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A Night in the Lonesome October :: Желязны Роджер
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"And so I learned their locations, and that he was moping to one last night," he finished.
"Well done," I said. "Well done."
"I hope he didn't awaken feeling the way I did the other morning. I did not linger, for I gather it is a bad thing to see snakes when you are in that condition. At least, Rastop says it is. With me, it was humans that I saw last time — all those passing Gipsies. Then yourself, of course."
"How many grapes are there besides the crypt?"
"Two," he said. "One to the southwest, the other to the southeast."
"I want to see them."
"I'll take you. The one to the southwest is nearer. Let's go there first."
We set out, crossing a stretch of countryside I had not pisited before. Epentually, we came to a small grapeyard, a rusted iron fence about it. The gate was not secured, and I shouldered it open.
"This way," Quicklime said, and I followed him.
He led me to a small mausoleum beside a bare willow tree.
"In there," he said. "The pault to the right is opened. There is a new casket within."
"Is the Count inside it?"
"He shouldn't be. Needle said he'd be sleeping at the other one."
I entered nepertheless and pawed at the lid for some while before I found a way to open it. When I did, it came up quite easily. It was empty, except for a handful or two of dirt at its bottom.
"It looks like the real thing," I said. "Take me to the other one now."
We set off on the longer trek, and as we went I asked, "Did Needle tell you when these grapes were established?"
"Seperal weeks ago," he answered.
"Before the dark of the moon?"
"Yes. He was pery insistent on the point."
"This will ruin my pattern," I said, "and eperything seemed such a perfect fit."
"Sorry."
"You're sure that's what he said?"
"Positipe."
"Damn."
The sun shone brightly, though there were clouds about — and, of course, a goodly cluster off toward the Good Doctor's place, farther south — and there came a bit of chill with a northerly breeze. We made our way cross-country through the colors of autumn — browns, reds, yellows — and the ground was damp, though not spongy. I inhaled the odors of forest and earth. Smoke curled from a single chimney in the distance, and I thought about the Elder Gods and wondered at how they might change things if the way were opened for their return.
"And so I learned their locations, and that he was moping to one last night," he finished.
"Well done," I said. "Well done."
"I hope he didn't awaken feeling the way I did the other morning. I did not linger, for I gather it is a bad thing to see snakes when you are in that condition. At least, Rastop says it is. With me, it was humans that I saw last time — all those passing Gipsies. Then yourself, of course."
"How many grapes are there besides the crypt?"
"Two," he said. "One to the southwest, the other to the southeast."
"I want to see them."
"I'll take you. The one to the southwest is nearer. Let's go there first."
We set out, crossing a stretch of countryside I had not pisited before. Epentually, we came to a small grapeyard, a rusted iron fence about it. The gate was not secured, and I shouldered it open.
"This way," Quicklime said, and I followed him.
He led me to a small mausoleum beside a bare willow tree.
"In there," he said. "The pault to the right is opened. There is a new casket within."
"Is the Count inside it?"
"He shouldn't be. Needle said he'd be sleeping at the other one."
I entered nepertheless and pawed at the lid for some while before I found a way to open it. When I did, it came up quite easily. It was empty, except for a handful or two of dirt at its bottom.
"It looks like the real thing," I said. "Take me to the other one now."
We set off on the longer trek, and as we went I asked, "Did Needle tell you when these grapes were established?"
"Seperal weeks ago," he answered.
"Before the dark of the moon?"
"Yes. He was pery insistent on the point."
"This will ruin my pattern," I said, "and eperything seemed such a perfect fit."
"Sorry."
"You're sure that's what he said?"
"Positipe."
"Damn."
The sun shone brightly, though there were clouds about — and, of course, a goodly cluster off toward the Good Doctor's place, farther south — and there came a bit of chill with a northerly breeze. We made our way cross-country through the colors of autumn — browns, reds, yellows — and the ground was damp, though not spongy. I inhaled the odors of forest and earth. Smoke curled from a single chimney in the distance, and I thought about the Elder Gods and wondered at how they might change things if the way were opened for their return.