The Land Across

by Gene Wolfe

  Naala wanted to know how, and I said, “Two drinks. Remember?” That turned out to be about right. He had a guy in one of the little villages bringing him food, and Martya had found the guy—seen him sneaking off at night with a package—and gotten him to talk.

  After that she had gone to see Russ with the hand in a shopping basket the Unholy Way had given her. He was well then, and he had caught the hand and tried to throw it into the fire, only something had happened then that scared him. So he ran down Martya, who had just left, and talked her over onto his side. There would be money, and he would give her a lot of it, enough to buy pardons for her and Kleon with plenty left over after it. Besides they would knock the props out from under the Unholy Way, and she would get her confession back. He was a magician, too, only a good magician and his magic was stronger than theirs. Eventually, she went over. Then he sent her to Papa Iason with the hand.

  I knew damn well that sooner or later we would have to get out of the car and hike, and it was sooner rather than later. The Frost Forest was big and empty and quiet. Also cold and as dark as black paint because it was on the north side of the mountain. The cop had a flashlight and Martya had a lantern, but the darkness and the cold seemed to press in on us just the same.

  The trees were big and far apart. Their foliage must have been green, but it looked black that night. Most of them did not have limbs until you got three or four stories up. Sometimes it seemed to me like they were just trees, but sometimes it seemed like we were walking over a broken stone floor inside a big, big building with columns all around us, rows and rows of columns that stretched off into the night one hell of a lot farther than I could see.

  Somehow I had always thought forests were more or less level. This one was steep, a mountainside like I said, and there were big rocks and little cliffs between the trees. As far as I could see there were no animals, which figured because there was nothing there for them to eat. I asked Martya if Russ was in a cave, and she looked at me funny and said he had a tent. Before I get into this further, I ought to say that the cop who had driven our car did not like being there with us. Naala had made him come.

  So was another cop. If I have to tell you who that was, you have not been paying attention.

  Let me level with you here. I was expecting to find the man in black with Russ and the prospect scared the crap out of me. He was not there. Nobody else was, either, until we came.

  Papa Iason gave him a special blessing for the sick, and that seemed to help him some. Then we went back to the car, with me holding up one side of him and Papa Iason holding up the other. Russ could walk a little, but it seemed to me he was pretty heavy anyway. Naala had put him under arrest, and promised Papa Iason and me that he would get medical treatment and there would be no rough stuff until he was well.

  Do I have to say that it was a lot slower, and a lot harder, going back than it had been coming? Sure, we were going downhill. But it was steep and we had to be careful not to fall or drop Russ, and by that time I was so tired I could have laid down right where I was and gone to sleep. I had new blisters, too, and the old ones that had burst or I had lanced hurt like hell.

  We were maybe halfway back when it started to get light, not the sun coming up, but a sort of gray light in the sky. That was when it hit me and I knew what was wrong. I said, “He’s a doll!” It came out louder than I had wanted it to.

  Naala wanted to know what I meant and I said I would tell her if we could take a break, set Russ down, and sit down ourselves. So we did.

  “The dolls are magic,” I told her. “You’ve got one, so you know what they’re like. You bought yours from that old man with the pencils.”

  She nodded.

  “They’re magic, and it stands to reason that the bigger they are the more magic there is, right? Yours is little. Those were the kind Russ sold. Only he made a really big one, a doll as big as he is. I don’t know how he got the stuff, but he got it.” Of course I thought I could make a real good guess, but I did not say a word about the man in black. Not then and not ever. On my list of people I did not want to piss off, he was Number One.

  “That doll was to fool anybody who looked into our cell. Also me, even though I was right in there with it. And it worked like a charm because it was a charm, a real one. When I looked over at Russ’s bunk I did not see the doll. I saw Russ. Russ, and no doubt about it.”

  “You are fool,” Naala told me.

  “Sure, and that may have helped, too. So what happened to the doll when Russ was gone? Well, the last time I saw it two JAKA guys had it. One was Butch Bobokis. You know what happened to him.”

  “So. We must find the doll and take it from them.”

  I was standing up and did not answer, and after half a minute or so Naala called, “Where it is you go, Grafton?”

  I said, “Come here, and I’ll show you.” After that I held up both hands and said, “Papa, you come, too.”

  He came, and Martya after him, and after them the two cops, although you could see the one who had driven hated to leave Russ behind.

  About then I heard Naala gasp, and I said, “Yeah,” in English.

  Because the thing all of us had left behind was not Russ Rathaus. It was sort of like a scarecrow, only a lot better. It lay limp on the moss and rocks, and maybe, even from that distance, you might have thought it was a dead man. Only if you looked closer you would have noticed how boneless it was. Later I found out that it had been in the trunk of his car.

  Here I am going to skip a lot more, because what we said and did then does not matter much. Going back to the city, we picked up Rosalee, who had found out from Martya more or less where Russ was supposed to be and was trying to get there. We did not tell her what had happened, just that Russ had gone. I did not want to send her back to prison, so Naala arranged for another female JAKA op to take care of her and Martya. After that, Naala and me finally went to bed. Not the same bed, and no playing around or showers or anything. Naala bolted the door first and disconnected her phone.

  When I woke up it was getting dark again. Naala was sound asleep, but I got dressed and went out. Here is the way I figured it, and since it turned out to be pretty much right I am going to fill you in. Russ had been hiding in the Frost Forest in that tent we found. He had gotten sick—really truly sick—and that was when he had sent Martya into the city to tell his wife and his son. He thought he was going to die, and he wanted to see them before he went.

  While she was away, he remembered the big doll he had made and got wise that it was being used against him. The bigger the doll the stronger it is, just like I figured. But the closer it is the stronger it is, too. So somebody had the doll and knew about where he was. Or else they were taking it all through the forest and happened to get close. Either way, the thing was to get away from it.

  So he had tried, but he had stumbled over it instead, which was even better. The guy who had been using it against him was not there, so Russ had pulled the pins out and taken it back to his tent where he figured it was safe.

  Only nobody came. That was because Rosalee had been really hard to find, and after Martya finally found her, she had probably gone back to the place where she had been staying to get some sleep and a bite to eat before she went off looking for Papa Iason. Back in the forest, Russ had gotten worried.

  Also scared. The Unholy Way had found out where he was, or pretty close. It was a good bet that when they found out the big doll was missing they would do something else. So Russ took off. If he found Martya, fine. He would call her off. If he did not, he could at least make sure the Unholy Way had a tough time finding him.

  That was the way I had figured it, and like I said that was pretty much the way it had been. So where had Russ gone now?

  My first guess was the U.S. embassy and I did not know where it was, but I happened to think of a story of my father’s. This young lieutenant had to get a pole up to hold wires. It was raining, the ground was mud, and he did not know how to do it. So he grabbed a
sergeant and said, “Sergeant! Put up this pole!” Then he walked away.

  Should work for me, right?

  I flagged down a police car, flashed my badge, and said, “Take me to the American embassy.” It worked like a charm. The cop took me to the U.S. embassy, which was maybe a five-minute drive. I said thanks and told him to go back on patrol.

  The problem there was that the embassy was closed, and ringing the bell did not work. Neither did pounding on the door. I snooped around for ten minutes or so, but that got me nowhere. I thought things over, and it seemed to me that the next place to try was Papa Iason’s. I started walking, figuring I would see a cop in a car eventually. My sense of direction is pretty good, and in spite of the odd-sized blocks and the wiggles the streets had to make to accommodate them I knew about where Saint Isidore’s was and kept walking toward it.

  What stopped me was a window with a left hand and a white rabbit painted on it. The old guy was still inside moving things from a high shelf to a lower one, and there was a question I had been wanting to ask him.

  So I went in, gave him a nice smile, and said, “Remember me?”

  He nodded and smiled back. “You will wish to know of the Amerikan magician. He has not been here.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said, “but I’ve got something else to ask you. You know that trick you sold the lady who was with me before? The doll with no face? You put a picture in front of it and it copies the picture. Can you tell me if anybody else in town sells those?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot. Where there has been a crime you find one? I am afraid it comes from my shop. I have sold seven now.” He paused. “Eight it might be. No more than that. I can give the names of some who have bought them, I think…. But not all.”

  Sometimes you can see when somebody gets a new idea. Their face lights up, and they stand a little straighter.

  I said, still very friendly, “You just thought of something. What is it?”

  (Right here I am going to change the rules a little. In this book I have called people by their right names, even though I stuck to first names, mostly, and may not have spelled all of them right.)

  “Magos X,” the old man told me. “He does not sell his dolls, but he has several. Once he tells me he orders from a man in Amerika.”

  I said, “I ought to talk to him. Can you tell me where he lives?”

  He did. So many streets that way and so many streets this way, a big old house that had caught fire once. “His trees are a foreign kind I do not know.” Under his breath he added, “They bear strange fruit.”

  All that sounded interesting. I told him I would pay a call on Magos X but I would not say who sent me.

  “Oh, you may tell. I feel sure he has done nothing wrong, but he may know things of value to you.”

  I tried to follow the old man’s directions and went a little wrong. Those streets will do that to you. But pretty soon I spotted an old house a good bit bigger than the others in the neighborhood, and there were enough streetlights for me to see that part of it had burned.

  I knocked and listened, and knocked again, and finally heard footsteps. They sounded to me like a big man walking quickly, careful not to make a lot of noise.

  The door opened, and I saw a big man with no belly and a big black beard.

  I showed him my badge. “Nothing serious, sir, but I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. All right if I come in?”

  “Oh, most naturally!” He stepped to one side, smiling a little. “I warn that I may keep you. Few come here, nor are they intelligent. I have, um … the hundred-year brandy. Wine, naturally, some not very bad. Milk and coffee.”

  The coffee sounded good, and I said so as I stepped inside.

  “Already is late. Perhaps you do not sleep.”

  “Fine with me. I’m going to work all night, if I can find enough work to do.”

  He chuckled. “Come, then.”

  We went toward the back of the house and down a few steps into the kitchen. Once in a while I heard a board creak under his weight, but his feet made no noise at all.

  “My kitchen you do not mind, I hope, operator? There is also a parlor wherein I speak with those I do not like.”

  “I’m glad you like me, sir.”

  “I and the ghost. Of you we two are fond. You are not unaware you possess this ghost?”

  I said, “Sure.”

  “You do not object?”

  “Nope.”

  “You have seen her, it may be?”

  “Can you show her to me, sir? I’d like that.”

  “Very much you know about me.”

  “You know a lot about me, too, sir. That’s how it seems, anyway. Did you know I was coming?”

  “Not I.” He had gone to the sink. He opened a tap while he spoke, filling an old percolator with water. “I knew someone was coming, because I know such things. I did not know it was to be so young a man with a badge, a gun, and a ghost. A young man who fights.”

  He turned to look at me, his mustache twitching. “Do not feel surprise. I see your knuckles. A bad fight?”

  I thought back. “Depends on which one you mean, I guess.”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah, you’re good at that, sir. Can you see my ghost?”

  He nodded.

  “Will you show her to me?” The hand was climbing out of my pocket. I could feel it, and I was tempted to catch it and stop it.

  “Now not. Later it may be.” He set the percolator on the stove and spooned in coffee. “A dish of fruit? I do not have much.”

  I waved it off. “Not now, thanks. Later maybe. If I get to eating, I’ll forget what I came here for.”

  He sat down at the table with me, and I started to say something about not wanting to make trouble for him. I stopped when I saw the hand run across the table and roll over on its back.

  He stared. Whatever he might have been expecting, it was not that. Then the mustache twitched. He picked up the hand, very delicately. He had big, strong hands and long fingers. He held the hand as if it were porcelain and might break, raised it to his lips, and laid it gently back down on the table.

  That was when I saw her, just for half a second maybe. A tall girl with long hair and a good face. She did not look dead, but her dress did. As soon as I saw her, she knew I was seeing her and smiled.

  It kind of paralyzed me. All I could do was stare. Then she was gone, and the hand was back in my pocket.

  Magos X said, “She likes you, operator. That is most fortunate.”

  I just sat there. After a while the percolator began to bubble, and that kind of brought me out of it.

  He got up and got mugs for us, and poured cream into a little pot-bellied pitcher.

  I said, “You’re the real thing, sir.”

  “Do not ask me to tell your fortune.”

  “Okay, sir. I won’t. Thanks for letting me see the lady.”

  “I did not do it. You did it.”

  “Really? You’re not kidding me?”

  “I do not play such games. You speak with our tongue most supplely.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “For what do you come here?”

  “You’ve got a guest, sir. His name’s Russell Rathaus. He’s a friend of mine, and I need to talk to him.”

  “Let us imagine that I tell you I have no guest. What then?”

  “It would be a lie, sir, and you don’t like to lie.”

  “You are correct. I do not.”

  “Suppose I were to ask you a question you didn’t want to answer. Would you lie to me, sir?”

  I was looking for the twitching mustache that meant a smile, but the big shoulders went up and down instead. “I might, operator.”

  “Who is the Undead Dragon?”

  That got me the twitch. “I do not have to lie, or even remain silent, which I prefer. I do not know.”

  “Do I?”

  “You think I am he, operator? I am not.”

  I shook my head. “I never thou
ght that, sir. You would’ve killed Russ, not hidden him. I’m just asking because I think I know, and I thought you might know if I really do.”

  “You will tell me?”

  I shook my head again. “I don’t think I’d say even if I was sure, and I’m not. It’s just what I think.”

  “Someone you would not willingly slander, then.”

  “I wouldn’t willingly slander anybody, sir.”

  “You may slander me, if you wish. Many have. What I ask is that you do not arrest me.” Magos X looked dead serious when he said that. Serious may not be the right word, but it is as close as I can come. He looked like he was not going to be arrested without a fight, and he had ways of fighting most people had never even heard of.

  I said, “Arrest you for hiding Russ? Hell no!”

  “You would like coffee. I will get it.” He stood up, took the percolator off his old cast-iron stove, and poured us each a cup. “You do not fear I may poison you?”

  I shook my head. “You wouldn’t do that, sir. You’re not the type.”

  “Many think I am.”

  “They’re wrong.” I had heard a noise somewhere in the house just before I said that. Russ was coming to listen, or that was how I figured it.

  “You seek Russell Rathaus? This you say.”

  “That’s right. Russ was in prison. You probably know that. He escaped. You—”

  “How he does this you know?” Magos X was staring at me like he wanted to hypnotize me.

  I was not about to let him do it. “If I do, I’m not telling.”

  “Proceed, operator.”

  “Russ is a friend of mine, like I said. We were cellmates for a pretty long time. I’m American, too.”

  “This I knew. Also JAKA. They know you were in their prison?”

  I nodded. “They know, too, that I didn’t really do anything. I made some broadcasts for the Legion of the Light—”

  That was as far as I got. Magos X started laughing, and it was like a lion laughing, roaring and rocking in his chair. It about knocked out the windows.

  When he finally stopped he said, “You are that one! I know I hear sometime the voice. It is you on the radio.”