I was happy in Marrakesh,” whined Periwinkle. “I had respect and position, I was treated like a member of the family, I wasn't locked in a room and forgotten for days at a time.” It rolled its bloodshot eyes plaintively. “Father, father,” it intoned, “why hast thou forsaken me?"
"I'm sorry,” said Mephisto to Mallory. “It's just going to be one of those nights."
"You think I can't do it, don't you?” said the mirror accusingly. “You think I can't contact the Grundy whenever I want!"
"Can you?” asked Mallory.
"There's no limit to what I can do,” said Periwinkle. “Watch!"
Suddenly its facial features vanished and its surface became momentarily cloudy. Then it cleared, to reveal a baseball diamond.
"What the hell is that?” asked Mallory.
"The fifth game of the 1959 World Series,” said Periwinkle proudly. “That's Luis Aparicio leading off first base, and Nelson Fox about to lay down a bunt."
"Impressive,” admitted Mallory.
"That's nothing!” said Periwinkle enthusiastically. “Feast your eyes on this!"
The ballgame faded, to be replaced by a scene showing Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable leading a ragtag army of Afghans into battle.
"The Man Who Would Be King," announced the mirror.
"You must be mistaken,” said Mallory. “I saw that movie—it had Sean Connery and Michael Caine."
"Ah,” said Periwinkle. “But this is the version John Huston wanted to make twenty years earlier and couldn't get funding for."
"Really?” said Mallory. “I'd like to see it someday."
"I can tell you're a man of taste and perception,” said Periwinkle approvingly. “Not like the cardsharp over there. All he ever asks me to show are Russ Meyer movies."