A Night in the Lonesome October (31 page)

    
"Yes, but I didn't really _do_ important things like the rest of you."

    
"It's mainly the little things, all added up, that give us the final picture, that make the difference."

    
"I suppose so," he said.
 
"Yes, it was fun.
 
Do you think, Could I possibly come with?
 
I'd like to see it happen, however it goes."

    
"I'm sorry," I said.
 
"We couldn't be responsible for a civilian, too.
 
I think it's going to be a rough one."

    
"I understand," he replied.
 
"I'd guessed you'd say that, but I had to ask."

    
I left him there after a time, watching the sky.
 
The moon was still hidden.

    
And so. . . .

    
We left before midnight, of course, Jack and I, he in a warm coat and carrying a satchel containing the equipment.
 
Under his other arm, he bore a few small logs for the fire.
 
We left without bothering to lock the door.

    
The sky was beginning to clear overhead, though the moon was still masked.
 
There was sufficient light just from its glow-through, however, to show our way clearly.
 
There was a chill, damp breeze at our backs.

    
Soon, Dog's Nest was before us, and Jack decided we should circle it and mount its eastern slope.

    
We did that, and as we came in sight of the top a small glow was already apparent off in the circle toward the stone with the inscription.
 
Moving nearer, we saw that Vicar Roberts and Morris and MacCab were tending a small fire they had obviously just gotten going, nursing it to achieve greater compass.
 
The vicar's ear was unbandaged now, and light showed through two high perforations in it.
 
The heap of kindling was much larger than when Graymalk and I had been by earlier.

    
The banefire is a necessary part of our business.
 
It goes all the way back into the misty vastness of our practices.
 
Both sides require it, so in this sense it is a neutral instrument.
 
After midnight, it comes to burn in more than one world, and we may add to it those things which enhance our personal strengths and serve our ends.
 
It attracts otherworldly beings sympathetic to both sides, as well as neutral spirits who may be swayed by the course of the action.
 
Voices and sights may pass through it, and it serves as a secondary, supportive point of manifestation to whatever the opening or closing object may be.
 
Customarily, we all bring something to feed it, and it interacts with all of us throughout the ritual.
 
I had urinated on one of our sticks, for example, several days earlier.
 
There are times when players have been attacked by its flames; and I can recall an instance when one was defended by a sudden wall of fire it issued.
 
It is also good for disposing of evidence.
 
It comes in handy on particularly cold nights, too.

    
"Good evening," Jack said as we approached, and he added his contribution to the woodpile.

    
"Good evening, Jack," the vicar said, and Morris and MacCab nodded.

    
Lynette lay on her back upon the altar, head turned in our direction, eyes closed, breathing slow.
 
Well drugged, of course.
 
She had on a long white garment, and her dark hair hung loose.
 
I looked away.
 
Obviously, the protest had been overridden.
 
I sniffed the air.
 
No sign of Jill or Graymalk yet.

    
The fire bloomed more brightly.
 
Jack set his bag down and moved to help with it.
 
I decided on a quick patrol of the area, and I made a big circuit.
 
There was nothing unusual to be found.
 
I went and stared at the huge stone.
 
Just then the edge of the moon appeared from behind the clouds.
 
Its light fell upon it.
 
The markings had become visible again, dark, upon the illuminated surface.
 
I went and sat by Jack's satchel.

    
The vicar had on a dark cloak which made a swishing sound as he moved.
 
It did not conceal the fact that he was a short, slightly fat man, and it neither added to nor detracted from his appearance of menace.
 
That was all in his face, with its intense expression of controlled mania.
 
The moon was doubled in his glasses.

    
Under their joint ministrations the banefire grew to a respectable size.
 
The vicar was the first to toss something into it, a small parcel which crackled and flared bluely.
 
I took a sniff.
 
It involved herbs I'd encountered before.
 
Morris added two parcels, which I could tell involved bones.
 
Jack added a very small one which produced a green flash.
 
I tossed in one of my own, along with the pissed-on stick.
 
The moon slid completely free of the clouds.

    
The vicar went and stared at the inscription, not even glancing at his stepdaughter.
 
Then he backed away, turned to his left, took several paces, halted, turned back toward the stone.
 
He adjusted his position slightly, then scuffed at the ground with his bootheel.

    
"I will position myself here," he stated, glancing at Jack.

    
"I have no objection," Jack said.
 
"Your associates will be to your right, I presume?"

    
"That was what I had in mind.
 
Morris here, MacCab to his right, then Jill," he said, gesturing.

    
Jack nodded, just as a dark shape swept past the face of the moon.
 
Moments later, Nightwind dropped out of the sky, coming to rest atop the woodpile.

    
"Hello, Snuff," he observed.
 
"Care to switch?"

    
"No, thanks.
 
Yourself?"

    
He did one of those unusual rotations of his head.

    
"I think not, especially when we outnumber you in all respects."

    
Shortly, Tekela swept in with a caw, landing upon the vicar's left shoulder.

    
"Greetings, Nightwind," she said.

    
"A good Game to you, sister."

    
She looked at me and looked away.
 
She said nothing.
 
Neither did I.

    
Everyone added more kindling and more ingredients to the fire.
 
Finally, a pair of fairly large logs were set upon it.
 
Many-colored flames played about them, and soon the logs darkened and the fires danced upon their surfaces.
 
A mixture of odors reached me as powders, bones, herbs, fleshy samples of anatomy, both human and other, were added.
 
A few vials of liquid were also dumped upon it, to smolder and produce heavy, crawling ropes of smoke, to flare brightly, briefly.
 
Within the crackling, I seemed to hear a subliminal whispering begin.

    
I heard Jill's footsteps mounting the northern slope long before she appeared.
 
When she did she was hard to distinguish against the night for several moments, as she had on a hooded black cloak over a long black dress.
 
She looked taller, more slim; and she carried Graymalk, though she set her down immediately when she achieved the level area.

    
"Good evening," she said, in general.
 
All four men responded.

    
"Hi, Snuff," Graymalk said, coming up beside me.
 
"It's a good fire already."

   
 
"Yes."

    
"As you can see. . . ."

    
"You were overridden."

    
"Did you find Larry?"

    
"No."

    
"Oh my."

    
"There is a backup plan," I said, and Nightwind came by just then, to greet Graymalk.

    
I felt a strong desire to howl at the moon.
 
It was such a howlable moon.
 
But I restrained myself.

    
The smell of incense reached me.
 
Jill had just begun casting parcels into the banefire.
 
The moon moved nearer to midheaven.

    
"How will we know when it is time to begin?" Graymalk asked me.

    
"When we can talk with the people."

    
"Of course."

    
"How's your back?"

    
"It's all right now.
 
You look fit."

    
"I'm fine."

    
We watched the fire for a time.
 
Another log was added, and more packets.
 
The smells became a sweetly seductive bouquet.
 
The flames leaped higher now, changing colors regularly, flickering in the wind.
 
Sharp, tinkling musical sounds came sporadically from their midst, and the sounds of voices rose into and out of audibility.
 
Looking away from it, my gaze was attracted by a new light source.
 
The inscription was beginning to glow.
 
Overhead, the moon had reached midheaven.

    
"Jack, can you hear me?" I called.

    
"Loud and clear, Snuff.
 
Well-met by moonlight.
 
What's on your mind?"

    
"Just checking the time," I said.

    
Suddenly Nightwind was talking to Morris and MacCab, Tekela to the vicar.

    
"I guess it's time," Graymalk said, "to take our places."

    
"It is," I replied.

    
She went off to collect Jill, who was tossing a final packet into the fire.
 
The air was distorted above its colored flames now, as if it were burning in more than one place simultaneously, and in the shimmering area just about it one could catch glimpses of some of those other places.
 
From somewhere to the north, I heard the howl of a wolf.

    
The vicar went and stood at the spot he had indicated.
 
Morris and MacCab moved to take up their positions to his right; Nightwind stood atop a rock between them.
 
Then Jill moved to stand beside MacCab, Graymalk next to her but three cat-paces forward.
 
I went and stood near her, Jack to my right.
 
The line was bowed, out away from the big stone, with Jack and the vicar across from each other.
 
Lynette dozed on the altar about ten feet in front of me.

    
From somewhere within his cloak, the vicar removed the pentacle bowl, which he placed on the ground before him.
 
Then he withdrew the Alhazred Icon, which he propped against a rock to his left, facing the glowing stone.
 
Nightwind moved to a new position, back behind the pentacle.
 
The openers always begin things, as the closers' work is purely reactive.

    
Jack's satchel, to his right, was already open, from the removal of various ingredients for the banefire, but he leaned and spread its mouth fully, for easy access.

    
MacCab knelt and spread a piece of white cloth upon the ground before him.
 
As it was windy, he weighted its corners with small stones.
 
Then, from an ornate sheath which hung from his belt beneath his jacket, he drew a long, thin blade which looked to me like a sacrificial knife, and he placed this upon the cloth, point toward the altar.

    
Then the moon went out.
 
We all looked upward as a dark shape covered it, descending, rushing toward us.
 
Morris shrieked shrilly as it fell, changing shape as if dark veils swam about it.
 
And then the moon shone again, and the piece of midnight sky which had fallen came to earth beside Jack, and I saw that vision-twisting transformation of which Graymalk had spoken, here, there, a twist, a swirl, a dark bending, and the Count stood at Jack's side, smiling a totally evil smile.
 
He laid his left hand, the dark ring visible upon it, upon Jack's right shoulder.