Gene Wolfe - The Land Across

Naala said, “Rathaus is an Amerikan. She does not know him. Or how?”

“I don’t know, but I can give one way it might happen easy. Remember the magic shop? I told you about it and gave you that card.”

She nodded. “It I still have.”

“Okay. Next door’s a shop where you can buy women’s stuff, clothes, accessories, underwear, all that. Good stuff. Martya has money now, so she goes there. Maybe she’ll buy a silk dress or something. She notices the magic shop next door, she’s curious and she goes in. But before she goes there she’s heard me on the radio. The Legion of the Light has gotten its act together and is broadcasting some of my old recordings. Martya heard one somewhere and recognized my voice.”

Papa Zenon said, “Continue, my son.”

“She would look for me, or anyhow I think she would. While she was in the magic shop she asked somebody in there about me. Did they know me or know where I was, all that shit. They said, no, no, no. But Russ had told them about me, his cellmate. So the next time they saw Russ they told him. He wanted to talk to this girl Martya, so they found her and brought her to him. She was probably staying in a hotel, so it wouldn’t be hard. He got her to work with him after that. That wouldn’t be hard, either.”

Papa Zenon nodded. “He might tell her he was trying to get you out of prison. He may not know that you are free.”

“I’m not exactly free,” I told him. “If Naala wanted to, she could pop me back in today.”

“Then Martya may hope to free you from her.”

Naala made a noise.

“Here’s another idea, a good strong one. Russ has money, quite a bit of it, back in America. If he’s found some way to tap it, he could have real money here. Martya likes money, and the money she got from Kleon’s insurance won’t be much. Russ may have hired her. It could be no more than that.”

Naala said, “Money is always possible. Money or the promise of money. Other things there are also. How do we tell Papa Iason his father dies?”

“We must consider,” Papa Zenon told her. He sounded thoughtful. “There are ways … many ways in which it might be done. I wish to consider all that I can call to mind before we act. Whatever we choose to do must convince.”

“But you tell us, not act alone?”

Slowly, Papa Zenon nodded. “I will consult you. If I cannot persuade you, I must choose another. Or you must.”

I said, “I’ve a question for you both that’s a hell of a lot tougher than that one. How do we keep the Unholy Way from killing Russ after we find him? Suppose the JAKA sticks him back in prison, and in a day or two somebody cuts his throat?”

Papa Zenon said, “He was in prison before, in prison with you. No one tried to take his life, or you would have said this.”

“Sure, because they thought he couldn’t get out. Now they know he can.”

“He will escape again?” Naala asked.

“Or try to. Absolutely.”

“He will succeed?”

I shrugged. “How would I know?”

“I do not ask your knowledge, Grafton, only your opinion. What is it you think?”

“Yes, he will if he lives long enough.”

Papa Zenon added, “Or he may be released.”

“That is better,” Naala said. “Better for us of the JAKA if he is die in the street. To die in prison would appear most bad.”

“Then let him go,” I told her. “Send him to Germany and wash your hands of him.”

“I have not the authority. I can persuade, perhaps. I will try. But now we have say all we have to say, I think.” She pointed a finger at Papa Zenon. “Do not tell Papa Iason of his father’s illness without consulting me, and I will do nothing of that kind without consulting you. You agree?”

“I do, but I am not ready to adjourn. I have never seen the hand. Do you know that? You have seen it, you have held it. Not I, not even for a moment. It moves of itself?”

Naala nodded. “Like a rat it runs. It scuttle on the fingers.”

“Most wonderful!”

I said, “Here’s the way you have to think of it. It’s a young woman’s. She’s dead, but her left hand is still alive. She’s there, it’s still on her arm, but she can’t lift it or anything. She has to move it by moving the fingers.”

“An earthbound spirit.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“These I have encountered before, but not like this. Very much I desire to see the hand, to see it move, and to read what is inscribed upon it. You will show it to me?”

The hand squeezed mine. I thought I knew what that meant, but I was not sure. Then it let go and started to climb out of my pocket. I caught it.

“You are a priest,” Naala was saying. “You will say it must be destroyed. Perhaps you yourself will try to destroy it.”

“If you ask it, yes. Not otherwise. You have it here?”

“It is in a safe place. We can get it if it is needed.”

Papa Zenon looked at me. “Do you know where it is, Grafton?”

I nodded, hoping my nod did not tell too much.

“You will not tell me? Tell me, and I will do all I can for you. I have many friends; some are people of great importance here in our little country.”

I kept my mouth shut.

“Already I am friendly to you. I try to help you. You will concede this?”

“Sure.”

“You have not forgotten the burial you wished me to perform. It was dangerous, and most dangerous for me. Yet I did it and received only empty thanks. I have dunned you for money?”

I shook my head.

“Tell me where is the hand, and I forgive the debt.”

I was thinking then and thinking hard. Also I was holding the hand all the time. It would have crawled out onto the table if I had let it go. Finally I said, “Papa, I think you’re a little bit of a crook, but you’re our crook and an honest crook, meaning not a double-crosser. I want a bunch of things, and they’re not the same things you or Naala want. I want Martya. I want to find Russ and get him back to the States in one piece. Let’s make that Russ and Rosalee, and I want to get back there myself. Are you following this?”

“I am, my son.”

“Will you promise, on your honor, to do all you can to help me if I tell you where the hand is?”

Naala was staring, but I paid no attention to her.

“Your answer will not be a trick?”

“Absolutely not. Honest as daylight, without one bit of bullshit.”

“Then I agree. You have my word.”

“Okay,” I said. I was moving it as I spoke. “It’s right here on this table.” I was tempted to slap it down, but I did not. I laid it gently on the tablecloth, right in front of his eggs.

When the waiter came around with more coffee, Papa Zenon covered the hand with a napkin. That sticks in my memory, and I always want to laugh. Sometimes I do. It is the kind of nervous laugh that comes when I have a really close call but do not get hurt.

When the waiter had gone, Papa uncovered it and bent over the hand looking at the tattoos. “This is no curse.” He pointed to the writing in the palm. “It is a spell to find treasure, first in Greek and after in Latin but the same. Here on the thumb, a prayer to Haaiah. It is very short.”

Naala said, “He is a demon?”

Papa Zenon shook his head, hard. “Three times no. Haaiah is an angel, an angel most honored. The supplicant asks that the strangers become new friends. Nothing is in this prayer I myself would not say on my knees.”

Naala looked like I felt.

“Here.” He squinted at the fine writing on the index finger. “It begs Lamach for peace.” He read the prayer to us in Greek, but I do not remember the words well enough to quote them.

“Another angel?” Naala asked.