Solomon's Stone

Chapter XIII.

Later, Prosper Nash and Alicia sat side by side on the floor of his room before a small wood fire. They did not talk much, but now and then they kissed.

She said, looking into the flames, "Are you still set on going back to your own plane, Prosper?"

"I dassen't not."

"I suppose so. But I wish now I hadn't urged you to go ahead with your plan."

The kisses got longer and longer. She was, Nash thought, waiting for some sort of declaration.

Well—what could he say? Anything would be wrong. He'd soon be taking both his soul and the chevalier's body away, probably for good. No doubt Bechard would give him back his mundane body in exchange for the astral one.

But this couldn't go on all night. His pulse was racing now.

He took a long look to fix her in his mind. Then he kissed her once more, briefly and gently, and rose."I'm going out," he said. At her look of pain he added: "I think it's the right thing, dear."

"Always trying to do the right thing—but I suppose if you weren't, I wouldn't—" she broke off, staring into the fire.

Out in the cold November dark, Nash jumped a foot at being confronted by a hooded, menacing figure.

"Hey! Easy with the club, m'sieur! I'm de Nêche!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you were one of the local lechers."

Nash laughed."It's Benedict, isn't it?"

"Yes. Did you decide your watchdogs needed reinforcements?"

"Couldn't sleep. Mind if I walk with you?"

"Not in the least. By the way, the abbot asked me to tell you—if you're through with our bedding, we could use it."

"Sure, you can have it all tomorrow. We're pulling out."

"We would not inconvenience you, least of all for our own advantage. But we're taking in a bunch of refugees from Manhattan."

"What's been happening there?" asked Nash.

"Heh, a worldly man... beg pardon... like you asking for news from a monk! Haven't you read the papers?"

"Haven't seen one in days. No time."

The monk explained: "Last Monday the city's Lenin regiment mutinied—revolted. They left their place in the line, marched down to the City Hall, and seized it. They shot several members of the administration and staff; all they could catch, the rest having escaped just before the mutineers arrived."

"Gosh! What happened then?"

"The Lenins issued proclamations to the rest of the troops, saying that Historical Necessity had taken charge of the city, which was now a workers' and peasants' republic; that the loyal troops should obey the Lenins and fight like fiends against the Aryans— But you know their style."

"Think I do," agreed Nash."Go on."

"Of course the loyal troops did nothing of the kind. The Aryans and Romans got wind of treachery among the city's forces and attacked the loyal troops. The Home Guardists stood them off for some hours. Then they gradually learned that their own command had been destroyed by their so-called comrades, and they became discouraged and fled the field. The Aryans, meeting no further resistance, marched down and attacked the Lenins around City Hall. The Lenins fought fiercely, and the last I heard they were still sending out manifestoes calling on the masses to rise, and blaming the disaster on the Private and corporals and the civilian officers of the city, saying they were secretly in league with the Aryans, and so on. As if the people could do anything now that the Aryans control all Manhattan."

"From what I gather," said Nash, "there really aren't any masses in this world: just a minority of soulless ones and a majority of rampant individualists."

"I know," said Brother Benedict."But try to tell that to a Lenin! I've argued with them. For my part, I hold that a villain is no less a villain because he can excuse his crimes by fine words about Class Loyalty, Bourgeois Morality, and Dialectical Materialism."

"What happened to the loyal part of the army?" asked Nash.

"Many of them escaped to Brooklyn, where they are reorganizing to carry on the fight. Every boat in lower Manhattan was seized that afternoon by fleeing soldiers and civilians."

"They sent a mess—" Nash broke off as the horrible suspicion that his conscious mind had been trying to suppress at last broke through. He remembered the soldier who had burst in on the Private while Nash was speaking with him; this man had said something about "Lenins." Arizona Bill Averoff must somehow have failed to deliver the message—

"Keep a stiff upper lip," he thought. If it does turn out that the disaster was your fault, it'll be time enough then to do something dramatic.

"Where did the Aryans come from?" he asked.

"These pagan savages began appearing in Yorkville ten years ago," Benedict told him."The New York City government temporized with them until they were numerous enough to revolt. They somehow got an alliance with the Romans, who up to then had been fairly good citizens most of the time.

"You can neither argue with nor evangelize nor intimidate an Aryan. The only thing that does any permanent good is to kill him, God forgive me. And it strikes me, Chevalier, that you would be better occupied—"

"I know," said Nash."We've got guys like that at home. One of these day% I'll be needed back there."

Merlin Apollonius Stark grinned like a bearded cherub."Good morning, de Nêche; bright and early I see. I've got good news: the watch... say, what's the matter with you? Look like you'd been drug through a knothole."

"Didn't sleep well," growled Nash.

"I guessed that; but there's something else. Come, tell Papa Merlin. You're in love, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh. If you're so smart, maybe you can tell me what to do about it. What would happen if I stayed here?"

Stark shrugged."That's up to Bechard. When a mundane body abandons an astral congener to create another, the first astral body goes on living unchanged until some accident causes its dissolution. But sometimes a mundane body, instead of abandoning its creation outright, will slowly change it. They do pretty horrible things to us sometimes."

"Would Bechard know about that?"

"He would unless he's even dumber than most demons."

"But if I go back with the Shamir, I'll take this body with me, so she'll be left with nothing at all. Could you... uh... exorcise me, so she'd—"

"Altruistic devil, aren't you? They get that way sometimes. Wouldn't do any good; your soul couldn't take the Shamir back by itself, and without it Bechard wouldn't let you back into your own body. So you'd bounce right back up."

Nash twisted his strong fingers together."Could you send her back with me?"

"Sorry, but the Shamir's a one-man vehicle."

"What then? There must be some way out for us."

"You'll get over it."

"But I don't want to—"

"Oh, for Och's sake! I'm a magician, not a lovelorn column editor! I was trying to tell you that your watch will be ready this afternoon. If you can locate your two assistants, you could leave this evening, and raid Tukiphat's Island before dawn. I'd strongly advise it, if possible. Have you got any helpers yet?"

"My girl friend, Alicia Woodson."

"How about the third?"

"Haven't anybody. I don't suppose you'd consider... uh—"

"Good Uriel, no! I wouldn't say 'boo' to Tukiphat, and anyway I have my practice to look after."

"Well, there are one or two pretty good guys I knew in New York, but I don't know where they are."

"Take too long to locate them, by natural means or otherwise," said Stark."I do know a local condottiere—that is, he was a condottiere until Alessandro got the better of all his fellow cutthroats and became a champion of law and order. This man, Muzio Sforza d'Amelio, has done one or two jobs for me, and I haven't had cause for complaint."

"Would you advise me to trust him?" asked Nash worriedly.

"I advise you to trust nobody, but you have to make use of people now and then. As I say, d'Amelio has been honest enough in his dealings with me, and before that he had a fairly good reputation as mercenary soldiers go."

"Well, are you specifically recommending him?"

"No, I'm not. I'm merely calling him to your attention. Another advantage is that he speaks Italian, so he might be able to talk you out of trouble if the Romans or Aryans stopped you."

"If I could interview him first—"

"Can do. Paraldine, take a telepathic message." The wizard and his secretary both shut their eyes and concentrated for some minutes. Then Stark opened his.

"O. K., he'll be in some time this afternoon. Guess we'd better do the same for your Alicia. Paraldine, a copy to the chevalier's friend, Miss Alicia Woodson. And now, my friend, you're going to tell me all about the mundane plane. Oh, before we begin, we might... uh... ahem—"

"Settle the vulgar financial details?" grinned Nash."Here you are."

Stark smiled broadly as he counted the money."Put it in the safe, Paraldine, and get your shorthand pad ready."

All morning Nash talked. He gave an hour to his own humdrum biography, and in response to Stark's questions went off into the science, religion, social customs, and other facets of his civilization.

Paraldine brought a couple of light lunches and put them on the wizard's desk. Nash looked at his and said: "Thanks, but I don't think I could eat any lunch."

Stark shook a commiserating head."Boy, you sure have got a bad case. Try some of this sherry; it's a good antidote for lovesickness."

Nash tried, and eventually was able to choke down his food. The doorbell rang; the sylph went out and returned with a small package which proved to contain the watch from Nathan.

"It'll do," said Stark after a critical examination."Go on with your talk; I want to hear more about that nice kind Inquisition."

By three o'clock Nash's throat was sore. Stark held up a hand."I think that'll do. You've answered all the crucial questions you could. And I see your lady fair approaching."

When Alicia was admitted, she reported to Nash: "The girls are all on their way, and the blankets are all returned, and the slaves are all auctioned off."

"How did they like it?"

"The girls?"

"No, the slaves."

"They were delighted. But I couldn't get rid of the menagerie; nobody would take them even as a gift."

Nash sighed."I can see why. What'll we do with them? Give them to Duke Alessandro?"

"What's this?" Stark broke in. Nash told him about the sultan's ape and saber-tooth.

Alicia added: "We have food enough to keep 'em happy for a couple of days, and I got their formulas and commands from their keepers. You say accumbe when you want them to lie down, and carpe when you want them to tear somebody to pieces. That's about all."

Stark suggested: "Why not take them along with you? They seem to be fairly docile as long as they're fed, and they'd give you prestige with the Aryans. Not many would try to stop you if you were leading those animals on leashes."

"Wouldn't they attract attention?" asked Nash.

"Maybe, but you can expect some attention from the Aryans anyway. The only way to deal with an Aryan is to step on his toes until he apologizes." Stark looked at his own watch, and set the altered stop watch by it."D'Amelio ought to be here. Suppose you people help me enchant the props; save time.

"Paraldine, take a spell. Three copies, marked for cues:

" 'I do hereby adjure thee, Watch, by Uriel, Seraph, Ablati, and Agla, that when thou dost enter any enchanted zone wherein the time rate is slowed, the time rate of him who carries thee shall be accelerated even as thy hour-hand shall be accelerated. I command thee in the names of Cronus, Tempus, and Wyrd, that the same acceleration shall apply to the clothes and effects of him who carries thee, and his companions and conveyance. Be faithful to thy trust in the name of Jod, Metraton, by the virtue of the heavens, the stars, the angels, the planets, and the stones; Adon, Schadai, Zeboth; Eloi, Ha, Jo Theos—' "

It went on like this for a whole page. Stark rapidly dictated four more spells; one to immobilize Tukiphat, and one each on a rope, a seal, and a stick of sealing wax wherewith to bind him.

The bell rang, announcing Muzio Sforza D'Ame-lio, who turned out to be a big burly fellow in colorful Fifteenth-Century costume and a ready smile. Stark showed them into a small private room and left them to confer.

When he had heard Nash's proposal, d'Amelio said: "Soundsa like a fina job! I don' know if a poor littla fella lika me woulda be mucha help, but I lika to try!"

He had charm. When Nash offered him five hundred down and five hundred when the job was finished he jumped at it so quickly that Nash mentally kicked himself for not making a lower offer. Nash was not altogether satisfied with such an impromptu arrangement, but the ten days allowed him by Bechard were running short.

Paraldine had meanwhile typed all the spells in triplicate. Stark took his three visitors into the spell room, which was simply a big, dark, rather bare room with magical devices stacked here and there.

Instead of drawing pentacles on the floor, Stark went over to a pile of circular pieces of linoleum, three to four feet in diameter, on which, the magical diagrams were already drawn. He tossed four of these on the floor, and put Nash and Alicia in the centers of two of them.

The magus lit a fire in a tripod, passed the watch quickly through the flame, blew on it, and sprinkled it with a pinch of earth and a few drops of water. Then he wiped it and put it in the middle of the center pentacle. He took his position on the remaining one and began reading the spell. Nash and Alicia, according to instructions, chimed in with choruses at certain points, meanwhile turning round and round like dervishes. Nash became dizzy and almost reeled out of his circle before a snap of Stark's fingers warned him to control his body.

There were similar performances for the other articles."Now," said Stark, "we'll have a little rehearsal of the binding of Tukiphat. Miss Woodson will read the initial fixation. Muzio, being the biggest, will handle the rope, and de Nêche the seal. You'll have to work fast, because that initial fixation won't hold Tuky much more than a minute."

They went to work. With the fixation spell the magician's limbs became rigid. D'Amelio looped the rope around him as he had been instructed. Nash lit one of the oversized matches he had been given, melted a gob of wax onto the crossing of the rope ends, and gave it a poke with the seal, which had a hexagram with the Greek letters alpha and omega and the Hebrew letters jod, vau, and two he's.

"Swell!" said Stark."Now if you'll just break this seal, de Nêche—"

"No, damn it, it worked on me too! That's how I know you did it right."

"I theenk it woulda be fun to leava him there, eh, Chevalier?" grinned d'Amelio.

"Hi!" cried Stark in alarm."You can't treat a professional man that way!"

Nash took his time about breaking the seal, commenting : "Seems to me, Merlin, old mage, that we put as much work into this preparation as you did, and we don't get paid for it."

"True. But you paid me, not for what I did, but for knowing how to do it! Thanks. Now you three run along, collect your beasties, and lead them down to Pier 9. You'll find a boat there to take you to Manhattan. Paraldine's already contacted the skipper; name of Jones. No extra charge, de Nêche, if that's what you're looking worried about."

The little steam launch lay moored to Pier 9; a man in a brass-buttoned coat and sideburns leaned against the stack chewing tobacco. He took in the party and said: "Ahoy, be you the passengers for Manhattan? Cap'n Jones. Hi, you ain't gonna take those animules aboard?"

"Oh, signor captain!" said d'Amelio."Thosa littla creaturesa, they would not hurt a fly!"

"Mebbe not, but I ain't no fly! Oh, well, belay 'em to the quatterdeck. Say, Mr. de Nêche, ain't I seen you somewheres?"

"Might," said Nash."Is your name... uh... Ahab Dana Jones?"

"Sure thing! I remember now! You was the man we horned in on when he was fighting the Saracens. Remember the hoss you guv me? That furnished the down payment on this little ship. Cast off, Walter."

The launch wheezed northward in the deepening gloom of an overcast November evening. Smiley and Kulu huddled together as far from the water as they could get.

The skipper spat tobacco juice with carefully calculated trajectory, and said: "Don't get many passengers for Manhattan; everybody that can, wants to get away. Say, Mr. de Nêche, seems to me I heard your name somewheres else. Ain't you the one the Manhattan Government in Exile is lookin' for to hang for desertion?"

Nash swallowed and answered: "I didn't know they'd gone that far. What happened?"

"You and that fella—Average?"

"Averoff?" suggested Nash.

"Yeah. Heh, heh, I heard the hull yarn. They say you gave this here cowboy a message to a Sergeant Berl you was supposed to take yourself, and then you vamoosed. Is that right?"

"More or less. I had good reasons, though."

"Ain't sayin' you didn't. All I know is what I heard."

"What else did you hear?" Nash felt a peculiar tightness around his throat as if the noose were already tightening. He must have hung up a record for making enemies during his short stay.

"It was a queer thing. This cowboy, Averoff, talks with a New York accent, and don't make no difference between 'Berl' and 'Boyle'; calls 'em both 'buh-eel. ' So when he found a Sergeant Boyle he thought he had Sergeant Berl, and guv him the message, which was an order to disarm the Lenin regiment. But Sergeant Boyle's brigade was on the wrong end of the front, and before he could do anything the Lenins had mutinied. I just heard today the Arries finally took City Hall and shot all the Lenins. Serves 'em right, heh, heh, "