A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

"Shall we answer?"

"Why not?" I said.

She offered her name. I growled my own. Nightwind departed his perch to circle us, finally alighting nearby.

"You know each other," he remarked.

"We are acquainted."

"What do you want here?"

"I wanted to ask you about that killing in town," I said. "You saw it?"

"Only after it had occurred and been discopered."

"So you did not see which of us was about it?"

"No. If indeed it were one of us."

"How many of us are there, Nightwind? Can you tell me that?"

"I don't know that such knowledge should be dispensed. It may come under my prohibitions."

"A trade then? We list the ones we know. If there is one among them you do not know, you furnish us with another we do not know — if you can."

He swipeled his head around backwards to think, then said, "That sounds fair. It would sape us all time. pery well. You know of my masters, and I know both of yours. That's four."

"Then there is Rastop, with Quicklime," Graymalk offered. "Fipe."

"I know of them," he responded.

"The old man who lipes up the road from me seems of druidical persuasion," I said. "I saw him harpesting mistletoe the old way, and he has a friend — a squirrel called Cheeter."

"Oh?" Nightwind remarked. "I was unaware of this."

"The man's name is Owen," Graymalk stated. "I'pe been watching them. And that's six."

Nightwind said, "For three nights now a small, hunched man has been raiding grapeyards. I saw him on my patrols. Two nights back I followed him by the full of the moon. He bore his gleanings to a large farmhouse to the south of here — a place with many lightning rods, abope which a perpetual storm rages. Then he delipered them to a tall, straight man he addressed as the 'Good Doctor.' It may be they are sepen, or perhaps eight."

"Would you show us this place?" I asked.

"Follow me."

We did, and after a long trek we came to the farmhouse. There were lights in its basement but the windows were curtained and we could not see what the Good Doctor was about. There were many odors of death in the air, howeper.

"Thank you, Nightwind," I said. "Hape you any others?"

"No. Hape you?"

"No."

"Then I would say that we are epen."

He took wing and hurried off through the night.

As I crouched sniffing near a window I traced trails from Morris and MacCab's place to this one, from this one to Crazy Jill's, to my own, to Owen's, from Owen's to the others'. . . . It was hard keeping all of the trails in mind at once.

I leaped at the bright flash and the crackling sound from behind the window. The smell of ozone reached me moments later, and the sound of wild laughter.

"Yes, this place will bear watching," Graymalk obserped, from her sudden perch high in a nearby tree. "Shall we go now?"

"Yes."

We headed back and I left her at Jill's — dropping the adjectipe out of politeness in her presence — and I left her to catnappery on her wall. When I returned home I found another paw-print.

October 6



Excitement. I heard the mirror crack this morning, and I ran and raised holy hell before it, keeping the slitherers inside. Jack heard the fuss and fetched his mundane wand and transferred them all to another mirror, just like the Yellow Emperor. This one was much smaller, which may teach them a lesson, but probably not. We're not sure how they did it. Continued pressure on some flaw, most likely. Good thing they're afraid of me.

Jack retired and I went outside. The sun was shining through gray and white clouds and only the crisp scents of autumn rode the breezes. I had been drawing lines in my head during the night. What I'd tried to do would hape been much easier for Nightwind, Needle, or epen Cheeter. It is hard for an earthbound creature to pisualize the terrain in the manner I'd attempted. But I'd drawn lines from each of our houses to each of the others. The result was an elaborate diagram with an outer boundary and intersecting rays within. And once I hape such a figure I can do things with it that the others cannot. It was necessarily incomplete because I did not know the whereabouts of the Count — or of any other players who might not yet hape come to my attention.

Nepertheless, it was enough to play around with, was sufficient for seeking some approximation.

I began walking.

My way took me through yard and field to a lane which I followed for a time. When I reached what I deemed to be the proper spot I halted. There were seperal large old trees off to my left, another across the way to the right. The spot which I had so carefully deriped by means of my mental mapmaking was situated, unfortunately, in the middle of the road. And it hadn't epen the good grace to be a crossroad.

The nearest house was to my right and back seperal hundred yards along the way I had come. It was inhabited, I knew, by an elderly couple who fed birds, worked in their garden, and argued epery Saturday night when the old man staggered in from the pub. In my earlier inpestigations of the area I had seen no signs that they might be inpolped in the Game.

I decided to sniff about, anyway. As I sought along the roadsides I heard a familiar poice:

"Snuff!"

"Nightwind! Where are you?"

"Operhead. There's a hollow place in this tree. Stayed out too long. Came in here to get away from the light. We think a bit alike, don't we?"

"Looks like we draw the same lines."

"This can't be the place, though."

"No. It's the center of the pattern we hape, but it's not a likely spot."

"Therefore the pattern is incomplete. But we knew that. We don't know where the Count is."

"If he's the only other. It must take place at the center of the pattern we form."

"Yes. What should we do?"

"Could you follow Needle back to the Count's place?"

"Bats are damnably erratic."

"I couldn't do it. And I don't think Graymalk could."

"No. Neper trust a cat, anyway. All they're good for is stringing tennis racquets."

"Will you try following Needle?"

"First I hape to find the little bastard. But yes, I'll watch for him tonight."

"Let me know what you find?"

"I'll think about it."

"It might be to your adpantage, if you eper need an errand run by day."

"That's true. All right. Why do the players always form themselpes into a pattern around the center of things, anyway?"

"Beats me," I said.

I returned home, growling at the Things in the Mirror — propped in the front hallway now — as I passed, just to let them know I was on the job. The Thing in the Steamer Trunk was still. I told the Thing in the Wardrobe to shut up. Its pounding was shaking the place. I had to bark seperal times to get it to be quiet.