Night Lamp (43 page)

“In that event, we must question Ooscah. Summon him here, at once.”

Asrubal sat thinking for a moment, then slowly rose to his feet and departed the hall. At a signal from the Magister, a pair of Regulators followed. Jaro, sitting near the door, looked up into Asrubal’s emotionless face as he stalked past and out into the entrance hall. Jaro rose to his feet and followed, as unobtrusively as possible. He passed through the door and halted beside a tall screen, carved intricately of honey-colored wood. Behind the screen were shadows; Jaro moved to where he could see but could not be seen.

The entry hall was much like that of Carleone, high-ceilinged, with a broad flight of stairs leading up to a balustraded gallery. Across the room a passage opened into an informal parlor; at a desk to the side of the passage sat a grichkin wearing black and white livery, a smart conical black hat, with a narrow brim, and black boots with curled toes. He was hunched and portly, with the wizened skin and compressed features of mature years; his function would be that of under-seneschal, with a status only slightly inferior to that of the major-domo. Asrubal imperiously waved the Regulators to stand back, and approached the grichkin’s desk, with the Regulators watching from a distance. Asrubal bent forward and gave the grichkin terse instructions. The grichkin asked a dubious question. Asrubal spoke again, rapping his knuckles on the desk for emphasis. The grichkin bowed his head submissively. Jaro wondered why such forceful instructions were needed simply to summon the major-domo Ooscah. It was a curious proceeding, thought Jaro. He watched with growing curiosity.

Asrubal, finally satisfied that his requirements had been made clear, straightened and looked around. Jaro moved farther back into the shadows. Asrubal’s attention, however, was fixed upon the Regulators. He seemed to be weighing his chances of escape.

The chances were clearly nonexistent. Asrubal slowly returned across the entry hall, past Jaro, back into the chamber where the Adjudicators awaited him. The Regulators followed.

Jaro watched as the grichkin picked up a telephone and spoke a sentence or two, evidently notifying Ooscah that his presence was commanded in the grand hall.

Jaro remained in the shadows. Asrubal’s conduct had been most peculiar, and almost certainly directed to his own advantage.

The grichkin hoisted himself to his feet and trotted across the entry hall, around the stairs to a low stone archway, through which he disappeared. Jaro’s suspicion was reinforced. He crossed the chamber on long strides. As he expected, the archway opened upon a flight of rough stone steps, leading down to the crypts below Varcial Palace. The grichkin had gone from sight. Jaro hesitated. The prospect of following the grichkin down into the crypts was most unappealing, but still—Jaro upbraided himself for his own cowardice. He looked over his shoulder. No one was in sight. There was no help for it; he screwed up his face in a grimace of utter distaste and followed after the grichkin, through the low archway and down the stone steps, lit by the dimmest of lights.

At the first landing Jaro paused and looked down the steps; these were the precincts of the white houseghouls. He felt for the bulk of the power-gun at his hip; the contact was reassuring. He continued down the steps to the next landing, then around and down to the left, to another landing, and down again. Arriving at the first level, Jaro found it opened upon a small bleak chamber, furnished with a wooden table, a chair and a cupboard, all in a state of neglect. The chamber was empty. The air had become dank and smelled of ancient mold.

Jaro listened; the grichkin’s footsteps still sounded in the dark. He drew a deep breath, touched his power-gun once again and ran down the steps—down, down, down, past landings, and two more levels, each opening into a small sparsely furnished and deserted chamber. Passageways led away from these chambers, but to what purpose Jaro cared not to speculate.

The steps had become narrow and crude, as if the areas below were remote in every way from the upper world. Down flight after flight went Jaro, the dim bulbs casting wavering shadows ahead of him.

The grichkin’s shuffling footsteps sounded more distinctly now and Jaro slowed his descent. The fourth level was close below. Suddenly the footsteps no longer could be heard. In their place was the sound of muted voices. Jaro moved quietly forward and peered around the last corner, into the fourth-level chamber. Like the others it was furnished with a table, chair, shelves, a sink and a cupboard. A grichkin wearing a gray smock and a dull yellow hat sat at the table. The grichkin who had arrived from above leaned over the table, much as Asrubal had leaned over his own desk. The grichkin in the yellow hat scowled at him resentfully, and muttered complaints under his breath. He was wrinkled and very old, with a gray skin, huge pouches under his eyes, a long nose hooking over the tiny gray bud of his mouth. He made an angry gesture and cried out in a shrill voice: “What about me? Has anyone thought for my convenience? Or is it to be the bin, for wasted old Shim.”

“No matter! You have heard the orders.”

The old grichkin rose to his feet and called: “Oleg! Come! Oleg? Wake yourself! There is work to be done.”

From a side-chamber came a man of great size, with massive shoulders and torso, wide hips, and a big belly. A tuft of dirty brown hair raised above his scalp, a ragged beard surrounded his loose wet mouth. He halted in the middle of the chamber, yawned, scratched at his armpits and looked suspiciously at the grichkin from above. “What do we have here, all swivets and sashes? Speak, little twinkle-toes; did you bring down our laundry?”

The grichkin responded with dignity: “You may know me as Overkin Pood, assistant to the major-domo. I am here with important instructions, to be obeyed at once.”

“Instruct away, then, and we will listen. Down here we do our duty!”

Pood prepared to speak, but was distracted by a sibilant sound from across the room. He looked over his shoulder and gave a sudden squeak of distaste. He pointed a long trembling finger. “Look yonder! Do you let them peer in at you like that?”

Oleg chuckled. “Why not? They are my little pets! Shim is never convivial and I must seek amusement elsewhere.”

Shim, Pood and Oleg all looked across the room toward an iron-barred door which closed off a dark corridor. Behind the bars there was a stirring of dark shapes and a glimmer of white faces.

Oleg said judiciously: “Still, I allow no liberties.” He took up a staff and thrust the end through the iron bars, to jab into one of the white faces. The houseghoul gave a chittering sound of rage and seized the end of the staff. Oleg chortled and pulled the staff back. “That is a naughty trick, my poppin! Be grave; be kind! There is more to life than simple frightfulness!”

For a moment Oleg stood grinning at the houseghoul, which in a sudden fit of energy shook the iron bars so that the door rattled in the frame. Oleg took up the staff and worked it energetically through the bars. The creature, hissing and moaning, retreated into the shadows, where it continued to make soft rasping sounds.

The grichkin Shim called out peevishly: “Come, Oleg! To the task!”

Oleg reluctantly turned away from the door. The two grichkins, followed by Oleg, set off along a corridor opposite to the iron-barred door. They disappeared from sight. Jaro brought out his gun, stepped down into the chamber and crossed to where he could look down the corridor. The dim light revealed the three forms where they halted, beside a heavy door with an iron-barred inspection window. Oleg glanced through the window, then unbarred the door and threw it open. He looked into the cell, and called out: “Are you awake, my dearie? I see that, as usual, you are brisk and dapper! Come out now; there are changes to be made! So it’s hop, skip and jump, with far miles to travel! Where do we go? To the land of dreams; where else?”

Pood spoke impatiently, “Be quick; less foolish talk! Haste is a priority!”

Oleg ignored him, and continued in a soothing voice: “Why do you wait? It is not yet time for your glunk; you are far too avid for your luxuries, but then, who can blame you, since it is all so good! Ah, the tasty gruel! The tidbits which you relish so keenly. I am tired, and henceforth you must fetch them yourself. That will be the new way.”

Once again Pood made a pettish protest: “Get on with the work; enough of this gabble!”

Oleg turned his head and spoke to the grichkin, “If you are so hot for action, go into the cell yourself and bring him out! You will find he is as agile as a spider; he jumps high; he walks around the walls; he is everywhere at once! If you had a beard, he would pull it well. As it is, he must content himself with your nose.”

Pood responded sulkily, “That is not my job. You must do the work, and quickly! Those are the commands!”

Oleg shrugged and turned back to the cell. “Come now! Out with you! There is no time to waste!”

From within the cell came a mutter which Jaro was unable to make out.

Oleg called sweetly: “Will you come? I would enter your cell were I not dainty as to where I place my feet. So come, my good one! Up and away, to fly the far spaces and up to the moon-palaces, where wine flows from crystal spouts and the lunar damsels dance!”

Pood made further fretful sounds. Shim called through the doorway: “Come now, and out with you! No more sulking! Must Oleg go tinkly-tinkly-tinkly with the spanker?”

From within came a grumble. Shim called approvingly: “That’s the way! Step by step; come along now! Faster still; we must hurry!”

Into the corridor shuffled a dark shape which Jaro could not see clearly.

Oleg gave a hoarse call of encouragement. “Forward now! It’s goodbye to your beloved home, and all your favorite nooks and crannies. But no regrets, since it’s all for the best! Oh what fine things await you!”

Jaro backed across the chamber and up into the shadows of the staircase; he watched with a pounding heart. Into the room came the two grichkins, followed by Oleg and a person of indeterminate age. A loose brown smock covered his thin body; dank buskins, improvised from rags, were wound around his feet. A tangle of black hair and a black beard concealed most of his face. Jaro searched for resemblance to himself, and saw a likeness in the spacing of the eyes and the shape of the nose.

“Now then,” said Oleg. “Hold hard a moment; I must light the way!”

Oleg went to a shelf and fitted a tubular device to the end of his staff. Behind the iron-barred door black robes fluttered and a pair of white faces jerked and bobbed. Oleg approached the door and pointed his staff toward the bars. He touched a trigger; the tube spurted a long flame through the bars. Hissing, spitting, moaning imprecations the houseghouls tumbled backward down the corridor while Oleg gurgled in glee. “So then, my good fellows! When Oleg speaks for patience, he expects close attention! Now, stand back! There will be time enough for your treat.” Oleg peered through the bars. “No tricks or sudden starts; the flame is ready!”

Oleg unbarred the door and, with flame-staff ready, threw the door open on squealing hinges. He turned to the prisoner. “Now we must say goodbye, since we travel in separate directions. Your way is yonder, into the country of the unknown, where you will arrive after perhaps some small tribulation. So step lively now; in with you, and our good wishes go with you.”

The prisoner stood motionless. The two grichkins each took one of his arms and urged him toward the open door. The prisoner held back, his eyes bulging. The grichkins pulled more insistently. “Come along with you! We all must obey orders!”

Jaro stepped down into the chamber and, aiming his gun, destroyed the legs first of Shim, then of Pood. Both fell screaming to the floor. Jaro waved his gun toward Oleg. “Drag them into the corridor; be quick with you, before I shoot again.”

Oleg roared in mindless outrage. He flung the staff; it whirled through the air and struck Jaro on the chest, to send him reeling. Oleg lurched forward, seized Jaro and hugged him to his enormous chest. He grinned down into Jaro’s face, his great maw hanging loose and wet. “This is a surprise! But you have hurt poor old Shim, and also the popinjay Pood. That was not nice, and you shall not gain by your cruelty! Make ready! You must walk in tandem with Garlet, down that avenue into the unknown! Now we will go. If you struggle I will squeeze your head.” He started to drag Jaro toward the corridor. Jaro let his legs go limp, hoping to sag to the floor, but Oleg only hugged tighter and Jaro’s ribs creaked. He tried to use his elbows, to kick and butt with his head; Oleg’s great frame was sheathed with thick pads of fat and muscle and Jaro’s efforts came to nothing. He tried to point the gun at Oleg’s foot, but Oleg struck his wrist and the gun dropped to the stone floor. Jaro thought desperately of the months and years of Gaing’s training, and the endless exercises. Now the reflexes built into his body would save his life. Even so it was touch and go, for Oleg was a behemoth and his great mass made most techniques useless.

But not so for one tried and true procedure. Jaro jerked up his knee with all his force. He felt the great testicles crush and squirm, and heard Oleg’s instant howl of agony. Jaro dropped from Oleg’s embrace, seized his gun and also the staff. He pointed the tube toward Oleg and pressed the trigger. Flame sprayed against Oleg’s chest and he fell back, turning Jaro a look of plaintive surprise. “You burned me.”

“I will burn you again,” panted Jaro. “Drag those grichkins into the corridor beyond the door.”

“They are thrashing about! They are howling in pain!”

Jaro pointed the fire-tube. Wheezing and sobbing, Oleg obeyed, ignoring the horrified protests.

“Now then,” said Jaro. “You too! After them!”

Oleg turned him a frantic look. “They are waiting. They do not like me; I have burned them.”

Jaro pressed the trigger. With bursts of flame he drove Oleg moaning and crying into the corridor, then slammed and barred the door. Strange sounds came from the corridor: cries of pain and clacking sounds of insane glee.

Jaro turned to the erstwhile prisoner, who sat in the comer, slumped against the wall. Jaro appraised him for a moment, struggling between disgust and pity. Garlet watched him with stony detachment.