A Night in the Lonesome October Part 11

I wandered for a little while after that, organizing my thoughts. My peregrinations took me past the church; a large albino raven regarding me, pink-eyed, from its peak. Circling the place once, for the sake of completeness, I saw the rotund coachman feeding his horses out back. Linda Enderby was paying a visit to the vicar.

October 20.

I stopped by Graymalk's place last night, per her invitation, and the mistress actually set down a plate of victuals for me on the back step. I realized then that Jill was far younger than I'd thought, now she wasn't wearing her Crazy clothes and had her hair down loose rather than tied back and hidden under a bandana. And she was a good cook. I can't remember when I'd eaten so well.

Afterwards, Graymalk and I headed for the manse. It was an exceptionally clear night, and there were stars all over the sky.

"It just occurred to me that you're a bird-watcher," I said.

"Of course."

"Have you seen an albino raven anywhere about?"

"As a matter of fact, I have, here and there, for several weeks now. Why?"

"It's occurred to me that it might be the vicar's companion. Just a matter of proximity and a guess, really."

"I'll watch for it now, of course."

Someone with a crossbow pa.s.sed us at a distance, moving in the other direction. We stood still, let him go by.

"Was that him?" she asked.

"Just a member of the midnight congregation," I said. "Not the man himself. Scent's wrong. I'll remember this one, though."

Streaks of high cirrus fluoresced above us from the stars they framed, and a gust of wind stirred my fur.

"I hunted rats and ate out of dustbins and saw my kittens killed and was hung by my tail and abused by wicked urchins," Graymalk said suddenly, "before the mistress found me. She was an orphan who'd lived on the streets. Her life had been even worse."

"Sorry," I said. "I've seen some bad times myself."

"If the way is opened, things should change."

"For the better?"

"Maybe. On the other paw, if it isn't opened, things may change, too."

"For the better?"

"d.a.m.ned if I know, Snuff. Does anybody really care about a hungry cat, except for a few friends?"

"Maybe that's all anybody ever has, no matter how the big show is run."

"Still. . . ."

"Yes?"

"Hard times do really bring out the revolutionary in a person, don't they?"

"I'll give you that. Also, sometimes, the cynicism."

"Like you?"

"I suppose. The more things change. . . ."

"So that's the manse," she said suddenly, pausing to regard the big structure which had just come into view, a few lights visible within. "I've never been over this way before."

"No really unusual external features," I said, "and no -- uh -- dogs about. Let's go down and look around."

We did, making a circuit of the place, peering in windows, placing the Great Detective -- one must give him credit for dedication to a role, as he was still in skirts -- in the front parlor, reading, below a portrait of the Queen. His only lapse, if one might call it that, involved an occasional puff on a great calabash pipe which he rested between times in a rack on a table to his right. His companion lingered about the kitchen, preparing some small repast. There were many darkened rooms about the place. Off of the kitchen, we noted the head of a stairway leading downward.

"That's where I should be coming up," she said. "When I reach the top I'll pa.s.s through the kitchen, if he's gone by then, and explore the farther side of the house first. If he isn't, I'll go down the long hall on the near side and investigate all of its darkened chambers."

"Sounds like a good plan," I said.

We let ourselves down to ground level and rounded the corner to the bas.e.m.e.nt window.

"'Luck," I told her as she entered.

I went back to the window and watched the kitchen. The man was in no hurry to leave, nibbling as he apparently waited for water to boil, taking out a willow-pattern plate and bowl from a cupboard, nibbling some more, hunting out utensils from a drawer, turning up from another cupboard one of those white cups with the gold rim and gold flower inside that everybody has, taking another nibble. . . . Finally, I saw Graymalk at the head of the stair. How long she had been there -- unmoving, watching -- I was uncertain. When his back was turned she slipped into the near hall. As I had no vantage on that area, I made a few circuits of the house to pa.s.s the time.

"Checking out our new neighbor, Snuff?" came a voice from a tree to the east.

"It never hurts to be thorough," I replied. "What about you, Nightwind?"

"The same. But she's not a player. We're almost sure of it."

"Oh? You've met?"

"Yes. She visited the masters yesterday. They feel she's harmless."

"Glad to know that someone is."

"Unlike the vicar, eh?"

"You've been talking to Quicklime."

"Yes."

"I thought you at odds. I heard you'd dropped him in the river."

"A misunderstanding," he said. "We've smoothed it over since."

"What did you give him for the vicar?"

"Needle's nightly feeding route," he said. "Maybe he plans to ambush him and eat him." Nightwind made a chuckling sound, something halfway between hoot and gasp. "That would be amusing."

"Not to Needle."

He chuckled again.

"That's true, isn't it? I can almost hear him crying, 'This is not funny!' Then gulp, and we'd all have the last laugh."

"I've never eaten a bat," I said.

"They're not bad. A little salty, though. Say, since I've run into you maybe we can do a little business -- nothing major, but we take whatever's there, eh?"

"Usually," I said. "What've you got?"

"After I heard about the vicar I went looking around his place. Met his companion -- "

"A big white raven," I said. "I've seen it."

"Hm. Well, I decided on the direct approach. I flew up and introduced myself. Her name's Tekela, and she seemed behind on the Game and trying to catch up. Didn't have much to trade, but all she wanted was a list of the players and their companions. She'd get it from someone else if she didn't get it from me, I figured, and I might as well get whatever she had for it. First, though, she did know that you're one of us, and your bird-eating friend. She told me she'd seen you a few nights back, with another big dog, dragging a body toward the river. That was the missing officer, wasn't it?"

"I won't deny it."

"Did you or Jack kill him?"

"No. But the body turned up too near home for comfort."

"And you were just getting rid of it?"

"Would you want the thing in your front yard?"

"Certainly not. But what I'm curious about is your friend. Tekela recognized you as she swooped by, but not the other dog. So she followed it when you parted. She said that it went to Larry Talbot's place."

"So?"

"We've been puzzled whether or not he's a player. One argument against the a.s.sumption was that he hadn't a companion. Now -- "

"What was Tekela doing way in the h.e.l.l out in that field that night?" I asked.

"Presumably, she was patrolling the area in general, as we all do."

"'Presumably'?" I said. "Her master was involved in that man's death, and she went looking for the body after I'd moved it and found it. She was keeping an eye on it to see whether whoever'd put it there would be back to do any more with it."

He was silent, and he shrank a little within his feathers. Then, "That's what I was going to trade you for the story on Larry's companion," he said. "But do you know how he died? She did tell me that."

Just then I saw it. I'd a vision of the officer, drugged, knocked out, or tied up upon the altar as the vicar blessed an edged instrument.

"Ceremonial killing," I said, "at one of his midnight services. It was early in the cycle for one. But that's what happened. Then he left the remains at our place for a bit of misdirection."

"He needed it early for the extra power, because he'd gotten off to a late start. All right. I'll give you something else for Talbot."

"Concerning what?"

"The Good Doctor."

"Done. I haven't heard anything about him for a while. The dog is a stray from town. Name's Lucky. I give him some of my food when he's around and he does favors for me. He hangs around Talbot's place, too, because Talbot saves sc.r.a.ps for him. He's too big for anyone to want to feed on a regular basis, though, which is why he hasn't a real home. You might even spot him in the woods or fields some night, hunting rabbits."

"Oh," Nightwind said, rotating his head ninety degrees to stare at the manse. "That spoils one of Morris's new theories. You're a calculator, aren't you?"

"My, Quicklime was chatty."

"It just came out in pa.s.sing," he said. "If Talbot were indeed a player, and with the vicar now in the Game . . . well, things would be moved around interestingly, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"So we're both checking the place out."

"True," I said. "I don't know that Talbot's not a player. But if he is, Lucky's not his companion."

"Interesting. Have you -- or Lucky -- seen any other candidates about his place?"

"No. He seems to prefer plants to animals."

"Can a plant be a companion?"

"I don't know. They're alive, but kind of limited in what they can do. I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, this will all shake down in a few days, I'm sure. In ample time for the work to be done and the world -- Should I say 'redeemed' or 'preserved'?"

"Let us say 'messed with,' either way."

He closed his left eye and opened it again.

"And the Good Doctor?" I prompted.

"Ah, yes," he replied. "He was the other one Tekela knew about. But I was intrigued when she insisted that there are three people living out there, not two."

"Oh?"

"So I flew out to investigate, during another of those nasty storms that always seem in progress in the area. And she was right. There was a big fellow lurching about the place -- drunk perhaps. Biggest man I've ever seen. He was only about for a little while, during the height of the storm. Then he lay down on that fancy bed in the bas.e.m.e.nt, and the Good Doctor covered him up, entirely, with a sheet. He didn't stir again."

"Strange. Bubo have anything to say about this?"

"Bah! You ought to send Graymalk after him, if I don't get him first. Rats aren't as salty as bats. Tougher, though. . . . He's worthless for information. Won't trade for anything. Either he's stupid, ignorant, or just closemouthed."

"I don't think he's stupid."

"Then I'm not sure he knows where his best interests lie. Either way, he's not much use to the rest of us."

"I'll have to corner him sometime."