The Sorcerer's House

by Gene Wolfe

  She smiled, God bless her. "Harebrained, poetic, and kind. Yes, we were twins, Mr. Dunn. Perfect likenesses. Martha and Thelma. I'm Thelma."

  It took very little urging to get Mrs. Naber to show me her wedding pictures. Though blond, the blushing bride might easily have been a somewhat younger Martha Murrey. While longing with all my heart to hug Thelma Naber, I said as casually as I could, "I couldn't help noticing that your sister wasn't one of your bridesmaids. I hope nothing happened to her."

  The tears that filled Mrs. Naber's faded blue eyes made me wish I had held my tongue. "Did something happen to her? Yes, I'm afraid something did, Mr. Dunn. She . . ."

  "She isn't dead, I hope?"

  "Dead? I've no way of knowing. She eloped, Mr. Dunn. I found her packing one evening. We shared a bedroom."

  I nodded. "I understand."

  "She said Mamma and Papa would never approve of the man, but she was going to marry him just the same. I watched out the window hoping to see him, but I never did. After that I kept thinking she'd write, or phone if they lived close. But there was never a word from her. I have just one hope. You're a twin, too? It's what you said."

  "I am. George and I are identical twins."

  "When one twin dies, the other one dies, too. Not at the exact same time, but not long after. Sometimes there's a medical cause or else an accident, and sometimes there isn't. I suppose you know about it."

  "I've read about it, yes. It doesn't always happen, but it's not uncommon."

  Mrs. Naber nodded, I would guess mostly to herself. "You've read it, so you know. Well, I'm not dead, am I? I'm getting close to ninety, Mr. Dunn. There aren't but a few people my age left, but I'm still here. So I think most likely Martha is, too. Not here in Medicine Man, but somewhere."

  "I think so, too," I told her. Out of honesty I had to add, "Perhaps she's even here in town."

  After that I got another cab and called on Martha Murrey.

  Her smile faded when she saw my face, but she asked me to come in. "It's much too late for breakfast, I'm afraid, and I just finished lunch. I could fix something for you, if you want it."

  I shook my head. "I want something you offered me when you gave me breakfast. You offered to show me the instructions Mr. Black had left with you. May I have a look at them now, please?"

  She got them without a word, a single handwritten sheet. I glanced at it and handed it back.

  "You were so hungry that morning. I knew you couldn't have been eating regularly."

  "You're right," I said.

  "I thought you'd return soon--that you'd come back and I'd get to fix you another meal. Only the next time your face was all bruised. Remember?"

  "I do. I've been grateful ever since."

  "I saw the ring then, so that was when I knew with certainty. You know, too, don't you?"

  Her reference to my ring confused me, Millie. For a moment I supposed she meant the gold band that Doris had given me, Ted's old wedding ring.

  "You must know," Martha repeated. "Why don't you say so?"

  "I know very little, Martha. Mostly, that one of your sons needs your help."

  She started to speak but did not, and I said, "Yes?"

  There was a long silence before she said, "I want some coffee. Would you like some?"

  "Your coffee was superb. If it's even half as good as it was the last time, I'd love some."

  She hurried into the kitchen and returned with a tray. This coffee was fully as good.

  "I made it about a quarter of an hour ago, and I'd just finished a nice big cup when you came. This is all there is, I'm afraid."

  "That's a great pity."

  "Coffee lasts half an hour or so. That's all. After that, you've got to throw it out and make fresh. I could make a fresh carafe, I suppose, if you want more."

  "You're very kind," I said.

  "I try. Won't you tell me which son it is?"

  At that I relaxed. "It's Emlyn."

  "Really? I--oh, never mind. You're going to say . . ."

  "To say what?" I waited, but she only shrugged.

  At last I said, "Will you help him?"

  "I will if I can. How did you know?"

  Sipping coffee, I collected my thoughts. "People must grow old more slowly there."

  "They don't grow old at all, Bax. No one does. You don't mind my calling you Bax?"

  "Of course not. Your sister Thelma's still alive."

  "I know." Martha nodded.

  I said, "Could you telephone her? Just once? Or write her a note? It would mean the world to her."

  "If I promise, will you tell me how you knew? My promise is good, believe me." Martha sighed. "I'm a bad woman, I know. But I keep my promises."

  It felt good to smile then. "Substitute 'man' for 'woman,' and I could have said that. I try to keep mine, too, which is all any of us can do."

  She nodded gratefully.

  "You said you would promise. Do you?"

  "Yes, I do. I can swear by river and tree, grass, wind, and hill if you want."

  "It won't be necessary, but I want you to promise something more. Promise that you'll tell me what I don't know, what I missed. If you'll do that, I'll help you save Emlyn. I'll do everything I can."

  "I won't ask if that's a promise," Martha said. "I can see you'd do it anyway."

  I shrugged, knowing she was right.

  "We have an agreement, but you have to speak first. Now tell me, Bax, and you can ask me whatever you want to afterward."

  "There is one question I want to ask first, because the answer may save me a great deal of talking. I think that Zwart Black and Alexander Skotos are the same person. Am I correct? If I'm wrong, then I don't know anything."

  Martha nodded. "You aren't wrong. How did you know?"

  "I guessed, that's all. I came here, and you told me a mysterious Mr. Black wanted me to have his house. It wasn't true. You gave me the house, and I thank you for it. But until very recently I believed you."

  "I understand. You don't know why I did it?"

  "No. Nor do I know why you said that Mr. Black was my benefactor."

  "I think I'm going to tell you, Bax. But not now."

  "Then I learned that Alexander Skotos had made me his heir. I asked some questions, and it seemed that Skotos had appeared about the same time that Black had vanished. I've studied Greek and knew that 'skotos' means darkness. I found Greek coins--valuable coins--in an old escritoire in the attic of the house that had been Black's. Clearly he had been interested in the Greeks, and had been rich enough to drop those coins into a drawer and forget them." I made some futile gesture. "It didn't prove anything, I know. But it seemed likely the two were the same."

  "They were. Go on."

  "I tried to get descriptions of both. Skotos was easy because a man named Jim Hardaway had known him well. Then I came across a woman who'd seen Black several times and told me about the last. He was with a woman who sounded very much like you. The description she gave me of Black checked reasonably well with Jim Hardaway's description of Skotos."

  "You said that I was the one who gave you the house." Martha sounded thoughtful. "That was right, too. How did you know?"

  "This morning I did something I ought to have done a long time ago--I looked into GEAS, the company that had owned the house before I did. It had been incorporated in this state, and I found a list of its officers on one of the computers at the library without much trouble. Vice president, Z. Black. Secretary and treasurer, Alexander Skotos. President and CEO, Martha Murrey."

  "I see." It was a whisper.

  "Alexander Skotos left me a cased set of dueling pistols. You didn't know about them?"

  She shook her head.

  "I can see it bothers you."

  She waved my remark aside. "Go on."

  "There was a note from him in the bullet box. I've done time--been imprisoned. That doesn't surprise you?"

  "No. I knew it."

  "Then you know I'm telling the truth. It's hard to make friends in p
rison, because most of us are people we wouldn't want for friends. I made two, however, and one is a forger. He knows a lot about handwriting and taught me a good deal. The note you showed me was signed by Zwart Black, but the writing was nothing like Skotos's. To me it looked feminine, confirming what I had concluded when I saw that you were the CEO of GEAS. You were my benefactor, and I'll always be grateful."

  "I wish I could believe that," Martha said.

  "No doubt you know more than I." I paused, waiting for her to speak again. "I've told you what I guessed and how I guessed it, and I'd appreciate some information from you. Was the man you eloped with Zwart Black?"

  She only nodded.

  "He took you, his bride, to the other place. To the place where he lives."

  "To faerie. Yes, he did."

  "Is that really what they call it?"

  Martha shook her head. "That is what I call it."

  I sipped my coffee. It had cooled a little, but it was still very good. "Just out of curiosity, what do they call it?"

  "The real world. Reality."

  "Of course they do--it was a foolish question. Emlyn and his brother are your sons?"

  She nodded and smiled. "Twins run in my family, Mr. Dunn, and--"

  I cut her off. "Go back to calling me Bax, please."

  "I will, if we're still friends."

  "We are," I said. "Friends and allies--or so I hope. I apologize for interrupting you."

  "You did me a great favor. I need to tell you a good deal more before I say what I was about to say. Faerie's a terrible place, Bax. You haven't been there?"

  "I have been, but only once and only briefly. A few hours."

  "It's beautiful. Its rivers run clear and the wind never stinks. There are wonderful mountains and sweeping plains. Mighty forests. Those are what most visitors remember above all, those forests. There are strange and wonderful animals, some of them very beautiful. Nothing ever grows old there." She sighed. "People, animals, and plants--none of them ever grow old there. Never. Do you understand why I fell in love with it?"

  I did, and I said so.

  "I loved it, and I loved him. I suppose I still love him, though I always loved him much more than he loved me."

  I said, "Yet you left him, or he sent you away. Which was it?"

  "He tried to get me to stay, but I wouldn't. He's been trying to get me to come back ever since. That was one of the reasons he's spent so much time here."

  "But you won't?"

  She shook her head. "Faerie is lovely and wonderful, I've probably said that. It's cruel, too, and very, very dangerous. Wouldn't you think that a place where people never age would be overrun with them? That it would have a dense population?"

  "Yes, I certainly would."

  "There's almost no one there. A few people, here and there. Scattered villages, each smaller than the last. Lonely mansions like the one I lived in. Sorcerers who war with sorcerers. Sorcerers who war with witches. Warlocks who war with everyone."

  "No fairies?" I asked. "You called it faerie."

  "They are the fairies, Bax. They are the gnomes and trolls and elves, the satyrs, nymphs, and fauns, and the godlings of a dozen faiths. They are a great many other things, too."

  "Werewolves? I know one. What about werefoxes?"

  "Yes, to both. They kill one another, and from time to time they kill us. There are predatory animals, too. Some of the animals are much more intelligent, and much stronger, than anything in Africa. The more you learn about faerie, the more frightened you become."

  "You ran away?"

  "He wouldn't let me. I wanted to go home and take my babies with me." Martha sighed. "Twins run in my family, Bax, and I had given him twin sons."

  "Emlyn and Ieuan? I've met them both."

  She shook her head. "Finally he said that I could go home, or our sons could. But not both. I know he thought I wouldn't be separated from my babies."

  By that time, Millie, I had understood something that I ought to have understood much sooner. It was hard to speak but I said, "That was what he thought, Mother. But he was wrong."

  "Exactly. I took you both to an orphanage here. I left you there and went back. Can you forgive me?"

  You cannot possibly know how I felt at that moment. I will not try to explain it, knowing that I would be certain to fail. I assured her--assured my birth mother--that there was nothing to forgive, and we embraced and wept.

  That is really all I want to write at present. There is more, but you will get it in another letter. More about my birth mother, and something about the old man.

  Here are the main points, the summary I feel compelled to provide before I close this letter. Martha is George's birth mother, as well as mine. She is your mother-in-law, in other words.

  Emlyn and Ieuan are our brothers, and are as much your brothers-in-law as I am. I hope you can meet them someday, and Martha, too.

  Ever your loving friend,

  Bax

  Number 35

  THE DUELIST

  Dear Shell:

  You asked me for paper and pencils, etc., and I have been kicking myself for not having thought of them. Lord knows I wanted them myself in there. So here you are: lots of envelopes, five lined tablets, a box of #2's, a minisharpener, and a book of stamps. If you need anything else that will get by Charlie, just tell me.

  I know they won't let Lou have anything like this; but if he has something to say to me, I feel sure you will pass it along. Please let him know I have not forgotten him, or the talks we used to have in the metal shop.

  Now I need some advice. I told you about the old guns and shooting the wolf. I shot at a door with one, too. After that I wanted to shoot at a rat. He was a great big bastard and I thought I could not miss, but my pistol would not fire. Since then I have been shooting at bottles in the river. And missing them, for the most part. You used to say, 'Close only counts pitching horseshoes.' I learned how right you were when I was shooting at those floating bottles. I will say this, however. Both pistols fired every time.

  That is because of what I learned when I could not shoot the rat. After I got home I checked my pistol over, and the touchhole (I believe that is what it is called) was clogged with burned powder. There is a pick to clear it screwed into the butt of each gun; they have had work to do from that time until this.

  Continuing today. There is a range outside town. A man I know is a member, and he and I are going out there so I can practice shooting targets with those guns.

  I checked with my brother's lawyer first, and it is all legal. I cannot legally buy or own a gun because of my felony conviction; but the law applies only to modern guns, which means those less than a hundred years old. Antiques are not restricted.

  Come to think of it, I do not think I told you about my brother. He is charged with resisting arrest. (He punched out a nice copchick I know.) He made bail, but now he has disappeared. I do not believe he skipped; it would not be like him. Something has happened to him, Shell, and I wish to God I knew what it was.

  My brother and I do not get along well. I know I have told you much more about that than you ever wanted to know. Now a woman who knew the man who gave me the pistols thinks he did it so my brother and I would use them on each other--that he wanted one of us to kill the other.

  I do not want to believe that, but I am afraid she is correct. I am afraid my brother George may want to fight. He has beaten me so often, and in so many ways, that he is bound to be quite confident. I can refuse, of course; but if I do (and I probably will) I will have to fight anyway, with fists, and feet, and furniture.

  When I shot the door and tried to shoot the rat, I did my best to keep what you told me in mind. I focused on my front sight, gripped the gun tightly, and tried to take my time fast. Any further advice will be welcomed, believe me. I have not the least desire to kill George, although he has never treated me like a brother; but if I must kill George to keep him from killing me I will.

  You will be up for parole in less than a
year. There is a woman here who heads a little company, GEAS Inc. If you think a job offer on that letterhead would help, just let me know.

  Yours sincerely,

  Bax

  Number 36

  WHEREVER YOU ARE

  Dear George:

  You believe I have lost my mind, and perhaps I have. Perhaps writing you when I have no idea where you are is more evidence of it.

  Still, madness has its privileges. I need to unburden myself to you, so I will do it and send it to your dear and loyal Millie, who will keep it for you. Have you ever realized how fortunate you are to have a wife so beautiful and so devoted?

  I have searched for you, believe me, finding rooms I did not know existed and even venturing into faerie. I have Winkle and Toby, who are far more familiar with its dangers than I am, searching there for you now.

  When I gave up my personal search, I had a long talk with the old man. I will try to give you the significant parts. Please read this carefully.

  "I need to quiz you at length," I told him. "Let me say before we start that I'm not a hostile questioner. I like you and you've done a wonderful job, but there are things you know or may know that I need to know, too."

  "No fear, sir. I quite understand."

  "Let me begin with names. You told me once that your name was Nick. Was it the truth?"

  "I did not, sir. I told you only that people called me so, which is the truth."

  "I see. It's not your name?"

  He shook his head. "No, sir. It is not, although I am called that."

  "May I ask your true name, Nick?"

  "You may indeed ask, sir, but I cannot answer. I have none."

  I thought about that, and at last I said, "What is a true name, Nick? What do you understand by 'true name'?"

  "It is the name given at birth, sir." This was said very firmly.

  "If that is the case, I don't know mine, either."

  His voice softened. "You have my sympathy, sir."

  "Thank you. It is one thing not to know one's true name, Nick. It's another to have none. Will you explain?"