Husky.”
“Right.” Stancil hurried off.
The light of the comet filled the night with ghosts. The
Barrowland seemed to twist and crawl. Momentary shapes drifted
amongst the brush. Bomanz shuddered and tried to convince himself
that his imagination was acting up now.
Dawn was approaching. Besand was over his shock, sipping broth
Jasmine had sent. Corporal Husky came to report the result of his
investigation. “Couldn’t find anything, sir. Not no
body, not no amulet. Not even no sign of no fight. It’s like
it never happened.”
“I sure as hell didn’t try to kill
myself.”
Bomanz became thoughtful. Had he not overheard the conspirators,
he would have doubted Besand. The man was capable of staging an
assault for sympathy.
“I believe you, sir. I was just saying what I
found.”
“They blew their best chance. We’re warned now. Keep
alert.”
“Better not forget who’s in charge now,”
Bomanz interjected. “Don’t get anybody in trouble with
our new leader.”
“That rockbrain. Do what you can, Husky. Don’t crawl
out on a limb.”
“Yes, sir.” The corporal departed.
Stancil said, “Pop, you ought to get back to the house.
You’re looking grey.”
Bomanz rose. “You all right now?” he asked.
Besand replied, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry
about me. The sun is up. That kind don’t try anything in
broad daylight.”
Don’t bet on it, Bomanz thought. Not if they’re
devotees of the Domination. They’ll bring the darkness to
high noon.
Out of earshot, Stancil said, “I was thinking last night,
Pop. Before this got started. About our name problem. And suddenly
it hit me. There’s an old stone in Oar. A big one with runic
carvings and pictographs. Been around forever. Nobody knows what it
is or where it came from. Nobody really cares.”
“So?”
“Let me show you what’s carved on it.” Stancil
picked up a twig, brushed a dusty area clear of debris. He started
drawing. “There’s a crude star in a circle at the top.
Then some lines of runes nobody can read. I can’t remember
those. Then some pictures.” He sketched rapidly.
“That’s pretty rough.”
“So is the original. But look. This one. Stick figure with
a broken leg. Here. A worm? Here, a man superimposed over an
animal. Here, a man with a lightning bolt. You see? The Limper.
Nightcrawler. Shifter. Stormbringer.”
“Maybe. And maybe you’re reaching.”
Stancil kept drawing. “Okay. That’s the way they are
on the rock. The four I named. In the same order as on your chart.
Look here. At your empty spots. They could be the Taken whose
graves we haven’t identified.” He tapped what looked
like a simple circle, a stick figure with its head cocked, and a
beast head with a circle in its mouth.
“The positions match,” Bomanz admitted.
“So?”
“So what?”
“You’re being intentionally thick, Pop. A circle is
a zero, maybe. Maybe a sign for the one called the Faceless Man or
Nameless man. And here the Hanged Man. And here Moondog or
Moonbiter?”
“I see it. Stance. I’m just not sure I want
to.” He told Stance about having dreamed of a great
wolf’s head snapping at the moon.
“You see? Your own mind is trying to tell you. Go check
the evidence. See if it don’t fit this way.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Why not?”
“I know it by heart. It fits.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure I want to do it anymore.”
“Pop . . . Pop, if you won’t, I
will. I mean it. I’m not going to let you throw away
thirty-seven years. What’s changed, anyway? You gave up a
hell of a future to come out here. Can you just write that
off?”
“I’m used to this life. I don’t mind
it.”
“Pop . . . I’ve met people who
knew you back when. They all say you could have been a great
wizard. They wonder what happened to you. They know that you had
some great secret plan and went off to chase it. They figure
you’re dead now, ’cause anybody with your talent
would’ve
“Right.” Stancil hurried off.
The light of the comet filled the night with ghosts. The
Barrowland seemed to twist and crawl. Momentary shapes drifted
amongst the brush. Bomanz shuddered and tried to convince himself
that his imagination was acting up now.
Dawn was approaching. Besand was over his shock, sipping broth
Jasmine had sent. Corporal Husky came to report the result of his
investigation. “Couldn’t find anything, sir. Not no
body, not no amulet. Not even no sign of no fight. It’s like
it never happened.”
“I sure as hell didn’t try to kill
myself.”
Bomanz became thoughtful. Had he not overheard the conspirators,
he would have doubted Besand. The man was capable of staging an
assault for sympathy.
“I believe you, sir. I was just saying what I
found.”
“They blew their best chance. We’re warned now. Keep
alert.”
“Better not forget who’s in charge now,”
Bomanz interjected. “Don’t get anybody in trouble with
our new leader.”
“That rockbrain. Do what you can, Husky. Don’t crawl
out on a limb.”
“Yes, sir.” The corporal departed.
Stancil said, “Pop, you ought to get back to the house.
You’re looking grey.”
Bomanz rose. “You all right now?” he asked.
Besand replied, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry
about me. The sun is up. That kind don’t try anything in
broad daylight.”
Don’t bet on it, Bomanz thought. Not if they’re
devotees of the Domination. They’ll bring the darkness to
high noon.
Out of earshot, Stancil said, “I was thinking last night,
Pop. Before this got started. About our name problem. And suddenly
it hit me. There’s an old stone in Oar. A big one with runic
carvings and pictographs. Been around forever. Nobody knows what it
is or where it came from. Nobody really cares.”
“So?”
“Let me show you what’s carved on it.” Stancil
picked up a twig, brushed a dusty area clear of debris. He started
drawing. “There’s a crude star in a circle at the top.
Then some lines of runes nobody can read. I can’t remember
those. Then some pictures.” He sketched rapidly.
“That’s pretty rough.”
“So is the original. But look. This one. Stick figure with
a broken leg. Here. A worm? Here, a man superimposed over an
animal. Here, a man with a lightning bolt. You see? The Limper.
Nightcrawler. Shifter. Stormbringer.”
“Maybe. And maybe you’re reaching.”
Stancil kept drawing. “Okay. That’s the way they are
on the rock. The four I named. In the same order as on your chart.
Look here. At your empty spots. They could be the Taken whose
graves we haven’t identified.” He tapped what looked
like a simple circle, a stick figure with its head cocked, and a
beast head with a circle in its mouth.
“The positions match,” Bomanz admitted.
“So?”
“So what?”
“You’re being intentionally thick, Pop. A circle is
a zero, maybe. Maybe a sign for the one called the Faceless Man or
Nameless man. And here the Hanged Man. And here Moondog or
Moonbiter?”
“I see it. Stance. I’m just not sure I want
to.” He told Stance about having dreamed of a great
wolf’s head snapping at the moon.
“You see? Your own mind is trying to tell you. Go check
the evidence. See if it don’t fit this way.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Why not?”
“I know it by heart. It fits.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure I want to do it anymore.”
“Pop . . . Pop, if you won’t, I
will. I mean it. I’m not going to let you throw away
thirty-seven years. What’s changed, anyway? You gave up a
hell of a future to come out here. Can you just write that
off?”
“I’m used to this life. I don’t mind
it.”
“Pop . . . I’ve met people who
knew you back when. They all say you could have been a great
wizard. They wonder what happened to you. They know that you had
some great secret plan and went off to chase it. They figure
you’re dead now, ’cause anybody with your talent
would’ve
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