The Sorcerer's House by Gene Wolfe
Authors: Gene Wolfe
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Magic, Fantasy - General, Science Fiction & Fantasy, supernatural, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Ex-convicts, Epistolary Fiction, Abandoned houses, Wolfe; Gene - Prose & Criticism
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to Mr. Hardaway that I'm your agent--that I take care of real-estate matters for you."
I assumed, as I believe anyone would, that Doris had been put on the carpet concerning her expense account, and I swore that I would back her to the hilt.
Although she was driving, we shook hands on it. "You see, Mr. Hardaway happened to mention a tract between here and Port Saint Jude, and--what's the matter?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Go on, please."
"Anyway he mentioned a missing owner, and that was when I said, 'Would you repeat that name, sir?' And he said, 'The name is Dunn, Mrs. Griffin. Baxter Dunn.' "
"Well, well."
"Yes, indeed. So I said, 'Why I had lunch with Baxter Dunn just the other day, sir,' and everybody froze. They've been looking for you for three years."
I smiled, trying to make it charming. (
You
look like a shark when you smile, George.) "Not in the right places, apparently."
"Obviously not. There's an attorney named Trelawny involved. Do you know him? Urban Trelawny?"
I shook my head.
"And a man named Skotos. Alexander Skotos. What about him?"
I said, "It sounds familiar, but I can't place him." I said that, George, because I judged it contrary to my best interests to commit myself one way or the other so early. How was I to know whether I had, at some time in what I know you will concede has been a checkered career, come across an Alexander Skotos? Perhaps I had. Or more likely, Alexander Skotos was a name assumed by someone I had known under another appellation. I knew a man called Sandy Scott at Churchill Downs, for example.
"Ahhh," said Doris. She was clearly impressed.
"Will he be there?" I asked. "At your office?"
"No. Definitely not. Have you a place in mind, or do I get to choose the restaurant?"
"You get to choose, of course."
"Fine. We'll want a quiet spot with slow service."
"And good food."
"Absolutely. Mr. Hardaway didn't exactly open up with me."
"I quite understand."
"But Olga told me afterward that they've been looking for you for three years. For a Baxter Dunn, anyway. And there's this big tract of undeveloped land." Doris took a deep breath. "What we're talking about here is a big, big commission, Bax. You've probably guessed that."
"From what you said, it seemed likely."
"Right. Nobody's said that. Nobody's mentioned any figures at all, but it was in the air. I could smell it. Have you ever been poor?"
"No," I said, "but I've been broke. It's not exactly the same thing."
"You're right, it isn't. And now that I think about it--" She stopped at a traffic light and turned to give me another most fetching smile. "I believe I was broke, too. I still am, or almost. Ted made good money, but he didn't have much life insurance."
"What a pity!"
"Yes, isn't it? It took a lot of what we had just to bury him, and there were medical bills. There
are
, I ought to say. I haven't paid them all yet."
"I know the feeling. Did we just pass your office?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a parking place. They're not easy to find at this hour."
We pulled into one, and she turned off the engine. "I was going to say I was glad I put gas in this last night, because I was thinking of a place way out of town, but . . ."
"Yes?" I asked.
"But that's really wrong. It would be foolish, in fact. What I want--what I need, Bax--is a place where people from my office will see us eating together. The place I've got in mind is fairly expensive. It's not terrible, but it is a little pricey. Would that be all right? I promise to order something cheap."
I said it would be fine, and that she could order anything she wanted.
"It's the main dining room at the Hilton. They have a great chef."
"In that case, let's go there."
"Our people take clients there when there's a big deal in prospect. I'll make a reservation."
Which she did when we reached her office, telephoning from her desk. After that, we spoke with Mr. Hardaway; but this letter has grown too long already.
Yours sincerely,
Bax
Number 13
M OUTHPIECE
Okay,
I assumed, as I believe anyone would, that Doris had been put on the carpet concerning her expense account, and I swore that I would back her to the hilt.
Although she was driving, we shook hands on it. "You see, Mr. Hardaway happened to mention a tract between here and Port Saint Jude, and--what's the matter?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Go on, please."
"Anyway he mentioned a missing owner, and that was when I said, 'Would you repeat that name, sir?' And he said, 'The name is Dunn, Mrs. Griffin. Baxter Dunn.' "
"Well, well."
"Yes, indeed. So I said, 'Why I had lunch with Baxter Dunn just the other day, sir,' and everybody froze. They've been looking for you for three years."
I smiled, trying to make it charming. (
You
look like a shark when you smile, George.) "Not in the right places, apparently."
"Obviously not. There's an attorney named Trelawny involved. Do you know him? Urban Trelawny?"
I shook my head.
"And a man named Skotos. Alexander Skotos. What about him?"
I said, "It sounds familiar, but I can't place him." I said that, George, because I judged it contrary to my best interests to commit myself one way or the other so early. How was I to know whether I had, at some time in what I know you will concede has been a checkered career, come across an Alexander Skotos? Perhaps I had. Or more likely, Alexander Skotos was a name assumed by someone I had known under another appellation. I knew a man called Sandy Scott at Churchill Downs, for example.
"Ahhh," said Doris. She was clearly impressed.
"Will he be there?" I asked. "At your office?"
"No. Definitely not. Have you a place in mind, or do I get to choose the restaurant?"
"You get to choose, of course."
"Fine. We'll want a quiet spot with slow service."
"And good food."
"Absolutely. Mr. Hardaway didn't exactly open up with me."
"I quite understand."
"But Olga told me afterward that they've been looking for you for three years. For a Baxter Dunn, anyway. And there's this big tract of undeveloped land." Doris took a deep breath. "What we're talking about here is a big, big commission, Bax. You've probably guessed that."
"From what you said, it seemed likely."
"Right. Nobody's said that. Nobody's mentioned any figures at all, but it was in the air. I could smell it. Have you ever been poor?"
"No," I said, "but I've been broke. It's not exactly the same thing."
"You're right, it isn't. And now that I think about it--" She stopped at a traffic light and turned to give me another most fetching smile. "I believe I was broke, too. I still am, or almost. Ted made good money, but he didn't have much life insurance."
"What a pity!"
"Yes, isn't it? It took a lot of what we had just to bury him, and there were medical bills. There
are
, I ought to say. I haven't paid them all yet."
"I know the feeling. Did we just pass your office?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a parking place. They're not easy to find at this hour."
We pulled into one, and she turned off the engine. "I was going to say I was glad I put gas in this last night, because I was thinking of a place way out of town, but . . ."
"Yes?" I asked.
"But that's really wrong. It would be foolish, in fact. What I want--what I need, Bax--is a place where people from my office will see us eating together. The place I've got in mind is fairly expensive. It's not terrible, but it is a little pricey. Would that be all right? I promise to order something cheap."
I said it would be fine, and that she could order anything she wanted.
"It's the main dining room at the Hilton. They have a great chef."
"In that case, let's go there."
"Our people take clients there when there's a big deal in prospect. I'll make a reservation."
Which she did when we reached her office, telephoning from her desk. After that, we spoke with Mr. Hardaway; but this letter has grown too long already.
Yours sincerely,
Bax
Number 13
M OUTHPIECE
Okay,
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