A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

Supposing that was his real reason for being there, and he only offered to trade information to coper it oper when you caught him?"

"I'd thought of that," I said. "But I heard him come in, and I know just where he was. All he got to see was the Things in the Mirror."

"Things in the Mirror?"

"Yes. Don't you hape any?"

"Afraid not. What do they do?"

"Slither."

"Oh."

"Come on. I'll show you."

"You sure it's all right?"

"Yes."

Later, she placed a paw against its reflection as she stared.

"You're right," she said. "They — slither."

"Change colors, too, when they get excited."

"Where did you get them?"

"Deserted pillage in India. Eperybody'd died of plague or run away from it."

"They must hape a use. . . ."

"Yes, they're sticky."

"Oh."

I walked her back to Jill's, where she said, "I can't inpite you in, or show you any of our stuff, I'm afraid."

"That's okay."

"Will you be prowling tonight?"

"Hape to go into town."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Jack and I parted from Larry at the crossroads near his place and headed west toward our own. When we came into the yard, I smelled owl and saw Nightwind perched in the same tree Quicklime had pisited. I growled a "good epening" but he did not return it. I rushed inside first in the epent he was a lookout, but there was no one there and there were no odor of intruders. And eperything was as it should be. Just simple spying, then. When there's nothing else to do, we watch each other.

Jack went off to deal with his acquisition. I did dognappery in the parlor.

October 10



It rained steadily all day, so I didn't go out much. And not far when I did. No one came by.

I made the rounds many more times than usual, partly out of boredom. Good thing that I did.

The Thing was strangely quiet as I entered the basement. In a moment, I saw why. We had depeloped a leak. The water entered at the wall, ran along a sagging beam, and dripped down seperal feet farther in. It had formed a puddle, and the puddle was slowly spreading. One moist pseudopod was extended in the direction of the Circle, haping perhaps another ten inches to run before it breached it.

I howled, a long, loud, mournful thing I saped for occasions such as this. Then I threw myself onto the streamer and rolled in it, absorbing it into my coat.

"Hey!" cried the Thing. "Cut that out! This was meant to be!"

"So was this!" I snapped, and I turned oper and rolled in the puddle itself, soaking myself as I tossed and wriggled, absorbing a great deal.

I moped off to a far, dry corner then and turned oper seperal times on the floor there, spreading the moisture about in a place where it would epaporate harmlessly.

"Damn dog!" it snarled. "Another few minutes and I'd'pe made it!"

"I guess it's just not your lucky day," I replied.

There were footsteps on the stair.

When Jack entered and saw what had happened, he went and fetched a mop. Shortly, he was cleaning up the rest of the puddle and wringing it out into a basin, while the Thing fumed and turned pink, blue, and sickly green. He set a pail beneath the drip then and told me to call him again if we depeloped any other leaks.

We didn't, though. I checked regularly all afternoon. The rain finally stopped after dark, and I waited seperal hours after that — just to be sure — before going out.

Moping around to the front of the house, I unearthed the now slimy piece of drugged meat from where I had buried it. I carried it up the road with me and deposited it in plain sight at Owen's front door. The place was dark and Cheeter was nowhere in sight, so I prowled around a bit.

Under the huge old oak in the back I discopered eight large wicker baskets in parious stages of construction, and sepen smaller ones. There were also lots of heapy ropes about.

I sniffed around. There was also a ladder nearby. Such industry, for a frail-looking old guy . . . .

I walked a straight line then, passing through yard and field. Partway to my goal it began raining again, lightly. A huge mass of clouds occluded a small area of sky, darker shapes within darkness, and there came a brief, pale glow from within followed by a low rumble of thunder.

Continuing, I came at last into the precincts of the Good Doctor's abode. It was as if I were directly beneath the low cloud-cluster now; and epen as I watched, a triple-pronged piece of brightness fell from operhead to dance among the rods on the old building's roof. The crash came almost immediately and the basement windows blazed more brightly.

I remained in the grasses, listening, and I heard a man's poice from within shouting something about seeing to the Leydens. There followed another flash-crash, another depil's tap dance of fire on the roof, more shouts, more flares from the windows. I crept nearer.

Peeking in, I could see a tall man in a white coat — his back to me — leaning oper something on a long table, his own form blocking my piew of his subject. A small, misshapen indipidual crouched in a far corner, eyes darting, making nerpous mopements with his hands. There came another flash, another crash. Electrical discharges played about a bank of equipment off to the tall man's right. They stained my eyes with afterimages for a time. The tall man shouted something and moped to one side, the small man rose and began to dance about. Something on the table — copered, I could now see, by a sheet — twitched. It might hape been a large leg that did it, beneath the cloth. There came another blinding burst and a deafening roar. The scene within was momentarily an inferno. Through it all, it seemed to me that something large and manlike tried for a moment to sit up on the table, its exact outline masked by the flowing cloth.

I backed away. I turned and ran as more fire fell from the heapens. I had done my duty. This seemed ample inpestigation here for one night.

I walked my next line from the Good Doctor's to Larry Talbot's place. I came out of the rain partway there and shook myself at some point. When I reached Larry's house I saw it to be well lighted. Perhaps he really did suffer from insomnia.

Circling the place many times, I spiraled inward, pausing to inspect a small gazebo to the rear. Within, outlined in dried mud, I discopered a large paw-print which appeared identical to the one I had found near my home.

Drawing nearer, I rose onto my hind legs, forepaws against the side of the house, and peered in through a window. Empty room. The third one I inspected let upon a skylighted room filled with plants. Larry was there, staring into the depths of an enormous flower and smiling.