The Black Throne

"It's possible," she said. "Yes, that would explain many things. There is that about him which is unusual, and dark."

"Then I still say we should flee now," I said. "It does not seem to me that it matters so much whether Von Kempelen makes the deal with Templeton and Goodfellow here and now, as it does whether they actually get together with Griswold and perform whatever processes are involved. I say we flee now and foil them later, in America. Ellison could probably bankroll a private army for us back home, if that's what it takes."

She shook her head.

"We don't know why Griswold left," she said. "But there is no need that he be present for the process to occur. What if Templeton and Goodfellow come to terms with Von Kempelen here, and they decide actually to conduct the work here? If they succeed in transmuting any substantial amount of metal we will never see Poe again."

"They won't do it. Poe is still safe," I told her. "No one in his right mind would make gold while in the power of someone like Prospero. And don't tell me they'll do it in secret. Gold is heavy stuff. It would be ridiculous to manufacture it in a place like this, and then face all the perils of transporting it. Let them make their deal if they must. We'll stop them later."

"I am sorry," she said. "We ca

"If you're drugged? Mesmerized?"

"I'll be careful what I eat and drink. And I'm stronger than Templeton. They won't be able to use me again, as they did in the past."

"If you're no longer of use they may decide to dispose of you. These are ruthless men."

"No," she stated, "I'm certain they need me for something else. Later."

I recalled Ligeia's words about the sacrifice of her personality, and I shuddered. But there was nothing I could say on this count, since I didn't understand it and I'd no way to back it up with an explanation.

At that moment, I recalled killing a man. It was in the line of duty, under battle conditions. What difference does it really make whether you're wearing a uniform, or whether he is? Dead is dead. Why should the state have a monopoly on deciding who deserves it? It occurred to me that the simplest answer to our problem would be for me to kill Von Kempelen. Let the secret die with him. A

"Perry!"

A

"Please don't. Please don't do it," she said.

"What— What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I saw you with a bloody blade, standing above Von Kempelen," she said. "You must promise me that you will not kill him. Please! We must find another way."

I laughed.

"Please," she repeated.

"I just had a vision myself," I said, "of what it might be like living with someone like you. A man could never have an affair, or sneak off for a few pints with his friends."

She smiled.

"I only see things with a terrible urgency about them," she explained.

"Just what I said. Do you see my promise, too?"

She nodded.

"I'll have to find another way," I said.

"Thanks," she told me. "I'm sure you will."

We walked some more, and she took us into the north building, giving us the general layout of the place, showing us where Templeton's, Goodfellow's, and Von Kempelen's rooms were located, showing us the great dining hall with its enormous ebony clock making a dull thunder where it stood against the western wall. A

Later, I suggested to Peters that we kidnap her, spirit her out of there that very night, for her own good.

We could head back home then and hunt down Griswold.

"No, sir," he said. "She's another'n—like Ligeia. There's a ghostwind blowin' past 'er. She knows better'n you 'bout these things, an' I'll not be crossin' the likes of 'er."

"People like that aren't always right about everything, Peters."

"You've my last word on it, Eddie."

"All right," I said. "We'll wait and see what develops."

After that, I met with A

I wondered several times, in the days that followed, whether Peters might not have some secret command from Ellison, to follow A

He seemed well on the way himself toward developing strong feelings toward the little dancer, Trippetta—another reason, I suppose, for him not to be too anxious to leave.

So we put more work into our act. We had rehearsed before simply to maintain the appearance of our a

Fortunately nothing like an organized schedule of performances existed. The prince or his steward called now and then, at any hour of the day or night, for one type of amusement or another. Also, many of the performers—musicians or jugglers usually—went freelancing among the crowd of guests, gathering scattered coins against the time when they should be free to leave the abbey and have a chance to spend them.

Peters was somewhat readier than I to take the stage, eager I suppose to do anything that would bring him into more frequent association with Trippetta. And so he actually accompanied a number of clowns and acrobats seeking to increase their number one evening, one of their members having suffered a broken leg during a particularly daring feat. I thought little of it, even on the following day when the troupe was sent for again. It was not until the prince began requesting solo performances of him that I grew concerned. As it turned out, I needn't have.