Avram Davidson - Vergil in Averno

One thousand florins per annum per physician Adserovio, payable quarterly and due the third day instant, videlicet 250 florins plus monies laid out for medications by said physician as follows: for zedoary. . aloes. . liquid of myrrh…. And the voice became as low as the buzzing of bees and perhaps no longer represented so much individual words as a mere sound ancillary to the process of calculation and thought.

Rano was on his feet, facing Vergil, facing him close, “Master Mage,” said Rano, “if you will do something for me that you will don’t do for any other, then I will give you golds.” He made an odd, abrupt gesture. Vergil followed its direction. And indeed he did see “golds,” scores and scores he saw of them; they lay upon the worn and checkered cloth surface of the table where the eunuch sat and wrote, and now and then, with his humming rising to an odd and singular singsong mutter, the eunuch swept some into one column and some into another, swept to one side, one, and to another side, another; he paid them no more especial attention than had they been counters in a game. And why should he? Perhaps they were. What else were they to him? What, for that, was anything? Eunuchs were said to love arithmetic, and it was well they did and could: for what else could they love which asked no more of them than that it be put and kept in order?

“What one thing had you in mind to have done, Magnate — ”

This far had Vergil gotten, and time had had to savor some different scent and odor (fainter, though) than the smoke and stench and the sweet airs, to realize, if only half-realize, it was the papyrus and the parchment and the ink (not, certainly, the golds anymore than the silvers and the coppers; suddenly he understood that pecunia non olet, “money’s got no smell,” was not merely an expression of an economic attitude, it was a statement of physical fact). Thus far had he gotten with question and with thought, when the magnate broke in on both. Rano grimaced, but it was not with anger, not even so much as impatience, as of simple earnestness. “It is not some one thing I have in mind, in my mind, no! Master Mage! Wizard! You see, seen, will see …” Was the man reciting some paradigm or declension? No, he was trying, striving, he was struggling, to bring his own thoughts into order, and an order that would cover all possibilities. “… things I don’t. Can’t. See. I cannot know. You can. Know. And when you will be knowing, if you don’t tell some others, if you tell only me, if you will do this for me, for me: I will, I will give you golds. Not a coin and a robe. Not two coins, two robes. But many, master. Man -y. Many golds — ”

And the eunuch said, sans even looking up, in his strange and rich and, yes, even so: his sweet voice (now one had time and chance to think on it, strong and sweet): “There are many. Oh yes. There are many. Frog has many. Many many. Many manies of manies. Many golds, has Frog.” And his pen dipped and scratched.

“You see,” said Rano. Toad or frog, there was certainly something batrachian about him; were there a family Rano, what a chorus they might croak, creek, crack; but he had no children, only the one wife. Suddenly thinking of Rano’s wife, a rictus took hold of Vergil’s mouth; he swallowed, felt his throat dry, could not stop the movement. Visible, audible. Rano saw and heard.

“Eh? Sir?” The magnate moved, ugly face eager. “Agreed? On account? A purse of twenty? A purse of sixty? Make up a purse!” He turned to. . turned upon, almost. . the eunuch. Who did so with not so much as a struggle or a shrug, merely a gesture, neither whose beginning nor end did Vergil clearly follow; somewhere the man’s hand had moved, suddenly it was not moving: The palm sat open on the table with its checkered cloth on which gold coins moved from square to square, and in the palm sat one of those purses (contents already arranged) used in high commerce, long and narrow and sealed with sundry seals, one of them surely Imperial. “Weigh,” urged Rano. “Put it in your hand. Or — trust me not, break seals and count and then weigh — ” If this was not passion, it was something so very close to it that it would serve its place.

Vergil stepped back one step and one step away, held up his own hand, palm facing out and up, and one hand he thrust behind his back: without thought his fingers writhed, making, first, the fig; and then: the horns. Could Rano see either? Rano saw something, for Rano stopped.

“Magnate, Magnate.” Vergil ceased. Why was he so affected? He could hear his pulses beating in his ears, he had been offered bribes before, though not here — was this a bribe? “The Very Rich City of Averno has engaged me to give an answer to a certain problem. The answer to this problem would be the best thing I could do for all of you, and so, for any of you. Details await further discovery, and application requires much work. But every thing which I see, have seen, if not indeed all that I may yet see, either I have presented to all of you of the Magnatery, or, having in the future come to see it, must present to the Magnatery. To all of you. You offer me much gold, and I hope to receive much gold. I have already deserved that. But whatever I may find and see about how best to cap and to pipe and to conduct the fires and heats and fireable gasses, the hot spring waters, from wherever they may be or may come to be, to every magnate’s works. . why. . ser. . Magnate Rano. . there is no way that this, or any of this, could be told to you alone. And not to others.”

If there had been some thought, had there been some thought, very likely there had been some thought in Rano’s mind at first that Vergil was willing to bargain: that Vergil would not accept the first set of iron bangles, knives and hatchets, ruddy cloth, set down upon the sand. But as Vergil went on speaking, he saw that Rano realized this was not the case. Rano had not understood Vergil. Vergil had not understood Rano. “Ah, that. That . No.” His warty, webby hand swept it away behind him. “Some other thing. Some thing, other. Some new. Different, a different thing. A thing, else. You, Wizard, but not one thing only, to see. You will, you will.” He struggled with his wide mouth, his eyes bulged more, he paddled his hands; he looked for help; he looked at the eunuch.

“ — discover — ” the eunuch said.

Not even looking up, nor stopping the scritch-scrotch of his pen (what was the pen writing? — what odd signs?), the moving of the golden coins across the checkered table.

The word was accepted without further examination; Rano swept on, “And this when you discover, you will not tell an, you will tell not others. Only me you will tell, you will tell me. . me. . me …”

Thoughts moved dimly at that moment in Vergil’s mind, but they moved swiftly. It was far from impossible that he might indeed make some discovery aside and apart from the one central thrust of his intent so far. Something not covered by his engagement to the Very Rich City. Something else. In which case — What came to his mind, in which case, was something that almost swept him off his feet; literally, off his feet — almost. For a thought moved him, and as he moved he set a foot forward and the foot somehow stumbled and he stumbled. Rano at once moved forward and reached and took hold of him; they came together in an instant, hand in hand and body against body. Rano’s face moved, too, something glittered in his eyes, his mouth changed, something was moving the outlines of the mouth and reshaping the outlines of the eyes; Rano was about to move mouth closer to ear, and to offer. What, to offer?