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I couldn't tell whether there was anyone about. I walked home, still feeling relieved that I was done with
my corpse dragging. The wind whistled and dry leaves blew by me. There were flashes of lightning from
off in the Good Doctor's direction.
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The Thing in the Circle said, "French poodle?" when it saw me enter.
"Not today."
"Anything else? Anything at all? I'd sure like to get out and kill and rend. I'm feeling stronger all of a
sudden."
"Your time will come," I told it.
The Thing in the Steamer Trunk had poked a small hole in the front. An enormous yellow eye
regarded me through it. It didn't make a sound, though.
Snoring noises emerged from the wardrobe in the attic.
I paused before the mirror in the hall. All of its Things were clustered again, rather than slithering, and
a close inspection showed me that they had positioned themselves before a small flaw in the glass which I
hadn't noted earlier. Had they found a way to create such dimensional flaws in their prison? Still, it was
too finite to be of much use to them. I resolved to keep an eye on it, though.
I awoke to the crunching sounds of wheels, the clopping of horses' hoofs, and the sounds of several
voices, one of them singing in a foreign language, from the road out front. Stretching, and stopping for a
quick drink of water, I let myself out to see what was going on.
It was a fine, crisp morning, of sunlight, breezes, and leaves crunching beneath my feet. A line of
caravans was passing on the roadway, men in sashes and bright headcloths, Gipsies, all, walking beside
or driving, headed, I guessed, for one of the open areas between us and the city, off in the direction of
Larry Talbot's place.
"Good morning, Snuff," came a voice from the roadside weeds.
I walked over and investigated.
"'Morning, Quicklime," I said, when I spotted his dark sinuosity there. "How you feeling?"
"Fine," he replied. "A lot better than the other day. Thanks for the advice."
"Any time. You headed anyplace in particular?"
"I was following the Gipsies, actually. But this is far enough. We'll get word where they camp, by and
by."
"You think they'll be stopping near here?"
"Without a doubt. We've been expecting them for some time."
"Oh? Something special about them?"
"Well. . . . It's common knowledge now that the Count's in the area, so I'm not talking out of class.
The master spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe, where he learned something of his ways. When the
Count travels, he's often accompanied by a band of Gipsies. Rastov thinks he came here in a hurry when
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he determined where the locus would be, then sent for his band."
"What function will they serve here?"
"Now we're past the death of the moon, with the power rising, things get dangerous. Everybody
seems to know where the Count's residing, unless he's established a few more, uh, residences. So
someone with a fence picket who's decided the Game would be better off without him could end his
eligibility. He likely wants his Gipsies about to guard his quarters by day...
"Good Lords!" I said.
"What?"
"I hadn't even thought of the possibility of a player's having more than one residence. Do you realize
what that would do to the pattern?"
"Damn! No, I hadn't! This is bad, Snuff. If he's got another grave or two somewhere that throws all
the calculations off! It's good you thought of it, but what'll we do?"
"My first impulse was to keep it to myself," I said. "But then I realized we'll have to cooperate on this.
We'll have to set up a schedule, take turns watching him come and go every night. If he's got another
place, or places, we've got to find them."
"Maybe it would just be easier to stake the guy."
"That wouldn't solve the problem, though. It would just make it harder. And if he happens to be your
ally, or mine? You could be sacrificing someone who'd make the difference."
"True. True. I wish I knew which side you were on. . . ."
"I'm not so sure that would be a good idea just yet. We may work together better for not knowing it."
"'Work together. . . .' On the guard duty business, you mean?"
"I had a little more in mind, for us, right now, if you've got a little time."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I'll have to tell you a little of my calculations, but that's all right. Rastov has probably duplicated them
by now...
"_You_ are the calculator in your pair?"
"That's right. Now, I propose telling you something, and then we'll go and check it out. No matter
what we find, we'll learn something from it which will put us a little ahead."
"Of course I'll come."
"Good. My calculations show that one possible center of manifestation is that ruined church near [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]