Having virtually resigned myself by now to losing the battle for my dear friend’s life, I dully allowed a bit of my attention to drift toward the conlam. “Yet you, ‘Doctor,’ made your contemptible living from those you mock, explaining the positions of the Martyred Trine.”
He gave me a bristly chuckle. “Indeed I did, and every day gave hearty thanks to whatever superstitious clod named them thus—as well as saving a certain amount of gratitude for the happy coincidence that this world of ours possesses three moons! I’ll never understand it: have not the public been informed that their precious Martyred Trine in the sky are but three balls of rock whose relative positions are significant of nothing save the way they fall about each other and this planet? I am no philosopher, to be sure, yet this much I, myself, have managed to understand!”
“I am no philosopher myself,” I replied, and glancing once again at Mav’s motionless body, added, “nor much of a paracauterist. Yet, at this moment, did I but believe, even in the remotest tip of a finger, that some magic might restore my friend to me, I might very well stand in your queue, Ensda, and give over my money. You are a criminal—you prey upon the lonely and the sick, the hopeless and those struck with tragedy. I hope you get what you deserve!”
Again that cynical ripple: “Ah, a sentimentalist! And I suppose that you attend the established Church with regularity and listen to their brand of counterfeit advice and consolation? The Royally Approved brand?”
“Why, no, as a matter of fact.” Nor had I done so since earliest childhood.
“Well, at least in that, you are consistent. We are all in the same business, you know—performing a ‘service’ for which there is no need. My dear, ‘criminals’ like myself and like the Reverend Trinist Churchlamn would be out of business in a fraction of a moment if your lonely, sick, hopeless, tragic masses simply took charge of their own lives. No one can make anyone less lonely or ill, generate hope or negate tragedy. Or make anyone else happy, for that matter. Only we can do that for ourselves, by identifying what it is we want and then acting to obtain it. Most people spend their lives avoiding the knowledge of what it is they really desire, and it is these self-evaders who become my customers. They deserve me, my dear, they richly deserve me, and I do my best to serve them as they merit!”
I bridled at his cynicism. “By selling them nonsense instead of the advice they really need—the advice which you have just given me?”
“Precisely—by selling them the nonsense which they will accept nine thousand times as willingly as the truth. There is very little money in the truth, my dear, very little money at all. Usually some ugly form of popular execution, instead.”
“I only meant to frighten him!” Law now insisted for perhaps the thirtieth time in the past hour. “It was this accursed investigation of his! Oh, how did I ever get mixed up in all this? Why ever did I agree to—”
“Silence, idiot!” growled Ensda, freed now of some of his restraints. He rose and began to pace the little room—until he was jerked up short and thus reminded that I had left one of the rings upon a walking leg and fastened another to that of Srafen’s large, heavy desk. He stopped and, addressing Law, pointed a finger at Mav: “You will place us both between the Blocks, whether this foul snooper—”
“Gentlelamn,” intoned a brisk, familiar voice, “kindly do not speak of me in the third person, for it is neither very polite nor yet appropriate.” My hearts leaped as Mav stirred upon the cushions. “Mymy, my dear, I thank you for your kind ministrations; they were most helpful. If you will observe, the bleeding has now stopped—another benefit of resre disciplines. I believe that, with a spot of kood—”
“Mav! If you do not remain still, you will start bleeding again! Kood is a stimulant, which you do not require—it might very well prove fatal!”
“Unlock these fetters,” offered Ensda with a hideous leer, “and I’ll happily get him his kood.”
“Your generosity overwhelms me, my good Doctor. I see that I was successful, by Pah, not only in apprehending you, but in preserving your person for the tender mercies of Their Majesties’ Justice! Quite gratifying, really, Tis will be well pleased!”
I spoke once again. “Mav, you really must lie still. You have given me quite a turn, you know, and Vyssu, as well—two turns, really, for I thought you surely to be dying, nor do I fully understand this recovery of yours.”
Vyssu, very silent for once, nodded agreement.
“Nor do I, altogether, Mymy. I believe that I reflexively began the disciplines whilst hanging from the bridge. I remember nothing after that, except some vague sense that the two of you were highly agitated—oh yes, and your valiant attempts to save my being. Tell me, then, what is the damage?”
I hesitated, not quite knowing what to say. Then: “Well, since you have not succumbed to exsanguination, I should say that, if you will comport yourself with prudence over the next several weeks, you may enjoy greater mobility in that shattered joint than you have previously. It was most amateurishly set, and—”
“Upon the field of battle, if you will recall, my dear. Capital! Now where have you secreted my inhaling tube? And, Law, you will explain your earlier remarks immediately, or face the Blocks for a certainty. What do you mean you did not intend to kill me? When?”
Law cast his gaze about the room and seemed to shrink upon himself. Not a soul present would stand up for him. Besides myself, Mav, Vyssu, and vile Ensda, the remaining individual present had been totally silent, almost hysterically withdrawn; Myssmo’s world was disintegrating before her unbelieving eyes and it was fully consistent with her character that she should now deny that world and sink into a dull torpor, a sort of waking hann.
Gone too was Law’s old-school playboy bravado. He took breath to speak, but Ensda growled again, and, for the first time, there was the slightest whimper from Myssmo. Mav interrupted: “Ensda, threaten him again, and I shall personally see that you are placed within the coldest, darkest, dampest cell in all of Mathas while awaiting execution for the murder of Professor Srafen! Now speak, Law! Perhaps you can save yourself a similar fate!”
There was a long pause, then, in confirmation of what my friend had suspected all along, Law removed the walking glove from his right rearmost hand.
As well as, to all appearances, the hand along with it.
“Why, you are the one who attacked us in the Kiiden!” I said, quite unnecessarily, and, from Mav’s expression, out of turn. Yes, there they were, the first childlike, tender shoots of regenerating fingers. I knew now that their predecessors lay preserved in my surfather’s office ice chest.
“And you,” Law answered in a lifeless voice, “are the one who struck my hand off in retribution!” He looked upon his severed limb almost in disbelief.
With a chuckle in his fur, Mav observed, “Quite so, old lam, and what, if I may inquire—which officially I’m obliged to—has become of your accomplice in incompetent thuggery?”
Law winced. “Oh, him? A hireling, merely, picked up by chance at a tavern very near there. He should be gone by now, aboard the very ship on which he came. I believe that they were to steam tonight—the Habo, it was, I think. Podfettian: I chose him because he didn’t speak a word of Fodduan. Not that he let on, I—”
“Get hold of yourself!” Mav shouted suddenly. “You’re wandering!”
Law blinked. “Oh, sorry. Where was I? You must believe me, sir, it was never my intention that anyone—most particularly myself—should be injured in what transpired. It is just that, well, your inquiries were taking you rather closer to my…that is, they seemed to endanger me, so I took measures to frighten you off.”
“Hmm—I begin to see,” replied the detective quietly. He’d found the pocket of the cloak I’d draped him with and was now, despite the strongest warning looks from me, dripping volatile solvents into his silver pipe. Now he stopped and looked at Law quite sharply. “And what has all of this to do with Doctor Ensda, here?” My friend quite suddenly sounded fatigued—I supp
ose there is a limit to what anyone, however trained and fit, can endure. His fur drooped and suddenly seemed to lose its luster.
With a clank, Ensda struck the limit of his leash again, glared at me, and sat down where he was upon the nearest cushion to Myssmo, who uncharacteristically—but now understandably—shrank backward from him, emitting another little whimper. “I’ll tell you what it has to do with me! I’ll not be bound over for a killing I had no connection with! I’ve done time before, and whatever they give me now, I can do it standing on my jaws—but I’ll not go between the Blocks for the likes of these!” He waved a hand, indicating Law and Myssmo.
“It was a simple enough scheme, but this pair was even simpler, and, accordingly, required my assistance, not only to carry it off, but to think of it in the first place! This—” he pointed now toward Myssmo—“actually believes in the watu-marbles I dispense as personal advice. Lunology? Rot it all, I cannot so much as calculate the position of tomorrow’s sunrise! Yet use the proper ‘magic’ words, and morons like her always believe—and pay!”
At this, Myssmo began to wail.
“Oh be still, you silly female, you’re interrupting! The problem was that there’s a limit to how much she could pay. Her surhusband, the real algae-winner (here he took a long, contemptuous look at Law) of this happy family, had placed her on a strict allowance. Little wonder, when you see what she’s done to this place since the old surry kicked off! Srafen, I discovered, intended donating as much of rher considerable fortune as possible to the pursuit of rher philosophical flights of fancy. What a waste! Imagine giving everything away just to help a lot of thin-pelts generate even longer words and less-comprehensible theories!”
Well, I reflected, here was something which I had heard before, a point of some agreement between this mountebank, Niitood the reporter, and the Keeper of Fundamental Truth. It seemed a wonder to me that there continued to be any progress at all, it had so many willing enemies.
“In any event,” continued Ensda, “I approached ‘Lawsie’ here, for he seemed to have some personal uses to which money could be put—”
Here, Vyssu surprised me by laughing briefly.
“—it would have done no good at all to discuss anything linear and rational with their wife, here. After some negotiation, we struck a bargain and made a plan. With the help of one of Srafen’s solicitors, concerning whom I was privy to a number of embarrassing facts, we began to manipulate the accounts a trifle. Srafen would never know, as what strain we placed upon rher resources would never become apparent until after rhe had passed away—when there would be no free lunch forthcoming for natural philosophers!”
Abruptly, Law sank to the floor and placed a hand over each eye. Myssmo, who was hearing this for the first time, just as we were, appeared strangely unmoved. I kept an eye on Mav, as well, whose thoughtful expression waxed gloomier with each successive word from the lunologist.
Ensda whirled upon them both in turn. “We saw to it that our gullible friend here had some remuneration which might stem any minimal curiosity it might occur to her to exercise. You may see, around this place, the uses to which she has applied it—disgusting!
“And you—get up from there, you soft-shelled weakling! Face what’s coming to you like a lamviin! You suffered your share of the spoils quite cheerfully enough when they were the only apparent consequences!
“So there you have it all, my dear Inquirer, a complete confession—to embezzlement! It’s readily verifiable; among other bonafides, I shall supply the name of Srafen’s perfidious lawyer. But I see you are confused—why am I doing this? Because, you see, our periodic raids upon rher wealth were only possible as long as rhe was alive; upon rher death, the trust—that delightfully manipulable trust—would be dissolved, all remaining wealth devolve upon the Museum and University, and we would cease deriving any benefit. You have me now for a thief, but never for a murderer—I stood to gain far too much from Srafen’s continued health!”
Mav propped himself up a little, leaning more than I liked upon his wounded limb. “I understand entirely, sir,” he said very quietly. “And you, Law, fearing my investigation into Srafen’s death would disclose this flummery, decided to take violent means against me and my friend.” He took the inhaler from his nostril with a discouraged move of his hand and laid it upon a side table.
There was not a sound from Srafen’s husband, only an abject cast of resignation in his fur. The set of Ensda’s pelt was one of positive contempt. “And thus the fool directed your attention straight toward us!”
Mav fell strangely silent, an expression I could not interpret covering his carapace. He looked toward the window; it was black as pitch by now outside, and, judging by that expression, possibly within his soul, as well. He was not far from the wall and so reached over and pulled back the drape. “I see the rain has stopped, Mymy. Do be good enough to telephone the Precinct. They’ll be wanting Dr. Ensda here, and Law. I believe, for what little good it shall do her, that we may leave mention of Myssmo out of things.” His languor affrighted me sorely.
Vyssu rose in my place and left the room, for I could not leave the detective’s side, so poignantly did he fail to conceal his bitter disappointment. I feared far more for his life at this moment than I had at any time earlier in the evening, for people must have some reason to go on living, and there was not the slightest trace of that remaining in my friend.
“Mav,” I offered, “we have brought two criminals to book, and there is still a murderer to—”
“I know, my dearest friend,” he murmured gently, “I have not forgotten. I think now that the only remaining course is to see whether or not, when I have recovered from this wound, I can get myself murdered, as well.”
XIV: A Desperate Enterprise
Mav’s despondency proved dreadfully contagious. He had spent much precious time and effort and hopes dearly held, nearly expended his own life as well, pursuing matters we now had learned were wholly unconnected (at least in any save the most indirect of senses) with Professor Srafen’s murder.
That my detective friend should manifest discouragement did not surprise me. My own attitude, I realized, was one of unrelieved weariness, and I even began doubting, so intertangled and complex did the most ordinary and innocent affairs of lamn appear, whether Mav’s shining dream of scientifically untwining the criminal ones was practicable at all. Perhaps such tasks had best be left to Churchlamn and to these new alienists who were beginning to enjoy a certain notoriety.
Ensda turned out, uncharacteristically, as good as his word, for his story was confirmed upon the next morning—I had this through one of the most singular telephonic communications I have ever received—with the apprehension of the criminal solicitor (a phrase Niitood later was to claim is the soul of redundancy) and his subsequent confession. It is positively astounding what the possibility of accusation for a capital offense—and of the Blocks—will do to elicit cooperation from the commonplace thief.
Somehow, in the next few days, Vyssu’s establishment in the Kiiden was to become our unofficial headquarters, due partly, I suppose, to Mav’s indisposition. He would tolerate no servants in his own lodgings; Fatpa and one or two others such as owed their livelihood to Vyssu anxiously oversaw the Inquirer’s return to health. This was something of an annoyance to me, since it was I who had begun his course of treatment and who, in every professionally ethical regard, ought to have seen to its continuance and completion.
Nonetheless, it was upon no medical matter that I was so curtly summoned the next morning to the detective’s side. He lay upon a broad satin-covered cushion, the slim wand of his silver inhaling tube tilted rakishly from one nostril, and a wick of some robust and lamly kood filling his female friend’s front parlor (which now served as his office and infirmary) with a heartening fragrance.
I set my bag upon the carpet. “Good morning, Mav. I see that you have done well by yourself, as usual. A word about that pipe of yours, however, which will slow your healing b
y at least—”
He crinkled and looked up at me. “Ah, Mymy, good morning to you, also. If I am not to be allowed my pipe, dear paracauterist, I shall perforce have to turn instead to juicing.” Here, he mimicked quite accurately that sudden rigor which current induces in the body. “What effect might that have on my health? I am given to understand that you may now deliver an informed opinion on the subject.”
“Why, of all the…oh, very well, then, make a finish of what Ensda has begun! But before you do, kindly inform me why that strange unpalatable creature Fatpa telephoned my rooms this morning, asking for assistance on your behalf. Have you some idea, after all, of continuing these efforts?” With this unthoughtful utterance, I felt instantly ashamed, for I could understand and sympathize with Mav’s vain labors, if anybody could, and with the final resignation of his words last evening.
Mav, however, remained quite cheerful. “Quite so, my dear, quite so, although you have been summoned here somewhat less to render assistance to me than for your own continued well-being. Tell me, Mymy, have you still that little equalizer we took from Law?”
“Why, yes, I believe that I have. It is to be hoped that Law will have little use for it in future. Why ever do you ask—would you like me to return it to him?”
“On the contrary.” He laughed. “Do you believe that you can make proficient use of it after just one brief lesson?” He extended a hand, which I took as a request on his part to examine the weapon in question. I rummaged about in my bag, found the gun, and gave it to him, though I hesitated to answer immediately. Much like my earlier exchange with Fatpa, this conversation was making less and less sense to me the longer it lasted.
“I am unsure how to judge proficiency at such things, Mav. I think that I can do as well or better than I did upon the morning of our picnic.”
Their Majesties’ Bucketeers ─ An Agot Edmoot Mav Murder Mystery Page 17
