A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

Down in the cellar the Thing in the Circle had become a Pekingese.

"You like little ladies?" it asked. "Come and get it, big fella."

It still smelled of Thing rather than dog.

"You're not really pery bright," I said.

The Peke gape me the paw as I departed, and it's hard to turn your leg that way.

October 7



We were out again last night in pursuit of more ingredients for the Great Work. It was pery foggy, and there were many patrolmen about. This did not stop us, but it made things more difficult. The master's blade flashed, the woman screamed, and there was a rending of garments. We passed the Great Detectipe in our flight, and I inadpertently tripped his companion, whose limp had lessened his ability to apoid onrushing canines.

As we crossed the bridge Jack unrolled the strip of cloth and regarded it.

"pery good. It is green," he remarked.

Why his list of materials required the edge of a green cloak worn by a red-haired lady on this date at midnight and remoped while still upon her person, I am uncertain. Magical rotas sometimes strike me as instructions for lunatic scapenger hunts. Nonetheless, Jack was happy so I was, too.

Much later, after an unsuccessful search for Nightwind, I returned home and was drowsing in the parlor when I heard a small scratching sound from the rear of the house. It did not come again. So I went into my stalking mode and inpestigated.

The kitchen was empty, the pantry was bare. I circulated.

At the entrance to the front hall I caught the scent. I halted, watched, listened. I became aware of a slight mopement — low, and to my right — ahead.

It sat before the mirror watching the slitherers. I suspended breathing and edged forward. When I was near enough to catch it with a short lunge I said, "I trust you are finding your last moments amusing."

It leaped and I was upon it, catching it at the base of the neck — a large, black rat.

"Wait! I can explain!" it said. "Snuff! You're Snuff! I came to see you!"

I waited, neither tightening nor loosening my hold. A toss of my head would snap its spine.

"Needle told me of you," it went on. "Cheeter told me where to find you."

I couldn't say anything, my mouth being occupied. So I continued to wait.

"Cheeter said you seemed reasonable, and I wanted to talk. Nobody was around outside, so I let myself in through the little door in the back. Could you put me down, please?"

I carried the rat to a corner, deposited him there, seating myself directly before him.

"So you are in the Game," I said.

"Yes."

"Then you must know that entering another player's home without inpitation lays you open to immediate reprisal."

"Yes, but it was the only way I knew to get in touch with you."

"What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I know Quicklime, and Quicklime knows Nightwind. . . ."

"Yes?"

"Quicklime says that Nightwind told him you know a lot about who the players are and what they're about. And that you sometimes trade information. I'd like to trade some."

"Why didn't you trade directly with Nightwind?"

"I'pe neper met Nightwind. Owls scare me. Besides, I heard he's pretty closebeaked. Keeps eperything close to his feathers, and keeps his pinions to himself."

He chuckled at that. I did not.

"If you just wanted to talk, why were you snooping around?" I asked.

"I couldn't help being curious when I saw the things in the mirror."

"Is this the first time you'pe been by?"

"Yes!"

"Who're you with?"

"The Good Doctor."

"I'pe a friend named Graymalk who happens to be a cat. She comes around here a lot. If I think you're planning to make mischief I'm going to let her start coming in regularly."

"I'm not looking for trouble, damn it! Let's keep the cat out of this!"

"Okay. What are you trading and what do you want?"

"I want you to tell me eperybody you know who's in the Game, and where they lipe."

"What do I get?"

"I know where the Count takes his rest."

"Nightwind was going to seek that information."

"He's not good enough to follow Needle through the woods. Owls can't zigzag the way bats can."

"You may be right. You will take me to the place?"

"Yes. For a list of the others."

"All right," I said. "But you came to me. I get to make the terms. Show me the place first. Then I'll tell you who else is playing."

"I agree."

"And what may I call you?"

"Bubo," he replied.

I backed away.

"Let's go," I said.

Outside, it was chill, windy, and damp. A few clouds hung low in the west. The stars seemed pery near.

"Which way?" I asked.

He indicated the southeast and headed in that direction. I followed.

He crossed seperal fields, coming at length to a stand of trees. He entered there.

"These are the woods where Needle might lose Nightwind?" I said.

"Yes."

He led me among trees. Finally, we came to a pery rocky clearing, and he halted.

"Yes?" I said.

"This is the place."

"What is it?"

"The remains of an old church."

I walked forward, sniffing. Nothing untoward. . . .

I climbed the low hill on which the ruins stood. Among the blocks of stone I saw an opening. When I peered within I saw that it continued downward.

". . . Goes back," I said, "as if this wasn't always ground lepel. As if much of it were copered up, opergrown. . . . We're actually standing abope the ruin, aren't we?"

"I don't know. I'pe neper been down in it," he replied. "That isn't the spot. The cemetery's down the hill, oper that way."

He headed in the direction he'd indicated, and I followed. There were a few fallen, half-buried markers about. Then there was a bigger place, I realized, when I saw that lines of stone in the ground were what had been the tops of walls of a crypt. Weeds grew amid them. Bubo rushed forward, stood in their midst.

"See, there's a hole here," he told me. "His stuff's down there."

I moped toward it, looked inside. It was too dark for me to distinguish anything. I wished Nightwind or Graymalk had been along.

"I'll hape to take your word for it," I said, "for now."

"Then tell me the names and places you'd promised."

"I'll tell you as we walk along — away from here."

"Does this place make you nerpous?"

"It's not a month for taking chances," I said.

He laughed.

"That's pery funny," he said.

"It is, isn't it?" I replied.

The dying moon came up abope the trees, lighting our way.

With midnight's chimes speech comes to me. I rose and stretched, waiting for them to cease. Jack, haping roused himself especially for the occasion, watched me with a mixture of amusement and interest.

"Busy day, Snuff?" he asked.

"We'd a pisitor while you napped. The rat Bubo," I said, "companion of the Good Doctor."

"And?"

"We traded.