Абрахам Меррит - Creep, Shadow!

I answered: "Beside my bed. When I awoke not long ago."

The veins upon his temples swelled and began to throb; he whispered: "Now why did she do that…"

I said: "Because she is wiser than you. Because she knows I should be told the truth. Because she trusts me."

He said: "As once before she trusted you – and to her cost and to her father's."

"When I was Lord of Carnac," I laughed. "The Lord of Carnac died last night. She told me so."

He looked at me, long: "How did the Lord of Carnac die?"

I answered, brutally: "In your daughter's arms. And now she prefers – me."

He pushed back his chair, walked to the window and stared out at the driving rain. He came back to the table and sat quietly down: "Caranac, what did you dream?"

I said: "A waste of time to answer that. If it was a dream, you dictated it, and therefore know. If it was no dream, you were there."

He said: "Nevertheless, I ask you to tell me."

I studied him. There was something strange about this request, made apparently in all sincerity. It threw a totally unexpected monkey-wrench of doubt into the simple machinery of my deductions. I sparred for time.

"After I've eaten," I answered.

Not once while I breakfasted did he speak to me; nor, when I looked at him, were his eyes on me. He seemed deep in not particularly pleasant thoughts. I tried to fish the monkey-wrench out of my calculations. His surprise and anger when I produced the bowl had seemed genuine. If so, then obviously he had not put it beside me. Therefore it was not he who had wished to awaken my memory – either of dream or reality.

Then it must have been Dahut. But why should she want me to remember if her father did not? The only answer seemed to be that they were in conflict. Yet it might mean something else, far wider reaching. I had respect for de Keradel's mentality. I did not believe he would ask me to tell him something he already knew. At least not without a reason. Did his question mean that he had taken no part in the summoning of the Gatherer? That there had been no sacrifices… that all had been illusion… and that he had taken no part in the creation of the illusion?

That all had been the work of Dahut alone?

But wait! Might it not also mean that the green drink, after it changed me into what I had become, had also been supposed to make me forget? And that for some reason I had been partly immune to its effect? That now de Keradel wanted to know to what extent it had failed… to compare my memories with what he knew had occurred?

Yet there was the bowl… and twice I had seen fear in his eyes when Dahut had spoken to him… and what was the rift between the pair… and how could I take advantage of it?

Could anyone except Dahut have left beside me the sacrificial bowl… any thing…

I heard the voice of Ralston changing to the buzzing of a fly… I heard Dick's voice crying out to me… Beware, beware of Dahut… give me release… from the Gatherer… Alan.

And the room darkened as though the dripping clouds had grown heavier… or had filled with shadows…

I said: "Dismiss the servants, de Keradel. I'll tell you."

And when he had done so, I did tell him. He listened without interrupting, expression unchanged, pale eyes now glancing out of the windows, now fixed on mine. When I was through, he asked, smiling:

"Do you think it dream – or real?"

"There is this – " I threw the stained bowl on the table.

He took it, and examined it, thoughtfully. He said:

"Let us first assume your experiences were real. Under that assumption, I am sorcerer, warlock, priest of evil. And I do not like you. Not only do I not like you, but I do not trust you. I am not deceived by your apparent conversion to our aims and purposes. I know that you came here only because of your fear of what might befall your friends if you did not. In short, I am fully aware of my daughter's command to you, and what led up to it. I could get rid of you. Very easily. And would, were it not for one obstacle. My daughter's love for you. In awakening those memories which were her most ancient mother's in Ys… in resolving her into that ancient Dahut… obviously I could not pick and choose among her memories. They must, for my purposes, be complete. I must revive them all. Unfortunately, the Lord of Carnac was in them. Most unfortunately she met you, whose ancient father was that same Lord of Carnac. To destroy you would mean a complete and most probably abortive rearrangement of all my plans. It would infuriate her. She would become my enemy. Therefore you – continue to be. Is this plain?"

"Admirably so," I said.

"What then – still assuming I am what you think – am I to do? Obviously, make you particeps criminis . A partner in my crimes. You cannot denounce me without denouncing yourself. I give you a certain drink which deadens your inhibitions against this and that. You become particeps criminis . Helpless to denounce, unless you want the same halter around your neck as would encircle mine. Doubtless," he said, courteously, "all this has occurred to you."

"It has," I answered. "But I would like to put a few questions to you – in your character of sorcerer, warlock, priest of evil – assumed or otherwise, of course."

"In that character," he said gravely, "ask."

"Did you bring about the death of Ralston?"

"I did not," he said. "My daughter did. It is she who commands the shadows."

"Was the shadow which whispered him to his death – real?"

"Real enough to cause his death," he replied.

"You become ambiguous," I said. "I asked was it real?"

He smiled: "There is evidence that he thought so."

"And the other three?"

"Equally as real. It was the unexpected linking of those cases by Dr. Bennett that prompted our visit to Lowell… an exceedingly unfortunate visit, I repeat, since it resulted in my daughter meeting you. The admission, Caranac, is in my character of warlock, only."

"Why, in that character, did you kill them?"

"Because we were temporarily in need of funds. You will recall there was difficulty in getting gold out of Europe. We had killed many times before – in England, in France, and otherwhere. Dahut needs amusement – so do her shadows. And they must feed – now and then."

Could he be speaking truth – or was he playing with me? I said, coldly, hoping to bomb him out of his calm:

"You profit well by your daughter's whoredom."

He laughed outright at that: "What is whoredom to one who is warlock, sorcerer, and priest of evil?"

"Those who marched last night to the Cairn – still assuming these sacrifices reality – the paupers – "

He interrupted me: "Paupers! Why do you call them that?"

Now I laughed: "Aren't they?" He recovered his poise: "Always under the same conditions of response, the majority of them, yes. And now you would ask me how I – collected – them. That, my dear Caranac, was remarkably simple. It involved only the bribing of an orderly or two, the administering to the paupers of a certain drug, a little whispering to them by my daughter's shadows, their slipping away under the guidance of those shadows to where my boat lay waiting for them. And they were here – and very happy to be here I assure you… between sacrifices."

He asked, suavely: "Have I given tangible form to the vaguest of your suspicions, hardened into certainty those not so vague? Is not all this credible conduct for a sorcerer and his witch-daughter?"

I did not answer. He said:

"Speaking still in this capacity, my dear Caranac, assuming that you leave here, tell this story to others, bring down upon me man's law – what would happen? They would find no sacrifices, either dead in the Cairn or alive in the Cavern. There would be no Cavern. I have provided for all that. They would find only a peaceful scientist, one of whose hobbies is to reproduce Carnac in miniature. He would show them his standing stones. His entirely charming daughter would accompany and entertain them. You – if you were here – would be merely a lunatic dissonance. Whether you were here or not – what would happen to you thereafter? You would not die… but very heartily would you wish to die… if mind enough remained to formulate a wish."