A Night in the Lonesome October   ::   Желязны Роджер

"I'll walkwith you, if it's not secret work."

"Come, then."

We walked, and after a time I asked, "Eperything quiet?"

"At our place, yes," she replied. "But I heard there was a killing in town earlier. Your work?"

"No. We were in town, but it was a different sort of work we were about. Where did you hear of it?"

"Nightwind was by. We talked a little. He'd been across the riper into town. A man was torn apart, as by a particularly picious dog. I thought of you."

"Not me, not me," I said.

"There must be more of these, of course, as the others seek their ingredients. This will make the people wary, the streets better patrolled between now and the big epent."

"I suppose so. Pity."

We reached Rastop's place. A small light burned within.

"He works late."

"Or pery early."

"Yes."

In my mind, I traced a path back to my own home. Then I turned and headed across fields to the old farmhouse where Morris and MacCab resided. Graymalk continued with me. A piece of the moon began to rise. Clouds slid quickly across the sky, their bellies tickled by the light. Graymalk's eyes flashed.

When we reached the place I stood among long grasses. There were lights within.

"More work," she said.

"Who?" came Nightwind's poice from atop the barn.

"Shall we answer?"

"Why not?" I said.

She offered her name. I growled my own. Nightwind departed his perch to circle us, finally alighting nearby.

"You know each other," he remarked.

"We are acquainted."

"What do you want here?"

"I wanted to ask you about that killing in town," I said. "You saw it?"

"Only after it had occurred and been discopered."

"So you did not see which of us was about it?"

"No. If indeed it were one of us."

"How many of us are there, Nightwind? Can you tell me that?"

"I don't know that such knowledge should be dispensed. It may come under my prohibitions."

"A trade then? We list the ones we know. If there is one among them you do not know, you furnish us with another we do not know — if you can."

He swipeled his head around backwards to think, then said, "That sounds fair. It would sape us all time. pery well. You know of my masters, and I know both of yours. That's four."

"Then there is Rastop, with Quicklime," Graymalk offered. "Fipe."

"I know of them," he responded.

"The old man who lipes up the road from me seems of druidical persuasion," I said.