The Sorcerer's House

by Gene Wolfe

  "Think I'm afeared of your popgun, fool?"

  I pulled back the cock. "You had better be."

  "They call me Ironskin." He advanced, still grinning, and I pulled the trigger. The priming powder flared in the pan, but the pistol did not fire.

  The fat woman on the floor shrieked, "Shoot! Shoot!" and the dwarf stopped to laugh.

  It enraged me, Millie, as few things in my life ever have. I dropped the useless pistol into my pocket, and pointed both index fingers at him as though I held modern revolvers. I intended to shout, but perhaps I screamed--I cannot be sure. "Get out of here, you devil! This is my house! Out! I don't want you here!" With much, much more in the same vein.

  The blood drained from his face, leaving it a dirty gray. He backed away. "Sorry, sir! I meaned no harm! No harm at all!" He took a few more steps backward, knuckling his forehead, and fled. I ought to have been amazed, but I was raging and there was no room for it.

  Behind me, Doris gasped, "Bax! What the hell. . . ?"

  We helped the fat woman to rise. I expected tears, but she looked every bit as warlike as I felt. "Do you know me, Mr. Dunn?"

  I shook my head. "I haven't had the pleasure."

  "We've met, Mr. Dunn, but it was in the spirit world. I am Madame Orizia."

  "Of course! I apologize. I should have known you at once."

  "You saved me from that beast, Mr. Dunn. I could not be angry even if you deserved it. To prove my gratitude, I will charge no fee. None! I must ask you to compensate my travel costs, however. My straitened circumstances require it."

  "They're not refundable," I said.

  "Precisely." She was asking my indulgence.

  Doris said, "I'm Doris Griffin," and the two women shook hands.

  Madame Orizia managed a rather savage smile. "Let us hope we meet again under more pleasing circumstances."

  "I'm in real estate, and I've been told over and over that this house is haunted. I never believed it." Doris turned to me. "Could we have the boy next time, Bax? The one who drops things? I think I'd like him better."

  "I'm sure you would." I sighed. "I'd rather have his brother. His brother had that fellow chained up, though he seems to have broken his chain." I was shaking, and tried to relax.

  We found Cathy Ruth at the back of the room, securely bound with scraps of rope and strips of rag. The big camp knife I had bought as I would have bought cufflinks proved its worth again; I might have used it earlier to threaten the dwarf, but that thought had never crossed my mind.

  Cathy whispered to Doris, and Doris said, "He raped her. We've got to get her to a hospital."

  I agreed. An unbroken door promised an exit from the room. I was leading the three women toward it when it was thrown wide by Winker. Cathy screamed, Doris cursed, and Madame Orizia grunted.

  Winker knelt, bowed her head, and held out a pillow of scarlet silk upon which rested an ancient sword. "This is for you."

  Madame Orizia gasped and gripped my arm. "Is that a spirit?"

  I was too unsettled to be polite. "Of course not!"

  Winker looked up. "It is a blade of spirit, Bax-san. It's the Fox Sword. I present it to you. Accept it, please."

  I did and she rose, tucking the pillow beneath her arm. "This is a new reign. There's a new emperor now."

  "What emperor?" I wanted to draw the sword and examine it, but good manners prevented me.

  Winker ignored my question. "Once in each reign we present the Fox Sword to a hero-friend."

  It made me stammer, Millie. I will not write all the stammering, but stammer I did. "I'm your friend, Winker--God knows I'm your friend, but--"

  Doris told me loudly, "And a hero!"

  Madame Orizia whispered, "You may not refuse the gift. Who is this geisha?"

  Winker's eyes twinkled. "This was the weapon of the Great Fox when the Kami were young. The weapon of many a hero."

  Cathy said, "Oh, God! He got my camera."

  I put the other pistol into another pocket, and Winker helped me position the long Japanese sword we put through my belt, edge up.

  We might readily have become lost in the house if Winker had not hurried us back to the familiar butler's pantry, and from there to the living room and out through the reception room and across the porch onto the dark front lawn.

  Doris said, "I'm going to drive Cathy to the hospital. Okay?"

  I nodded and thanked her.

  "Then I'm going home for a stiff drink." She paused. "A shower. And bed. I'll phone you in the morning."

  Madame Orizia pointed. "That is my car, which I have rented at the airport. If you could kindly lend me--lend m-m-me . . ."

  I put my arm around her shaking shoulders. I was filthy and she was naked, and we must have looked like fools, which is what the dwarf had called me; but it did not feel foolish at the time.

  The old man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "We must procure some covering for the lady, sir."

  I nodded, and he called, "Toby!"

  It brought my footman, who proved to be short, wiry, and very erect. I said, "Thank you, Toby. I appreciate your help, and I'm sure Madame Orizia here does, too."

  A fresh car pulled into the driveway, blocking Doris, who had just bundled Cathy into hers. She yelled, "What the (expletive deleted) is this?"

  "It's George," I told her. "It's my brother George." I had recognized him, thanks to the interior lights that came on in his car when he got out. I tried to hug him, which he would not permit.

  "Who the hell are all these women, Bax?"

  Doris yelled, "We've met already and I'd rather not do it again. Move your goddam car so I can take this girl to the emergency room." When he ignored her, she backed up until her bumper banged his and made a U-turn on my front lawn, driving over it to Riverpath Road.

  Tightly buttoned into one of my shirts, Madame Orizia would clearly have liked to present George with her card. "You are the husband of Mrs. Dunn. I am her psychic. You may require a psychic, George Dunn."

  He stared at her, then looked around at the dark lawn and darker house. "There was a Jap girl here, too. What happened to her?"

  "I am staying at the Hilton," Madame Orizia told him. "You, also, are staying at the Hilton. Should you desire to consult me, you can ask the hotel operator to connect us. Should I be gone--"

  "Balls! Why the hell should I need a psychic?"

  "Because you are this man's brother. Because you stand here, before this house of his."

  I said I would ask George to move his car so she could get out.

  "You need not trouble. To me this is of professional interest, I think."

  If I had been wearing a hat, I would have removed it. "You are a formidable woman, Madame Orizia."

  "My profession requires it, Mr. Dunn."

  "What in the hell's going on here?" George wanted to know.

  "Madame Orizia ventured into the house alone and was nearly raped by a dwarf," I explained. "It was a harrowing experience, I'm sure."

  "I came," Madame Orizia said. "This servant let me in. I set out in search of psychic vibrations. You know the rest."

  The old man cleared his throat. "I told her, sir, that you were in another part of the house. I seated her in our parlor, sir, and went into our kitchen to prepare tea. When I returned with it, she had gone." He coughed politely. "I attempted to communicate the occurrence via telephone, sir, but--"

  "But mine was out of service. Switched off. You're right, it was."

  George was examining the back of the limousine. He tapped the trunk. "What's in this thing, Bax?"

  I said, "I have no idea. I intend to open it tomorrow morning."

  "Why tomorrow? Why not now?"

  "Because I believe it wiser to open it when we have daylight."

  "You've got something alive in there. I can hear it moving around."

  Here I made a mistake, Millie, and it proved to be a bad one. I said, "I have nothing in there, and this is not your car."

  George unbuckled the big straps and
threw open the rusty clasps faster than I would have believed possible.

  Madame Orizia gasped. "Ahhh . . ." For a moment, that was the only sound--or at least, the only sound that I remember.

  An instant later the trunk flew open, and a man like a tall skeleton in rusty black jumped out. The skin was so tightly stretched over his face that it seemed it must tear; only his eyes were alive.

  No. His eyes were more than alive. Will you grasp what I am saying, Millie, if I say they flamed?

  He bowed to us as a marionette might bow. His voice was iron on iron. "I am Nicholas, the butler." Awaiting no reply, he marched into the house.

  I heard someone whisper, "Good God . . .," and only later did I realize that the whisperer had been me.

  George grabbed a handful of my filthy shirt. "You set this up, you bastard!"

  I shook my head.

  "You know it and I know it." His face was within half an inch of mine. I felt his spittle. "You and your crazy stories!"

  The old man laid a hand on his arm. "Please contain yourself, sir."

  George pushed him aside. "I'm going to catch that bastard and get the truth out of him." He sprinted into the house, and it was only then that I realized I had begun to draw the sword Winker had presented to me.

  Toby and I searched for George for hours, Millie, but we did not find him; and at last I bathed and went to bed so utterly exhausted that I could scarcely stand.

  Now it is morning, and I am still in bed. Thanks to old Nick, I have breakfasted on soft-boiled eggs, toast, and three cups of very good coffee; and I have been writing to you for half the morning. The old man brought me paper and this pen, and I brace the empty tray upon my knees.

  George is gone, and only God knows where. I must find him, and I will. I am still tired, but I have lingered too long in bed already.

  Ever your loving friend,

  Bax

  Number 32

  A REQUEST

  Hey, Prof!

  Got your letter and all the stuff. I owe you, man. Anything you want, ever. I gave Vicki your address and told her to get in touch if she needs some money.

  Could you send me some pencils and paper with lines on it? Writing stuff is tough to get here.

  Nothing new about the Greek. I have feelers out, but nothing so far.

  You asked about guns. I do not know one thing about the kind you have. I seen them in movies, but movies hardly ever get stuff right.

  But a gun is a gun. Hold it tight. The tighter you can hold without your hand shaking, the better. You have got to be fast but not fumble. Take your time, but do not waste any time doing it. It is grip, front sight, and trigger when you shoot. Get all three right, and there is not a lot of people who will beat you. Hold it tight, put your front sight on him, and pull back the trigger fast without jerking it. Practice can be good or bad. It is good if you do it right, bad if you do not. A lot will burn up three boxes of ammo and think they have learned, but in a fight it is the first shot that counts. Do not miss. Do not stall around. Shoot smooth and fast. Where did it go?

  Sheldon Hawes

  Number 33

  ON THE HOME FRONT

  Dear Bax,

  Your last letter got me very, very upset. You started by saying that George was gone, then told me all those other things about you and the dwarf. When I read the end I understood that you were telling me that George might be in a lot of danger.

  You were still tired when you wrote all of that, so I understand. But you are worrying way too much. George can take care of himself. In fact, he can talk his way out of just about anything. I ought to know.

  It is you I worry about, Bax. Not about the dwarf or any of that, but about all those women. You are not used to dealing with women. How could you be? We women say that men are only interested in one thing and what we mean is you know what. But a lot of single women are interested in just one thing too. Only it is not the same thing.

  You must keep that in mind, Bax. For my sake. Think of me. I am enclosing my picture so that you can. I am not a good talker or a good letter writer either, I know. So I am going to let my picture talk for me.

  Do you like it? I hope so.

  I think a bathing suit should cover up a person more than that one does. I like a one-piece suit with a cute little skirt. But George made me take that one so he could show me off. I am his trophy wife. That is what he said.

  Well, I do have a nice figure even if it is a little bit too big in certain places. That is what Brenda says. (She sews my dresses.) A lot of the girls did not like me at Mount Holyoke and made jokes about blondes. As if I would not know that I had to buy a ticket.

  But my grades were bad, and that helped. Except for Prof. Foley, who gave me good ones in Women's Studies. She was really down on all men and wanted to hold my hand so I let her.

  Then my father told me to marry a rising executive in a growing industry, so I married George. I felt I could not go against my father after he left me so much.

  Now I am here in this big house, all alone and lonesome except for Fluffy Cat and my maid. (Her name is really Maria Josefa, but I just call her Maria.) So when you look at my picture, Bax, please remember how much I would like to talk to you. If you wanted to hold my hand, I would not pull away. But do not tell George that.

  The skip up here means I stopped writing because lunch was ready and Madame Orizia phoned. She has never phoned me before and I do not know how she got my number. She told me a lot, especially about George. I do not think she really likes him but she would not say that. I explained that I do not, either, but she still would not say it. She had seen him in the lobby. She had seen you in a trance, so she thought George was you! When she saw George, she wondered what you were so mad about!

  She thinks that house is dangerous and you ought to move out right away. So do I.

  Fondly,

  Millie

  Number 34

  FOX AND WOLF

  Dear Millie:

  "How did you know?" That was Doris on the telephone, and it was (as you will soon see) the question that roused me from my lethargy.

  At the time I could only ask her, "Know what?"

  "Who one of the mourners at Skotos's funeral was. I--I'm going to be honest about this. I peeked, Bax. Okay, I know I promised I wouldn't, but I got so damn curious. Now you get to say you'll never trust me again."

  "All right, I'll never trust you again. Do I have to mean it?"

  "No. Anyway, after I'd read the name I thought no way, he's really lost it this time. So I grabbed the next chance I had to talk to Jim--his door is always open and all that crap--and asked him about the funeral. He said, 'The other two besides me? I can't be sure. It's been three years.'

  "So I said, 'everybody in the company marvels at your memory, sir,' and laid it on really thick. Finally he said, 'I've got them now. One was a man I didn't know.'

  "I asked if it was the lawyer, but he said no. 'Just a little guy I'd never seen before, Doris. I don't believe I've seen him since, either.' Now you're going to tell me who that was."

  I said, "No. I could tell you who I think it was, but I could be wrong and it would be pointless. So I won't. I take it that Mr. Hardaway named someone eventually?"

  "That's right. He said the other one was a woman he knew, somebody in the business, but he couldn't think of her name. When he said that, I felt like kissing you. And kicking you afterward, too, for not telling me last night."

  I said, "I did tell you. I wrote it--"

  "Okay, I peeked. He couldn't think of her name, he said, but she had a little one-woman shop now. So I said, 'And she attended Alexander Skotos's funeral, sir? Is she involved with the will?' He said no, and he had no idea why she showed up for the funeral, but her name was Martha something."

  When I heard that I was no longer tired, Millie.

  Doris continued. "I couldn't hold it in any longer and there was really no reason to, so I said, 'Would that be Martha Murrey, sir?' and he snapped his fingers and said that wa
s it. Now who was the third one, the short man?"

  I said, "I hope to be able to tell you today. Not a guess, but a certainty."

  Here I was interrupted by old Nick, Millie. You will get our conversation in its proper place.

  After having my suspicion confirmed by Doris, I bathed again, shaved and dressed, called a cab, and visited the public library and the county courthouse, where a twenty-dollar bill convinced a clerk that I was in serious need of her assistance.

  Then, in an unaccustomed burst of genius, I revisited the elderly woman who had loaned me her mower and given me dinner. "I hope you can help me, Mrs. Naber," I said after a few preliminaries. "You told me once that you'd lived here all your life."

  She nodded. "I have. I've lived here ever since I was born."

  "There was a lady named Murrey--that's Murrey with an E--who used to live in my house. I've found something that belongs to her. It's valuable, and I'd like to return it. Have you ever known anyone with that name?"

  She laughed. It is always pleasant to hear an old person laugh when there is real humor in it; or at least I have found it so. "Have I known anybody of that name? Why, at first I thought you meant me, Mr. Dunn. Murray was my name, but with an A." She spelled it. "I'm perfectly sure that there's never been a family here who spelled it the other way. I'd have known about them. Would you like to see a picture of my family?"

  Of course I said I would, and five minutes later I was blessing the wonderful mother who had adopted George and me and taught me to be polite. The Murrays stood before me in black-and-white, preserved through so many decades in their sturdy silver frame: the parents stiffly erect but smiling, their twin daughters relaxed and giggling despite starched white dresses. It did not seem possible, but as I studied their faces I grew increasingly confident. "You were a twin! An identical twin? I'm one myself."

  "An identical twin? Are you really, Mr. Dunn?"

  "I certainly am, Mrs. Naber. I am the evil twin, and my brother George is the good twin. I am harebrained and poetic, you see, while George is solid and reliable."