A Night in the Lonesome October (10 page)

    
"I'll give you a ha… I'll help."

    
With that, he seized it by a shoulder and began walking backwards.
 
No bracing himself and tugging, the way I'd had to manage it.
 
He just kept walking, picking up speed, even.
 
I didn't see any way I could help.
 
I'd just slow him down if I grabbed hold anywhere.
 
I trotted along beside and watched.

    
An hour or so later we stood on the riverbank and watched the current bear the corpse away.

    
"I can't tell you how happy this makes me," I said.

    
"You just did," he said.
 
"Let's head back."

    
We returned, but when he reached my place he kept going.

    
"Where are we headed?" I finally asked, when he'd turned left at the second crossroad.

    
"I'd said I went looking for you because I wanted to speak with you.
 
There is something I need to show you first.
 
If my timing is right, it's about midnight now."

    
"I'd guess it's close."

    
We approached the local church.
 
There was a very dim light from within.

    
"The front will probably be locked," he said.
 
"We wouldn't want to go in that way, though."

    
"We're going in?"

    
"That's my intention."

    
"Have you been in it before?"

    
"Yes.
 
I know my way around.
 
We'll go in the rear entrance if no one's about, pass through a small vestibule, turn left for a few paces, then right up a little hallway.
 
We can get into the vestry from there, if it's clear."

    
"And then?"

    
"If we position ourselves properly, we get a view."

    
"Of what?"

    
"I'm curious myself.
 
Let's find out."

    
We made our way around to the back of the building and listened.
 
Determining that there was no one near on the other side, Larry rose up onto his hind legs, seeming far more graceful in that position than I could be.
 
But then, he'd had a lot more practice.
 
He seized the doorknob between his forepaws, squeezed, twisted, and pulled slowly.

    
It opened and we entered.
 
He closed the door just as quietly behind us.
 
We followed the route he had described, and, coming into the vestry, we were able to position ourselves to obtain the view he had referred to.

    
There was a service in progress.

    
Only a few people, one woman, the rest of them men, were present, occupying the front pews.
 
The vicar stood before the altar, which I noted to be draped in black, and was reading to his congregation.
 
He squinted through his square spectacles, as the flickering light was not very good, all of it coming from only a few black candles.
 
Larry pointed out that the cross was upside-down, but I'd already noticed this myself.

   
 
"Do you know what that means?" he asked softly.

    
"Religious distress signal?" I said.

    
"Listen to what he's saying."

    
So I did.

    
"'. . . Nyarlathotep,'" he read, "'cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
 
He is like a many-legged goat, and he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice, horned in glory.
 
Nyarlathotep spake, and he said, "Rise up, my dark one, and come away.
 
For, lo, the winter is nigh and the cold rains fall.
 
The flowers have died upon the earth, and the singing of birds is done.
 
The turtle lies slain.
 
The fig tree withers, as do the grapes.
 
Arise, my dark one, and come away. . . ."'"

    
The woman had risen to her feet, swaying slightly, and had begun to disrobe.

    
"You've proved your point," I said to Larry, memorizing the faces of the parishioners, whom I suspected to be the crossbow crew as well.

    
"Then let us take a hint and come away," he said.

    
I followed him from the vestry, and we let ourselves out the way we had come in.
 
We made our way slowly back to the crossroads.

    
"So he's involved," I said after a time.

    
"It's _his_ status I wanted to discuss with you."

    
"Yes?"

    
"I know that a certain geometry prevails in these matters, but I've never learned it fully," he said.
 
"I do know, though, that it involves the placement of each player's residence."

    
"True.
 
Oh.
 
I see what you're getting at."

    
"Yes.
 
How does his presence affect the pattern? Do you know how to figure these things, Snuff?"

    
"I do.
 
I've been walking lines for some time.
 
Where does he actually live?"

    
"That cottage behind the church is the vicarage."

    
"Okay.
 
Close enough.
 
I'm going to have to do a lot more calculating now."

    
"I need to know the center ground, the place of manifestation, Snuff."

    
"I'd guessed that, Larry, and I'll tell you when I figure it.
 
Mind telling me your plans?
 
I've a feeling they're special."

    
"Sorry."

    
"That makes you a part of my problem then, you know."

    
"How so?"

    
"If I don't know what you're up to, I don't know whether to count you as a player, whether or not to include your place in the diagram."

    
"I see."

    
He halted, there at the crossroads.

    
"Could you do it both ways, with me and without me, and let me know the results?"

    
"As well as both ways on the vicarage?
 
That'd be damned complicated, having to work it both ways, twice.
 
Why are you afraid to tell me?
 
You've as much as said you're a closer.
 
All right.
 
So am I.
 
You happy now?
 
Your secret's safe.
 
We're in this together."

    
"That's not it, Snuff," he said.
 
"I can't tell you because I don't know.
 
I'm an anticipator.
 
I know certain things about the future, and I anticipate being at the center when the moon is full.
 
And yes, I'm on your side.
 
But I'll also be out of my mind that night.
 
I still haven't worked out the formula for bringing it through a moon-change intact.
 
I'm not sure I should even be categorized as a player.
 
But then, I'm not sure I shouldn't.
 
I'm just too much of a wild card."

    
I threw back my head and howled.
 
Sometimes it's the best thing to do.

    
I went home, made my rounds, thought a lot, and slept.
 
Earlier today, I encountered Graymalk as I paced the neighborhood and calculated.

    
"Hi, cat," I said.

    
"Hi, dog.
 
What's the status on your disposal project?"

    
"Finished.
 
Done.
 
Complete.
 
All floated away.
 
Last night."

    
"Admirable.
 
There were times when I thought they'd find it before you got there."

 
   
"Me, too."

    
"We have to be careful what we talk about now."

    
"Or even how we phrase things.
 
But we're adults and we're reasonably intelligent and we both know the score.
 
So, how's it going?"

    
"Not real well."

    
"Math problems?"

    
"I shouldn't say."

    
"It's all right.
 
Everybody's got 'em just now."

    
"Do you know that? Or are you guessing?"

    
"It couldn't be any other way, believe me."

    
She stared at me.

    
"I do believe you.
 
What I'd like to know is how you can be so sure?"

    
"That's the part I can't tell you, I'm afraid."

    
"I understand," she said.
 
"But let's not stop talking just because we're into the second phase."

    
"Agreed.
 
I think that would be a mistake."

    
"So, how's it going?"

    
"Not real well."

    
"Math problems or identity problems?"

    
"You're sharp.
 
Both."

    
"If you solve the problem of whether Talbot's really a player, I'll trade you something for it."

    
"What?"

    
"Can't say, of course.
 
But it could be useful if things get rough."

    
"I'm inclined to take you up on it, but I haven't an answer yet."

    
"That gives me something right there, small, but something.
 
So, for whatever it's worth, here's a negative: It can't be the center of a road.
 
The mistress has researched it and found good metaphysical reasons why not."

    
"I'd come to that conclusion myself, but I didn't know about the metaphysics.
 
All right, we're still even."

    
"Talk to you again soon."

    
"Yes, soon."

    
I took a walk, to my favorite thinking place, a little hill to the northeast, whence I could see the entire area for a great distance.
 
I called it Dog's Nest.
 
I mounted the height of one of the big blocks of stone that lay there and was afforded a view of the township.

    
Identities. . . .

    
If neither Talbot nor the vicar were technically involved, I'd a good candidate for the center.
 
And if only Larry were involved, it still held.
 
Though I was leery of the Count, it would have to be checked out.
 
But the vicar was also a wild card.
 
If he were to be counted, but not Larry, an equally good candidate for center came into existence, one I had even visited recently.
 
If he _and_ Larry were both to be counted as players, though, a third possible site of manifestation was created, to the southeast, I hadn't quite figured where yet.
 
I moved in a big circle about the hilltop, pissing on stone after stone as I calculated, partly to keep track of the lines, partly in frustration.

    
Then I had it, and I marked it in my mind.
 
If they _both_ played, then a big old manse about which I knew nothing was the third candidate for the locale.
 
Excitement leaped in my breast like a puppy, enthusiastic and more than a little naive.
 
A bit of consecration was all that was necessary to strengthen the probability of its choice.
 
I'd have to check this out.

    
I realized then that I needed the help of a cat.

    
I went looking for Graymalk again but she was nowhere about.
 
Cats are never around when you really need one.
 
There was still time, though.