The Black Throne

Valdemar's eyes came open immediately when I raised the lid, without any preliminary mesmerism. The daylight did not seem to be bothering him either. Ligeia gave me a strange look and passed her hands above him then. Even before she had finished, he spoke: "What place is this?" he asked. It was not at all like him to initiate conversation.

"This is Santa Creus, near Tarragona, in Aragon," she answered.

"What is there that is special about it?"

"The Red Death has apparently taken a massive toll here," she said.

"Ah!" he said. "Those lucky, lucky dead! How fine! How fortunate! Gladly would I trade caskets with any of them. To sleep! Perchance never to dream!"

I cleared my throat.

"I hate to keep bothering you with the mundane and earthly," I said, "but there's no one else I can ask."

"I understand your mortal predicament," he replied. "Ask."

"There is a huge abbey near here. We just visited the place," I explained. "There seems to be no way in.

It is guarded. The doors are even welded shut. But I believe that Von Kempelen is inside, and possibly A

His eyes rolled back suddenly, showing only the whites once more. His hands fell into place across his breast. There was a long pause before he spoke, then, "There is a secret passage from the abbey to the city," came his sepulchral tones. "A tu

Again, silence.

Finally, "Could you be more specific?" I inquired.

"No," he replied. "But Von Kempelen is within, and there is that ambiguous quality I have learned to associate with A

"Could it also be as it was in Toledo? Confusion at the crossing of her path?"

"Yes."

"Still, I have no choice."

He said nothing.

"The tu

"The only one that I see. Let me rest."

I executed the dismissing gesture myself, without thinking. His eyes closed and the lid slammed. At this, Grip did his champagne uncorking sound.

In a little while we were loaded again and on our way into town.

We parked in a mews near the plaza, and I hung my saber from my belt. The afternoon was ru

And so we hiked about, Emerson flitting from building to building and through an occasional treetop, pacing us. The town was very quiet. Storefronts were boarded over. We saw no one, heard no voices.

"Does it bother you that the plague has passed this way, and something of its essence may still linger?" I asked Peters.

His grin remained constant.

"When yer time's up, yer time's up," he said. "An' if it ain't, it ain't."

"I'm not quite that fatalistic about it," I said, "but I've a feeling I'd have learned from Valdemar if this were too risky a sojourn."

"More likely Ligeia'd've said something."

"What do you mean?"

"She's more'n a fancy hand-waver to put folks asleep," he said. "Told you that back aboard ship."

"You mean she's a witch? A sorceress?"

"I 'spect," he replied softly.

We passed through an area where there had been some burning, where blackened, half-fallen, windowless shells lay amid puddles and weeds. The odor of stagnant water came to my nostrils, along with assorted smells of decay. Emerson perforce descended to ground level here and shambled beside us for a time.

At length we passed out of this section of town and came into a rundown area crossed by rutted roadways. As we followed it Emerson vanished again. It became obvious to us that all of these buildings had been broken into. In consideration of the cost of moving things—as well as the time of additional exposure involved in transport—the merchants had counted on the simple security of boards and nails for protecting their goods. Some inhabitants of this place had not fled, it would seem, and had engaged in a bit of looting.

Walking a bit farther we had almost passed a great decaying hulk of a building when we heard a sound of laughter from within. It was not the cheerful laughter of good fellowship, but rather a barking, fiendish sound. Still... . I exchanged glances with Peters and he nodded.

We approached the structure's front and Peters gave to the door such a kick that it flew inward and banged against the wall. I might have preferred stealth, but Peters—then, as always—seemed absolutely without fear. He appeared to possess an extreme confidence in his own physical ability to extract himself from any situation.

The laughter died immediately. Entering, we discovered the place to be an undertaker's establishment.

Some excellent-seeming caskets were on display—all ebony and silver—and I regretted Valdemar's not being along to see them. Casting about quickly, however, we saw no sign of life. Then Peters pointed to an open trap door in the floor, in a corner to our right. I loosened my saber in its scabbard and we approached.

We looked down into a long range of wine-cellars whence the sound of a bursting bottle occasionally emerged. At the room's center was a table which held an enormous tub. Various flasks, bottles, and jugs were scattered about it. A human skeleton depended from a rafter above it, affixed there to a rig-bolt by means of a stout cord tied about one leg. The other leg jutted grotesquely, and occasional drafts and reactions of the rope caused it to jounce and twirl. There were a number of individuals seated about the table on casket trestles, and some of them seemed to be drinking from very white bowls which were strongly reminiscent of portions of skulls.

I could see the individual at the head of the table—a gaunt, near-emaciated man possessed of an enormously elongated skull, his skin jaundiced to an extreme yellow hue. He was staring back at me.

Across from this man sat two women—one enormously obese, in perfect complement to his lea

There were two more men present, and though the angle of my view did not let me see them well, I could tell that one had enormous ears and bandaged jaws, and the other appeared to be somewhat paralyzed—reclined at an unusual angle, almost deathly still. Most of them wore garments fashioned of shrouds.

I saluted the man who regarded me.

"Good evening," I said.

The man banged the white, scepter-like implement he held upon the tabletop, causing the bottles and skull-bowls to jiggle. The proximity of one turning above him caused me to realize it a thigh bone.

"My friends, we have guests," he a

All heads turned in our direction, save for that of the paralyzed man. He just turned his eyes.

"You're welcome to come below and join us, good sir," the host invited.

Out of his line of sight, I signaled to Peters to remain in reserve.

"All right," I said, and I lowered myself onto the steep stair and descended it.

"And who might we have the honor of entertaining?" he asked.

"My name is Edgar Allan Perry," I replied.

"And I am King, these my pestly court. You are welcome to join us in our drinking and making merry in the face of imminent dissolution. Would you care for a skull of grog?"