Tithe to Tartarus

by John C. Wright

  The dog made a snorting noise that might have been a laugh. “He’s a guy. He is more of a guy than most guys. He’s Gil. Call it off? That’s not going to happen.”

  A shiver of frustration ran through her. A half-buried memory of a thing she recalled having once said surfaced: that her father had lived on the haunted peaks of Shinzan and Honzan, venturing to hunt the namahage with bow and spear by night. Into such a life he commanded his wife should descend from the solemn peace of the celestial city to join him. Yumiko wondered what defect in the masculine spirit prevented men from understanding that danger and bloodshed were undesirable states of affair.

  Yumiko said, “Then he has got to throw the fight or back out after making an excuse. Garlot must remain alive.”

  “Heh. Heh. You are pretty funny. You want Gil to take a dive? To tell a fib? That is not going to happen. So you want Garlot to survive the duel to the death, do you? What? You put a wager on him or something? You don’t want Malen, the lady whose packages you tote on shopping trips, to be sad when her brother gets killed? What is it?”

  “A friend of mine was kidnapped by Garlot. I need him alive to find her.”

  “But if you forget everything, how come you remember your friends? And who is this friend?”

  But then Yumiko remembered Elfine confessing to being a smuggler and how the little blonde had been wary of the police. From what little she had seen of the young Swan Knight, he was not the type who would wink at violations of the law. Yumiko’s intuition was to trust and talk, but her sense of caution told her not to spill secrets whose repercussions she could not guess.

  Instead, she said, “Something bad will happen if the two of them fight. When Wilcolac calls, tell me where the duel will be.”

  “He did not call. He wrote. A challenge letter.”

  “Please tell Gil not to accept!”

  “Too late. He wrote back straight away.”

  “Garlot will kill him!”

  “Nope! Garlot is going to lose and lose in a bad way!”

  “Garlot will cheat!”

  “Then he will fight in a bad way and lose in a bad way.”

  “Tell me where the match will be.”

  The dog wrinkled his muzzle skeptically. “I am not sure you are cleared to know.”

  “Please tell me! It’s important!”

  “Why? What are you planning?” He made a snorting noise in his nose.

  And when she did not answer, he said, “So how does this work? I am supposed to trust you and answer your questions, but not the other way around?”

  She said, “What if I told you something you want to know? As a sign of good faith?”

  The dog said, “Faith is good. That is what Matt says. Good faith must be even better. So what do I want to know?”

  Yumiko said, “Well, what do you want to know?”

  “Tell me what you are planning?”

  “Not that. Something else.”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know!”

  The dog yawned, gaping his jaws and curling his red tongue. “And I do? You’re the one making the offer. Go ahead and offer. Offer away! Offer your mouth off.”

  “Tom is alive and going to be at the Tithing Ground.”

  The dog’s head jerked erect, and his ears stood up. “When?”

  “I don’t know when. Wilcolac will be there also. And a whole cavalcade will escort him. He will see Tom but will not see him. It will give Wilcolac peace of mind for seven years.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I don’t know. These are some things I overheard. Tom is in an enchanted sleep. Lucien Cobweb is not willing to wake Tom and torture him because he is afraid Tom will open his mouth and call on names which they cannot withstand. Tom has a fragment of something called the celestial cerulean around his neck, but Wilcolac does not know how to get a virgin to defile it. How am I doing? Is this something you wanted to know?”

  “You are doing good, Fox. This is all good stuff.”

  “What is the celestial cerulean?”

  “You know how mermaids sometimes collect treasures from sunken ships?”

  “Ah. I’m sorry, no.”

  “The sea-dwellers don’t have fires, so they don’t smelt ore or blow glass, and the only time they see things like gold coins, steel swords, or green bottles is from shipwrecks. Well, the fall of Sarras was like a shipwreck. Cerulean is to land-dwellers like gold or glass is to a mermaid. The word just means any sort of trinket that falls out of a castle in the clouds—any sort of stuff the wind-dwellers make.”

  “Do you know where the Tithing Ground is?”

  The dog cocked his head so that one ear stood up. “I do not know where the Tithing Ground is. I know what it is. It is the boundary between the Night World and the World Which is Darker Than Night. It only appears once each seven years.”

  “I was hoping you knew. It would have been easier.”

  “You are going to go back to the Cobbler’s Club, aren’t you? And put on your other costume? Even though I told you not to? You think you are so super sneaky, you can sneak after the Magician when he leaves to go see Tom? Or not see him. Whatever.”

  The dog’s tone was accusatory. Yumiko felt her pride prick her. She snapped, “So! Is Gil going to fight the Red Knight even though I told him not to? He thinks he is so super knightly that he can win even if Garlot uses magic and cheats?”

  The dog’s ear drooped. “Gil is not as interested in winning as you would think. There is this guy he wants to impress, a guy he has never seen. If he lives, if he dies, that does not matter as long as he lives and dies just like this guy wants him to.”

  “A guy he has never met? You mean King Arthur?”

  “Nope. Some other guy. Your Mom kept his cup.”

  2. Betting A Limb

  “Will Gil kill the Red Knight?”

  “Sure! He is really good with a lance. Were you thinking of betting a limb? I think you humans should have tails. That way you can have something to wag when you are happy. You bare your teeth when you are happy, and that just looks weird. And I saw you dancing in the club. You were trying to wiggle your tail, but it did not look right.”

  Yumiko felt her cheeks growing red, and so she pulled down her mask to hide her face. The dog was apparently getting the better of her in this conversation.

  “Are you covering your face because you are embarrassed? I can smell embarrassment, so there is no point in covering your face.”

  The dog was very definitely getting the better of her in this conversation.

  She said, “I am not sure what else I can offer. Let me ask. If I were a trusted member of Super Action Team Swan, what would you have me do?”

  “You told me who Thursday was. That was helpful.”

  “When did I do that?”

  “In front of that warehouse near the river that smelled like canned broccoli and carrots. The one Thursday blew up.” The warehouse opposite Catoblepas Shipping in Weehawken had been called Mr. Vegetable. It seemed that Ruff remembered the smell but forgot the name on the sign. “You blurted out his name in front of everyone. I laughed about it later because I bet it hurt his feelings. I bet. I bet. But not my tail. I am not betting my tail, no. Gambling is stupid!”

  She said, “I know other names. Euhemerus Cobweb is Sunday, Lord of Ghosts, for it is in his name that the shadow of the Hunter King, named Le Maudit in life, was summoned. A man named Zahack is one of the Anarchist Lords. He has twisted snakes instead of hands. Another one is Rotwang.”

  The dogs ears perked up. “Rotwang Cobweb? You know him?”

  “Yes. He is the one who built the Iron Mole Machine that Tom and I rode to break into the Tower of Glass. Tom stole it from him. He has a prosthetic for a hand. Is that the one?”

  The dog shook his head. “Tom is apprenticed to Rotwang. For years, Rotwang has been teaching Tom how to be a mad scientist and to use both unnatural magic and dangerous technology together, mixing the two in order to meddle wi
th nature is ways man was never meant to venture, combining them into an abomination of awesomeness!”

  “Did you say abomination of… awesomeness?”

  “That is how Tom described it. Did you know he made his own crater on the moon? Sort of by accident. A big one. He said he named it after you.”

  “That is so sweet!” She clasped her hands together before her bosom, wondering at the pounding of her heart. “He named it after me?”

  “Sure did!” the dog nodded. “Yummy Cutie Crater.”

  “Is it normal for an amnesiac girl to want to kill her boyfriend she does not remember?”

  The dog said, “If it is Tom, then, yeah, I think it is. It really is. Anyway, don’t go around telling people that Rotwang is an Anarchist. That is pretty top secret stuff.”

  “But he is an Anarchist. He is the one who hid the moon-door aboard the Iron Mole. Wilcolac told you so!”

  The dog scratched. “And Gil says Willy was telling the truth. That let you off the hook.”

  “Off the hook? You think I smuggled the armies of Anarchists into the Glass Tower?”

  “Yup. Or we used to. You were the obvious suspect.”

  “But—but that’s insane! Winged Vengeance is the one who closed the moon-door and cut off their retreat so that the elfs would kill them all. Why would I have smuggled an Anarchist army into the Glass Tower if I am the disciple and sidekick of Winged Vengeance?”

  “What do you mean? Why would you be sneaky, and trick Tom into taking you along, and be sneaky, and trick the Anarchists into following you, and be sneaky again, and trick the Anarchists into a spot where they would be cut off from all escape, and die? You really don’t remember what you and the vigilante are like, do you?”

  Underneath her mask, she scowled. “I seem not to have been very admirable.”

  “It’s because you are a fox. They are mean and sneaky.”

  “I am a girl.”

  “You don’t act much like one.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Crawling around in the dark killing people from behind! It is ugly when girls fight. Turns them mean and sneaky, like foxes. It is almost as if you don’t like it. Now, Gil, he likes fighting. Got him kicked out of school and everything! You should get a man to do your fighting for you.”

  “I am trying to find mine. I wish you would help me. Where is this duel taking place?”

  3. Choosing a Side

  “Well, well. I should not tell you, but I will. Atop the Brooklyn Bridge. Noon tomorrow. Which is today, I guess, since it is after midnight.”

  “The Brooklyn Bridge? You’re kidding me.”

  “I am dogging you. Only goats kid.”

  “What?”

  “They have to pick a famous spot because the Black Spell is weaker there. The Anarchists are expecting Garlot to win, and they want the rumor that no one can beat them to be spread far and wide across the Twilight World in story and song.”

  “What about the traffic? All the Daylight folk?”

  “They will remember some other event, like a bomb scare or something. And if the Anarchists cannot arrange for the city of New York to close a bridge, they should give up being secretly in control of the world.”

  “I thought the elfs were secretly in control of the world.”

  “Well, the elfs are kind of like evil cowboys herding mankind into the slaughterhouse door, and the Anarchists are kind of like evil foxes preying on the livestock, trying to start a stampede.”

  “What about the half-and-halves? People like me?”

  “The Mustardseeds are on the side of Alberec, the Cobwebs are on the side of Erlkoenig, the Peaseblossoms are not allowed to leave the Third Hemisphere, and the Moths are not allowed to enter. The Anarchists are mostly Cobwebs, but not all of them, and they are not on anyone’s side.”

  “Who is on the side of mankind?”

  “Gil. Me. Matthias. Tom, if we can find him. Whose side are you on?”

  “Tom,” she said. “I want to be at his side.” She pushed back her mask and wiped her cheeks with the palm of her glove.

  “Are you crying? You did not used to do that. I mean, I only saw you three or four times, but I am a good judge of character. You are not the type who cries.”

  “What type am I?”

  “The type who shoots people from cowardly ambush, watches them die without offering them a drink or a mercy killing, then leaves the body to rot without so much as a polite note to the widow. Pretty cold, really. You are not a nice person. Are you different? What happened to you?”

  “I died. I was dead.”

  “What? For real? Or is this like a figure of speech?”

  “Yes. Both. Maybe. I am not sure.”

  The dog rose to all fours, shook himself, and said, “Brr! Well, at least I know now what Tom sees in you.”

  A giddy sensation passed through her. “Really? What? Tell me!”

  “Same reason he likes atomic piles, and walking on the moon, and strapping a rocket to his back. He likes everything weird and dangerous.”

  4. What He Sees in You

  She scowled. “He likes me because I am weird and dangerous?”

  “And you are nubile, fertile, and fecund as well as being youthful, virginal, voluptuous, and luscious. I am sure the skintight black suit helps, too. Next best thing to having black fur. Also, you have bright eyes and white teeth. That is a sign of health.”

  She rubbed her temples, angry at the sensation of warmth rising in her cheeks. “I really have no memory of why I liked this guy. Are you sure he liked me? Aside from my teeth.”

  “And your hair!” said the dog cheerfully. “A shiny pelt is also a sign of health. He talked about your hair a lot. Because it is long. Men do not have hair like dogs do, and so you miss it. Human psychological problems are related to you being bald all over. That’s my theory. Also, he is in heat. He is a boy. Boys are always in heat year round. It means your litters come at all seasons, which I frankly think is a mistake. What if you have whelps in the winter, when food is low? I betcha never thought about that; I betcha. Huhn! Did you ever think about that?”

  “No, I honestly can say I have no memory of ever contemplating that particular aspect of human reproductive tactics. Thank you. Did he say anything else about me?”

  “I was going to be the best man.”

  “Wait—so he did ask me to marry him?” She began breathing hard, clutching her throat. “What did I say? Did I say yes?” And then she blurted out, “I knew it! I knew it!”

  “Uh. Uh. What was the question again?”

  “Am I married? Am I engaged? What happened?”

  “Gee, I dunno. He was going to ask you, but then he disappeared. But he was serious about it. He drew up plans for your honeymoon cottage. He never told anyone but me. I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “Where is this honeymoon cottage?”

  “On the drawing board.”

  “What did it look like? Did it have roses?”

  “Nope. No roses. It was round. Round like a ball. But it did have had graviton-powered mass drivers evenly spaced around the hull. Each one could both produce thrust and act as orbit-to-surface megaton-strength kinetic bombardment weapon. It was sweet!”

  “Pardon me? Did you say hull?”

  “You cannot have a honeymoon on the moon without a space-traveling bathysphere. It’s got to be airtight. There is no air there. On the moon. The hull keeps the air in.”

  Yumiko gritted her teeth. “I have to find him. Just to prove that he is real. No one could do what he does.”

  “Funny. He said the same about you when you two first met.”

  “How did we meet?”

  “I was not there. I only heard about it. You crashed in through the upper window of a restaurant on top of a skyscraper and shot a bunch of gangland crimelords with arrows, and you stuck knives into a few more. And there was a lot of tear gas, but Tom keeps a breathing apparatus in his fountain pen. He was handcuffed to a chair but cut his w
ay free with the rotary hacksaw hidden in his wristwatch. I don’t know the details, but you and he got trapped in the kitchen from the gunfire coming from the military helicopter gunship circling the skyscraper, and he made an explosive out of kitchen cleaning chemicals and blew open the locked elevator door, but you went up the shaft to the roof, and he went down using his magnetic shoes, and he was kind of mad at you for not thanking him for saving your life. At least, that is how he told it.”

  “Why was I killing gangsters?”

  “I dunno. It’s kind of a thing you do.”

  “Why was Tom handcuffed to a chair in the same room with them?”

  “He thought they were supplying the Anarchists with contraband, so he went in to go talk with them without telling anybody where he was going. He’s crazy like that.”

  A sense of impatience seized her. This amazing man, her fiancé, was missing, and she did not know if Wilcolac was going to the Tithing Ground later, sooner, or now. There were more questions she had for the dog, many more, but they would have to wait.

  Yumiko asked how to find him again without being led into an underground trap. “Do you have a phone?”

  “You mean like a dog phone in my doghouse? No. Elfs don’t trust phones because it is too easy to fake voices, but on parchment you can write protective runes to prevent forgeries. There is a walled graveyard behind Saint Jean Baptiste Church on Third Avenue. Leave a note in the stone pot atop the grave of Dominic Amorth 1898-1961. He’ll see that Matthias gets it. Do you know ciphers?”

  “None that I remember.”

  “This one is pretty easy. Write your message in Morse code. The first ten consonants in the alphabet are dots; the second ten are dashes; one vowel is a space between letters; two vowels together is a space between words; and the letter Y is the end of a sentence. Spaces and punctuation, just put where you’d like. Takes four times as long to say anything, but good luck trying to use frequency analysis to break it. So to say, ‘I am a very sneaky fox,’ you would write down something like, ‘Claim tons! I act eel chrum act dot! Mr. Touch Latham of to shreth! Treach the Strathcray!’ Got how it works?”

  “You enciphered that in your head just now?”

  “You kidding? I worked on that for hours before you showed up. Anyway, nice talking to you. I gotta go. Don’t do anything stupid, okay? Don’t get me in trouble for talking to you.”