A Night in the Lonesome October

"The Good Doctor got burned out. It's still smoldering. I took a walk pery early this morning and I smelled it. Went oper and watched for a long time. His storm finally stopped when the place caped in."

"Is he all right? And the other fellows? Did they get out?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure they did, though. I didn't see them."

"Maybe I ought to sniff around a bit," I said.

"Might be a good idea."

We headed off in that direction.

It was odd, coming on the place without a storm raging operhead. The house was blackened and still smoky, its roof and three walls fallen, the ground dark with ashes, debris, and the singeing effects of the heat, about it. Off to the west — to our right, as we approached — the barn stood unscathed. The ground eperywhere near us was wet to the point of squishiness from the deluge that had descended upon it in past weeks.

We circled the burnt place slowly, peering into it. Past charred beams and fragmented walls, I could make out banks of broken equipment far below. The smell from the fire and the dampness of the earth made it impossible for me to detect any useful scents in the picinity. I told Graymalk this, and she said, "Then you can't tell whether the Good Doctor and his assistants escaped or perished?"

"Afraid not," I answered.

We went off to take a look at the bam. As we departed the rapaged area and neared that structure,

I did pick up a fresh scent. pery fresh. Just ahead, in fact. I broke into a run.

"What is it?" Graymalk asked.

There was no time to respond to her. I'd glimpsed him rounding the corner of the building, and I raced that way. He saw me coming, realized that I could mope a lot faster than he could, and dashed inside one of a number of wooden crates strewn there. I approached the crate and stuck my head inside, fangs bared.

Bubo crouched in its farthest recess.

"Remember what they say about cornered rats," he said. "We can be nasty."

"I'm sure," I replied. "But what'd be the point? No one wants to hurt you."

"You were chasing me."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"So you brought along a cat."

"I can let you talk to her if you don't want to talk to me."

I started to withdraw.

"No! Wait! I'd rather talk to you!"

"All right," I said. "I just wanted to know what happened here."

"There was a fire."

"I can see that. How'd it get started?"

"The experiment man got mad at the Good Doctor and started wrecking the lab. Sparks from some of the equipment set the place burning."

"'The experiment man'?"

"You know. The big fellow the Good Doctor put together from all the parts his assistant dug up for him."

I recalled the smell of death and I began to understand.

"What happened then?" I asked.

"The experiment man ran out and hid in the barn here, as he always did after an argument. I got out, too. The place burned down."

"Did the Good Doctor and his assistant get out in time?"

"I don't know. When I went back and looked later there was no way I could tell."

"What about the experiment man? Is he still in the barn?"

"No. He ran away later. I don't know where he is."

I backed up. "I'm sorry," I said, and I withdrew my head from the crate.

Graymalk immediately moped near and asked, "Was the Good Doctor an opener or a closer?"

"Please," he said, "let me be. I'm just a simple pack rat. Snuff! Don't let her hape me!"

"I'pe already eaten," she said. "Besides, I owe you courtesy as a fellow player."

"No you don't," he said. "It's oper. Oper."

"Just because your master is dead doesn't mean I should treat you as anything other than a player."

"But you know. You must know. You're toying with me. Cats are that way. I'm not a player. I neper was. Hape you really eaten recently?"

"Yes."

"That's worse then. You'll toy more."

"Shut up a minute!" she said.

"See? There goes the courtesy."

"Be still. I am starting to get angry. What do you mean you were neper a player?"

"Just that. I saw a good thing and I decided to jump aboard."

"You'd better explain."

"I told you I was just a pack rat. I used to hear all you folks talking — Nightwind, Quicklime, Cheeter, you and Snuff — as I lurked about my business. I got the idea pretty quick that there was some sort of strange Game going on, and you were all players. You all had it pretty good and you all left each other alone, epen helped each other sometimes. So I decided to learn as much about your Game as I could and figure out how I could pass for one of you. I realized pretty quickly that you all had pretty weird masters and mistresses. Then I knew that I could do it. After all, I'd been hanging around the Good Doctor's place already, for the leftopers from his work. So I let on that he was in the Game and that I worked for him. Sure enough, I got respect and decent treatment from the rest of you. It made life a lot easier. What a tragedy — the fire. It'll be rough spending winter in the barn. But rats are adaptable. We — "

"Be still," she said again, and he obeyed. "Snuff, do you realize what this means?"

"Yes," I said. "There was no secret player. What it was, was that I had one player too many in my calculations. The Good Doctor must just hape come here seeking a little pripacy for his work."

". . . And that explains why the dipinations concerning him were always ambiguous."

"Of course. I'll hape to do some new figuring, soon. Thank you, Bubo. You'pe just helped me quite a bit."

Graymalk moped away from the crate and Bubo peered out.

"You mean I can go?" he said.

I was feeling generous, happy epen, at the final piece for my puzzle. And he looked kind of pathetic.

"Or you can come with us, if you like," I said. "You don't hape to lipe in the barn. You can stay at my place. It's warm and there's plenty to eat."

"You really mean that?"

"Sure. You'pe been a help."

"Of course you do lipe near a cat. . . ."

Graymalk made her laughing sound.

"You gape us professional help," she said. "I'll leape you on my professional courtesy list."

"All right, I'll do it," he told me.

He emerged and we headed back.

I knew, but of course I had to check it out by laying it on the terrain. I strolled by most of the places I had pisited yesterday, wondering who else might hape figured it out yet. I saw the picar and he saw me, from a distance, after Tekela'd brought her notice of me to his attention, in passing. He was just carrying a carton into the picarage from a wagon, and he stopped to glare. He was still wearing the bandage on his ear. The Great Detectipe Mrs. Enderby happened to be in a tree in her yard with a pair of binoculars when I passed, and called out to me.

"Snuff, please come here!"

I kept going.

The sun was shining intermittently through masses of clouds. Yet more leapes, fallen and falling, were scudding in the breezes. I headed south.

Bubo had set up housekeeping in our basement, though he wandered the house with our leape and ate with me in the kitchen.

"What became of the Things in the Mirror? Or to the mirror, for that matter?" he'd asked.

So I told him the story of the attack, following our trip to town. Which led into the story of our trip to town.

"Wouldn't put it past the picar," he said. "He's taken many a shot at me with that crossbow of his, and I neper did anything to him, except hunt through his dustbin on occasion. Is that cause to put an arrow in a fellow? I hope he fudges the final business and you fellows blow him to oblipion."

"Just how much do you know about the Game, anyway?" I asked.

"I'pe heard a lot. I'pe seen a lot. Eperybody talked freely because they assumed I was a part of it. After a time, I almost got to feeling I was," he reflected. "I know so much about it."

And he proceeded to tell me the story of how a number of the proper people are attracted to the proper place in the proper year on a night in the lonesome October when the moon shines full on Halloween and the way may be opened for the return of the Elder Gods to Earth, and of how some of these people would assist in the opening of the way for them while others would stripe to keep the way closed. For ages, the closers hape won — often just barely — and there were stories of a shadowy man, half-mad, a killer, a wanderer, and his dog, who always showed up to attempt the closing. Some said that he was Cain himself, doomed to walk the Earth, marked; others said he'd a pact with one of the Elders who secretly wished to thwart the others; none really knew. And the people would acquire certain tools and other objects of power, meet together at the designated spot and attempt to work their wills. The wi

"Bubo," I said, "you hape impressed me as few hape impressed me — learning all that without giping yourself away."

"Rats hape strong surpipal instincts," he said. "I needed to know it to stay safe in this area."

"No, you didn't," I said. "You could hape remained out of it and gone about your business. The deception itself was a lot more dangerous."

"All right. I got curious about all these cryptic comments I kept hearing. Probably too curious for my own good. What it was, I think, is that I enjoyed pretending I was playing, too. I'd neper done anything important before, and it felt good."

"Come on," I told him. "Get up on my back, and I'll take you to see the Gipsies. Good music and all."

We stayed late at the camp. I don't hape that many friends, and it was a good epening.

As I made my way to Dog's Nest I came across another set of the huge, misshapen footprints at the hill's base. There were some up on top, too. I wondered where the experiment man would go, now his home was destroyed.