Silverlock (Prologue Books)

by John Myers Myers

  “No, he doesn’t; but this friend of his will be able to find out for himself, if he’s as good as Captain Face says he is. You see, he’s an alchemist.”

  “Come again?”

  “He’s a — well, an alchemist. By his science he can change a substance into something else. He can also see into the future and advise you as to how to deal with what’s going to happen.”

  “A fortune teller, eh?” I was still dubious about such things, but I no longer laughed at the idea. “Well, maybe it’s what the doctor ordered. If he’s on the level, that is.”

  “We can easily judge his honesty, Shandon, by whether he can find out who our enemy is, say. But I’m sure he’s a legitimate practitioner. Captain Face says he is really a scholar who hates to have his studies interrupted even by an opportunity to make money by his vast knowledge. The captain thinks he can persuade him to take the case, though, out of friendship for him.”

  The fact that he was dealing with a military man was somewhat reassuring. An officer may be every other sort of a scoundrel, but the nature of his duties makes it difficult for him to be a con man or a shill.

  “Where is this captain?” I asked.

  “After supper, which I insisted that he have with me in view of his kindness, he went straight to the doctor — the alchemist, you know — in hopes of persuading him to see me tonight. I hurried here, so I could let you and Golias know what’s going on. The captain will be along later.”

  I watched the waiter pour. “Did this joker ask you for money by any chance?”

  “No. I tell you he wasn’t that kind. He did say he thought it would be all right to make a gift to the doctor that would help him carry on his studies. But I was the one who brought the subject up.”

  “Uh-huh.” There was no use in saying anything further until I had had a look at the man in question. I was tapping the dottle out of my pipe when the quiet which the tap room in general had shared with us after my noncommittal rejoinder was interrupted. There was an altercation at the door. Then the words were loud enough to reach us.

  “I tell you I gotta see somebody here,” a harsh voice said.

  The next voice was that of Robin Turgis, our landlord. “If any of my customers saw you,” he retorted, “they’d stop drinking, and I’d go bankrupt. Get along now.”

  “I tell you I come in.”

  “Sure, but not here. All right, lads.”

  They must have given the intruder the heave-ho, for I heard a scuffle, followed by the slamming of the door. A minute later there was a noise at one of the open tap room windows, which were of the casement type. Next a figure vaulted over the sill, and I saw what the landlord meant. It was a man, but it took a second look to make sure. It is no exaggeration to state that I’ve seen chimpanzees whose features appeared more human. The fellow walked as awkwardly as an ape, too, knockkneed, stooped, and hump-backed, and with long arms hanging.

  All of us there were startled, but the greatest shock was reserved for us. “I wanna see a man called Jones,” the fellow growled.

  I wished later that I had had the inspiration to ask Lucius if that was his friend, the captain, but at the time all I hoped was that he wouldn’t admit his identity. Attracted by the voice, Turgis and two of his bouncers rushed the trespasser, but the latter held them at bay with an upraised chair.

  “You make trouble, so do I,” he warned. “I ain’t gonna leave without seein’ if Jones is here.”

  “Yes! I’m the one you’re looking for,” Lucius announced. “It’s all right, landlord. If he has business with me, I want to hear about it.” Rising, he drew back a chair. “Sit down, won’t you?”

  The hunchback approached, peering at Lucius from amidst the knot of wens framing his one good eye. “Lucius Gil Jones?” he asked.

  “That’s right. What do you wish with me?”

  The fellow continued to examine him. “You know anybody called ap Hawthorn?”

  “Yes! Lady Hermione Steingerd ap Hawthorn. Is she all right? Do you know where she is?” Lucius was so overcome with excitement, pleasure, and anxiety that he couldn’t stop for answers. “Tell me where she is! I really am Jones; Lucius Gil Jones, that is. Ask Mr. Shandon, here.”

  “Give the guy a chance to say something.” I put my hand on Lucius’ arm until he quit yammering. “This is the man you’re looking for,” I told the hunchback. “What do you know?”

  “You got her name right anyhow.” Lifting himself into the chair with his arms, he leaned toward Jones. “Ravan own me,” he said, “but she kind to me like nobody else is. She smile at me, and sweet.”

  “The sweetest smile in the — ” Lucius began.

  “Shut up and let him talk,” I ordered. “Go on, chum.”

  “Ravan put her in house here — ”

  “Here! Right in Parouart?” Jones nearly knocked over the table jumping to his feet.

  “Was here,” the other said. “Ravan move her.”

  “Oh.” Lucius slumped back into his seat. “Do you know where they took her?”

  “No.”

  I was beginning to wonder whether this unaccountable visit wasn’t something Don Rodrigo had dreamed up by way of torturing Jones. “Where did they have her locked up?” I asked.

  “Right across from Hell Fire Club.” Sensing my suspicion, he stared at me. “Why you ask?”

  “Because among other things, I want to know how she knew Jones was here at the Fir Cone.”

  “She see him this morning when he leave club, but too much racket from whores fighting. They outyell her.”

  “Oh, she was free to call out.” I thought I had him then. “Not even guarded.”

  “I guard her part of time. She not supposed to yell, but I let her. She call to lots of people, but you know.” He shrugged. “Nobody listen to woman yelling in Parouart unless she ask him to lay her.”

  “I guess you’ve got something, there,” I conceded, reflecting that I wouldn’t have answered distress calls from strange windows in that town. “This burg looks to me like it might be the place where the badger game was invented.”

  “Especially near the Hell Fire Club,” Lucius agreed. “My God! To think that she called to me, and I didn’t hear.”

  “She watch all day for you, and see you come again,” the hunchback proceeded, “but too much racket from Hell Fire Club then. So she show you me as you go through club door.” He put a finger to his usable eye. “What I see with this I don’t forget.”

  “And you tailed him here when he came out,” I nodded, all but convinced of his sincerity. “But if you left to do that, how do you know Lady Hermione’s gone?”

  “They take her away while I still at window, looking for Jones. I hear them say Ravan move her because somebody in Parouart looking for her, and Ravan don’t got time to see her anyhow, like he hope to.”

  “Our one comfort,” Jones said. “And you really don’t have any idea where they were taking her?”

  “I hear them say one place of his, but he got lots.” The fellow shrugged again. “Anyhow I follow you; but you talk to soldier, so I wait outside tavern.”

  “You showed good sense,” I remarked. “From what we saw this afternoon Ravan’s got the army eating out of his hand.”

  He paid no heed to my commendation. “Then I follow you again, but lose you on this corner and try inn across street first. Then I come here and have to ask because I know your back good but not your face. So I want you,” he said, pointing a finger at Jones, “to turn around.”

  “What for?” Lucius was dazed with disappointment at learning that he had been on the right trail, only to lose it. “Oh, all right.”

  Standing up again, he faced away from the hunchback. The latter looked him over, then darted a hand into his shirt. My own hand grabbed the bottle but relinquished it when he produced a fold of paper instead of a weapon. He slipped the paper into Jones’ hand and slid from the chair. In another moment he had vaulted out of the window again.

  When I turned from watc
hing his departure, Lucius was reading the message which the hunchback had brought. Upon finishing it, he buried his face in his hands.

  “Oh, my Christ! She’s wonderful, but what can I do?”

  “Did she give you any clue as to where she’s being taken?” I enquired.

  “No, she — Oh, you read it.” He shoved the note across the table at me, then, disregarding the stares of the other patrons, he rose to pace the floor. Filling his glass again, in case he should feel the need of it, I scanned the letter.

  To Lucius Gil Jones, wherever located:

  You saw me last a girl while I was cold

  With anger at an infidelity

  Not half so great as I was guilty of

  When I let treachery seduce my faith

  From you, to whom it properly belongs.

  But this is a woman speaking to a man

  Out of the new maturity that’s mine

  By right of knowing evil. Now I know

  What I owe you as well as what’s my due,

  And, given the chance to prove it, I will try.

  I know another thing, and that is this:

  There is no haven for my heart but yours.

  There, it is said; I mend my loyalty

  Whether you choose to do the same or not;

  I’m half myself at that rate anyhow.

  But whether or not you choose to make me whole,

  I ask you by the words which we once said —

  And you at least have never taken back —

  To find and save me from the brothel marriage

  Which Ravan, some for pleasure, more for wealth,

  Will wreak upon me if you do not care.

  My father, crippled by his wounds and blind,

  Or half so, as you know, can give no help;

  My friends will think I’ve made a lucky match;

  The law, were Ravan not above the law,

  Could but avenge me when it is too late.

  I am beyond all other help but yours:

  Will you not come and save

  Hermione.

  At the end I didn’t look at Lucius right away. I could sense that the message made an unbearable attack on so many of his emotions that his mind was still racing from one point to another in stunned confusion. At length, because I had to make some comment, I cleared my throat.

  “Quite a girl,” I said.

  Jones lifted his head haggardly. “She wonders if I still love her.” He reached out a shaking hand for the letter. “She not only forgives me, she takes the blame for what — er, happened at Upton. How can she write that?”

  “She’s got some blame coming to her.” I hesitated, as my mind dawdled along a path it had never used before. “Of course, it’s not her fault that you got yourself mixed up with that floozie, but a man — and a woman, too, I guess — needs all the props he can get to keep him from falling into foolishness. In this particular instance she had taken away one of yours. Not too many girls would have seen that.”

  He waited for me to finish, but to all intents and purposes I had been talking to myself. Relief that he was square with his sweetheart was being by-passed in his attention by the bad facets of the case.

  “If only I had been diplomatic instead of picking a — oh, there he is!” I just steadied the bottle in time, as he shook the table, jumping up again. “Here we are, Captain! Right here. Waiter — where’s that waiter? Oh. You there, bring a glass for the captain, and another bottle, please. Captain Face, this is my excellent friend, Mr. Shandon.”

  I looked the captain over, as we shook hands. To outward appearances, a hearty soul dwelt within his blue and gold uniform and behind his beard.

  “Your servant, Mr. Shandon.” Next he saluted the bottle. “And your servant any time.” Dragging a chair back, he expertly kicked his sword out of the way with one booted foot and sat down.

  “I certainly take this kindly of you,” Lucius said. “Have you seen your friend, the learned doctor?”

  The waiter arriving with the extra glass, the captain reached out to grip the bottle by the neck, snapped off the loose cork with his thumb, and swept the wine toward him with a motion that ended in pouring. “First things come first,” he laughed, lifting his drink toward the flask which the waiter was opening. “Here’s to the newcomer. Ah!” Filling his glass anew, he twitched each spike of his moustache and beamed at Lucius. “I had a time talking him into it. I believe I told you how reserved and sunk in his studies he is; but I’m glad to report that he has consented to take time out to consider your problem.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Jones gripped the soldier’s hand. “Will he see me tonight?”

  “We had quite a discussion about that, too,” the captain chuckled. “At first he swore that he couldn’t possibly spare you a moment in under a week, but — well, I suppose it’s the attraction of opposites. I admire him for his great learning and interest him in turn as a man of action. At any rate, ever since we met — due to the fact that I was able to be of service to him in the matter of killing a couple of ruffians who were assaulting him — we’ve got on amazingly well. I honestly think I can do as much with him as any man in the world, and in this instance I wouldn’t take no for an answer. He grumbled a lot; but he’s a soft hearted old codger really, and when I told him how distressed you were, he yielded.”

  “You’re a good fellow!” Lucius told him. “Shall we go now?”

  Captain Face flicked an eye at the bottle we hadn’t yet started on. “I wouldn’t advise going for another half-hour. We mustn’t impose on the old boy’s good nature, you know, and he always sups late.”

  “I want to give him something — something to help him along with his studies, as you suggested. How much money do you think would be right?”

  “Don’t mention money to him; it’ll hurt his feelings. Give him something he can use in his work.” The captain sloshed his glass full. “I don’t understand these things myself, but it seems that gold is as useful in alchemistry as it is hard for a scholar to come by. In your place I’d give him that ring, say.”

  He was pointing to the valuable piece of jewelry which Miss Lescaut had vainly coveted. “If he just wants the gold, there’s no use bothering him with that chunk of ruby,” I said. “You’d better cut it out, so you can have it reset, Lucius.”

  The suggestion embarrassed Jones. “Why, I can’t do that. I’ll give him the whole thing.”

  “The whole hog or nothing,” Captain Face approved. “However, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll ask the doctor whether he has any use for the stone — if you didn’t ask him, he’d never think of it, he’s so absent-minded — and perhaps he’ll insist on giving it back.”

  That wine was fortified like Gibraltar, but the captain made away with almost the whole bottle in something under thirty minutes. “I’d insist on you gentlemen allowing me to return the courtesy,” he said, as he swallowed the lees, “but I appreciate the fact that Jones here is in a hurry.”

  Getting around Parouart at night is work for moles. The buildings crowded out all benefit of starlight, and the only artificial substitute was an occasional glowing window. Captain Face knew his way, however, and after we had stumbled in his wake along a tangle of alleys, he banged on a door.

  “I always do the right thing by knocking,” he explained, “but nine times out of ten he never hears me. Fortunately he seldom remembers to lock up. Step in, gentlemen.”

  The hall was dark, but at some distance down it there was a streak of light the width of a doorway. In a minute the captain thrust the door itself open. I found myself blinking at the back of a man perched on a high stool. He didn’t turn when we clumped into the room, and Face nudged me in the ribs.

  “A million leagues deep in some calculation,” he chuckled. “He probably forgot to eat tonight.” The captain raised his voice. “Good evening, doctor.”

  The man on the stool turned as if he thought he had heard something but wasn’t quite sure. He had a beard as long and whi
te as that of Santa Claus, and the hair which straggled out from beneath his skull cap matched it. What I could see of his face was long and solemn. His body was swathed in a voluminous dressing gown, incongruously gay with stars and moons of all phases. After peering a while, he descended from his perch and approached.

  “Well, well, a good evening to you, my valiant young friend. I’m glad to see you. Come on over and watch what I’m doing. You’ve been neglecting me lately.”

  “Why, I was here not two hours ago,” Face reminded him, “and I’ve brought the man you promised to see.”

  “What man?” The doctor looked annoyed. “I can’t see anyone now, captain — anyone but you, of course. I’m just on the verge of consummating an important experiment. Tell him to go away.”

  In answer to Jones’ look of concern, the captain tipped him a wink. Then he hooked his arm in that of the old man.

  “Doctor, you’re not going to treat a very special friend of mine like that. And besides, you promised.”

  “Did I really?” The doctor looked worried. “Well, I don’t know that I can help him. We want to know so much, and we actually know so little. But I’ll try.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Lucius said. “I’m sure that my problem, although it seems insoluble to me, will be easy for your wisdom.”

  “It may be so,” the doctor said. “Somebody taught you to have a good tongue. Let’s look at your face. No, come over here by the candle. Yes, a good face and a lucky one, too, or I’ve spent a lifetime of study in vain. Now the hands. No, backs up first, so I can observe their structure.”

  He could thus observe the ring also, but I couldn’t swear that he gave it any attention before he began to examine Jones’ palms. While he was doing so, I took stock of the room we were in. It looked like a blend of a chem lab, a photo dark room, and a pawnbrokers attic. Outside of an antique shop I have never seen so many things I would rejoice not to own, but I wasn’t scornful of the place at that. The doctor had impressed me in spite of myself, and I looked respectfully at the brew bubbling in a glass retort. It smelled bad enough to be an authentic experiment.