George Chesbro: The Beasts Of Valhalla

Janet nodded. "The fact that you were a relative made you his private property, so to speak. He scored simply because you were a dwarf, and thus matched a Rings character, but he kept scoring if you became involved in a case or did something that he could correlate to action in the books." She walked slowly across the room, put her hand on my shoulder and raised her eyebrows. "You have been involved in some bizarre cases, Robby."

"Umm."

"Like that business with the witches' coven."

"Yeah. They were playing the game then?"

"No. The game was a recent invention, but Tommy got a ruling to the effect that, since you were 'his' dwarf, anything you'd ever done counted. You were 'Frodo the Ring Bearer.' For example, he correlated the witches' coven to Tolkien's Orcs. You entered their lair and survived. Points."

"No wonder he was always pressing me for information. I don't understand why he never mentioned it."

"He might have been afraid you'd be angry. Or maybe he just didn't want you to feel self-conscious."

"Was Rodney Lugmor a player?"

"Yes," Janet said, frowning. "Rodney was very bright, as you probably know, and he was also in the university's extension program."

"Janet, I'd like a copy of the rules for this game. Also, a list of all the players."

My sister shook her head, then placed her hand on top of the computer terminal. "I've never seen a rule book or player list, Robby. If they exist, they're probably in here. In code."

"Secrecy is one leg of the so-called Witch's Triangle of Power," I said tightly. "Secrecy may have been part of the game, or a way to score points."

"Robby, I do know of one other player-Bill Jackson. His family has a small farm over on Arrowrun Road. Tommy, Rodney, and Bill used to meet here once in a while to discuss strategy and fine points of the game. I'll call his mother for you, if you want. He's only fifteen, so I suppose the ground should be prepared before you talk to him."

"Do that," I said, rising from the swivel chair and looking at my watch. "Janet, I'd like to fly in someone from New York to help me. I know it will be sticky with John, but I'd like this guy to be able to stay here in Tommy's room. Believe me, you'll never see him-and he'll starve to death if you don't bring him food from time to time. Can you manage it?"

"I'll manage it."

"May I use your car?"

"Of course," Janet said, slightly puzzled. "The keys are in the ignition. You can keep it as long as you like; we have the pickup. Where are you going?"

"Coop Lugmor's place. How do I get there?"

She wrote down the directions. I put the paper in my pocket, headed for the stairs.

"Call Mom for me, will you?" I asked. "Tell her I've got my key, and not to wait up for me."

"People around here go to bed pretty early!" Janet called after me. "Coop may be asleep!"

"I hope so," I said over my shoulder. "It'll be a pleasure to wake him up."

Coop Lugmor wasn't asleep, only drunk. He smelled of bad booze and filth; his unshaven face and wasted, haunted eyes were like a microcosm of the crumbling, weather-bombed farmhouse where he lived. Chest-high sawgrass and weeds were a moat around the house, and I literally had to beat a path up to the front door where Lugmor, alerted by the sound of the car's engine, was waiting for me.

"Robby?" he mumbled. "That you?"

"The ghost of Christmas past, Coop." Garth had sounded as if he were feeling sorry for Lugmor; but then, Garth had never been a dwarf. Lugmor had helped to make my childhood miserable, and I was feeling mean. "You still interested in hiring me?"

He licked his lips. Some of the drunkenness seemed to go out of him, chased by grief-or hope. "Sure am, Robby. Uh, I don't have much- "

"This is what it will cost you to have me find out things for you. You're an old boyhood acquaintance, so you get a very special rate; it's a thousand dollars a day, plus expenses."

At first I wasn't sure he'd heard me. He continued to stare down at me in the bright moonlight, his mouth half open. "A thou-?"

"A thousand dollars a day, Coop, plus expenses. And I don't guarantee I'll find out a thing you don't already know. What I'll do is poke around and ask a few questions. You hire me, you'll be wired to any answers I get."

"Robby," Lugmor rasped, "things haven't been too good for me the last few years. I haven't got anywhere near that kind of money."

"Tough shit, Coop." I turned and headed down off the porch into the jungle that was his front yard. "Ask your own fucking questions."

Now I knew I was being really ornery, and I knew that neither my mother, father, nor my brother would have been very proud of me at the moment. Yet, I couldn't stop myself; it was as if there were a cruel stranger growing inside me, taking over. Coop Lugmor had thumped me good, and now I was thumping back in the worst way possible-I was kicking his mind.

There was a cry like the bark of a sick dog, then a thump of flesh and crash of pottery. I spun around and crouched, thinking that Lugmor might be trying to attack me. The man was sprawled on the ground; rushing after me, he'd fallen off the porch and broken his jug. He sat up and sobbed; his right hand was bleeding, and tears ran down his face collecting dirt. Feeling slightly nauseated, I walked back to him. I'd have stooped to help almost any other creature in his position, but I couldn't bring myself to touch the horrible memory that was Coop Lugmor.

"There are awful bad things going on in this county, Robby!" Lugmor said. "That's God's truth! Nobody cares! My brother and your nephew get killed and all they do is tell lies! Somebody's got to show them we're not all robots! Somebody's got to do something!"

"I said I'd ask questions. You want to hear the answers, you pay my price."

Lugmor flapped his bleeding hand at me. I grimaced, took a step back. "I haven't got it!" he wailed.

"You've got land, which means you get money from the Volsung Corporation."

"They cut me off last year. I've got nothing, Robby! I've been living off the vegetables I grow."

"You've got the farm," the cruel stranger in me said coldly and evenly.

"You want me to sell my farm?"

"Frankly, I don't give a shit what you do. You came to me. I might suggest you get a mortgage. You've got a house, a barn, and a few hundred acres. It ought to be worth something."

"Holy Jesus," Lugmor moaned. "How would I pay off the loan? They'd take the farm, Robby, and I don't want to live like some animal in the woods."

"Think about it. If you change your mind, you can call me at my folks' place."

"Wait!" He struggled to his feet, swayed. "I'll do it, Robby! I'll get a mortgage, pay you what you want!"

"Splendid."

"It'll take time!"

"I'll take a note to the effect of our agreement. Now, Coop."

Lugmor led the way into his house, a hovel that would make any woods I'd ever seen look like the Ritz in comparison. Apparently the man really was existing on nothing but vegetables, because there were scraps of rotting greens scattered about what I assumed to be the living room. A single kerosene lamp was burning something that wasn't kerosene, and Lugmor lit two others. Dirt was everywhere.

Standing in the center of the room as far away from any piece of furniture as I could get, I waited while Lugmor rummaged around for pencil and paper. He wrote something down, handed me the slip. I put it in my pocket without looking at it; it would be illegible. It was also worthless, but Coop Lugmor wouldn't know that. I wanted him crawling around in the woods; I wanted him hurt and broken the way he had hurt and tried to break me.

Now I wasn't too proud of myself. I was growing myself a monster, I thought, and the stranger was beginning to make my insides decidedly uncomfortable. He was crowding out my soul, making it hard to breathe. My heart hurt.