Gene Wolfe: Free Live Free

“I am so sorry,” the witch said. “You were sleeping. I should have been more thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Wide awake, that’s me. Honest.” He stumbled backward. “Won’t you come in?”

She nodded and stepped inside. Without her high-heeled boots, her head came only to his shoulder. The scarlet robe was oriental, embroidered with writhing black dragons; she clutched it at her chin, and with her long, dark hair she might almost have been Chinese.

“You are so very kind, Mr. Barnes. You have every reason to be annoyed with me.”

“Never!” The chair was still facing the picture of the gowned blonde. He seized it in an agony of haste and held it for her, seating himself on the bed only after she had consented to sit down.

“You have taped up pictures, I see. I would guess that you are the only one among us who has labored to decorate his chamber.”

“These are what I sell,” Barnes explained. He cleared his throat. “Having them here reminds me of them, and I think about what I can say about them.”

“System,” the witch said admiringly. “You are correct, Mr. Barnes. System is everything.” Her eyes, which until now had been more impressive than inviting, were melting.

“I try,” Barnes told her.

“Often with great success, I am sure.” The witch released the collar of her robe and folded her hands demurely in her lap, permitting Barnes to see her decolletage and a triangle of the black corset. For the first time, she seemed to notice the hook on which the picture of the blonde hung. “You are religious too. How refreshing to find that in a man! Mr. Barnes, I have come to you for help.”

He swallowed. “If you mean, financial, I’m afraid—”

“It was I who gave you the money for our food tonight. Have you forgotten?”

“No, Ma’am, not at all, and I promise you when I get my commissions—”

“There is no need. I meant only to show you that I do not require money from you. Doubtless other women you have known have in this way or that always demanded it.”

“No, no,” Barnes told her. “Not at all.”

“Really? You are an exception then. At any rate, I am asking for your help, Mr. Barnes. I wish to enlist you under my banner, as it were.”

“Anything I can do, Ma’am, why I’d be delighted—”

“Perhaps you should hear first. Do you credit the supernatural?”

“Why, ah …” For a moment Barnes looked embarrassed. “I can’t really say I believe or I don’t. I suppose you could say I’ve always thought there was more to everything than anybody could really know, but frankly I haven’t thought about it much. I’ve never felt it concerned me. Maybe when we die we’ll find out.”

“There is little reason to think so, Mr. Barnes. People are inclined to believe that in this world the higher world is obscure, and in the next it will be made plain. But is it not equally probable that while we are here the higher world is revealed, and if we perish in ignorance of it, we shall remain in that ignorance in the next?”

“I don’t know,” Barnes admitted.

“As a man, you would no doubt be more impressed by science than by the symbolism of the mystics. To you I would say that to speak of a higher world is to speak of a higher state of energy. That is nearly always, you will note, what we mean when we speak of height—the stone upon the mountaintop, for example, possesses greater potential energy than the stone at the bottom of the tarn. If one end of a poker is red, we say that end is of a higher temperature, or that its thermal energy is higher. When we die, by the Law of Entropy, which all scientists acknowledge, we pass from a higher state to a lower. Since we will then be further from the higher world, how are we to see it more clearly?”

Barnes said, “I’m afraid I don’t know much more about science than I do about the supernatural. In fact, they often seem about the same to me.”

The witch nodded and smiled, perfect teeth flashing in her dark face. “They are indeed closer than most scientists—or most mystics—are willing to admit, Mr. Barnes. If I have provided your first lesson in science, let me give you your first in mysticism also. It is that we live surrounded by signs—signs we are often too blind to read. I am such a sign and you are such a sign and that bed on which you sit is a sign. If we knew what all the signs mean, we should be creatures of a higher order. If we knew only what many of them mean, we should have power and great riches. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Barnes said.

“The air and light of the living are signs then, and the dirt and dust of death. If we who can see the stars cannot see what is higher, how shall those who dwell beneath the roots of the trees in a land of worm and stone and water see it? I say to you, Mr. Barnes, that knowledge comes to those who seek to learn, sight to those whose eyes are opened, understanding to those who ponder the mysteries.”

“That’s wonderfully put,” Barnes said. “I can see why you believe it, ah …”

“My name is Madame Serpentina. You may call me that.”

“I know. Only I thought maybe … well, for instance, it might be more friendly if you were to call me Ozzie.”

“Very well, I will call you Ozzie, and you will call me Madame Serpentina.”

“Of course, Madame Serpentina, if that’s the way you want it. I was going to say that now that I’ve heard you put it so well—that is, if I could sell my merchandise the way you do your ideas, why I’d be rich. I believe it, too. Only I don’t know what it is you want from me.”

The witch smiled again. “You are a wonderful man, my Ozzie. You are practical, you are persuasive, you have to an unusual degree the masculine force of character. What would any woman want of you?”

Barnes’s eyes strayed to the stack of letters on the table. “Well, as you said yourself, Madame Serpentina, what most of them are after is money.”

“Your protection, your courage, your strength, and your cunning at her side. But, Ozzie,” she leaned forward and caught his hands in her own, which seemed to him as cold as ice. “You must first understand that I am what I say I am. I have been called a witch, and indeed I have called myself that—it is the closest word English has for what I am. Do you know what it means? Wit meant knowledge once. To wicken was to enchant, only a thousand years ago. To wikken was to prophesy. Wih meant holy.”

She said all these words rapidly, so that wikken sounded much like wicken, wit like wih. Barnes could only gasp, “You certainly are enchanting.”

“I am indeed, my Ozzie; you speak more truly than you know. I have often noticed that when others speak to me—doubtless it is my aura. But what you must understand is that I am one who has lifted the veil. I am enlightened. We spoke, you and I, of seeing a higher world. I have on occasion glimpsed it, or its reflection. I have made the study of it my life.”

Barnes nodded solemnly.

“You are here now, and I am here, Ozzie, in a house on the brink of destruction. Why are we here?”

“Well,” Barnes said slowly, “I can’t really speak for you, Madame Serpentina. But me, I always read the classifieds, especially the personals. And a couple of days ago, I saw this ad in the Sunday paper that said free rooms. I cut it out, and I believe I’ve got it here someplace.”

“You need not search for it.”

“Anyway, it said there would be free rooms at this address until the building came down. To tell the truth, I’d been having some trouble where I was staying then. I owed rent, and once they padlocked my door, only I was able to show the woman that unless I could get my sample cases and present a respectable appearance, I couldn’t ever make the rent, and she let me back in. So when I saw this, I went after it. Old Mr. Free was turning away undesirables, and my impression was that we would all be respectable people here, which I should say we all are, except one.”