by Gene Wolfe
Outside, with a cold wind blowing and the snow creaking beneath our feet, Audrey asked, “Why are you so anxious to learn whether your friends are here?”
I told her, “Because I remember Burke and Hare.” I was too cold to grin.
“So do I. There was a show about them a few years ago, a musical. I watched it. Do you think Dr. Fevre might do that? Kill people so he can sell their bodies?”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘people.’” I tried to make it bitter, but my breath was a plume of steam.
“I see.…”
“He couldn’t make any money that way—he’d checked them out, so he’d lose his deposits. Still, it might mean keeping his job on the faculty. From what I’ve read, even a tenured professor can be sent packing, although it’s not easy.”
Audrey and I had just about reached the cottage where he was staying when she said, “Do we listen at the keyhole?”
I was listening already and motioned for her to keep quiet. One of the male speakers was surely Dr. Fevre; the other was probably his landlord. A third voice sounded like a woman’s, and I caught the word “wonderful.”
We were nearly at the door by then. After two or three snowy strides more, I knocked.
There was a moment of silence inside, followed by a man’s slow steps.
The door opened, and Dr. Fevre’s host stared. I said, “May we come in? These coats are warm, but we’re freezing anyway.”
When he said nothing, I added, “I promise we won’t eat much, we’ve already had dinner.”
Rose Romain’s slow, breathless voice murmured something I couldn’t quite make out. Dr. Fevre called, “Let them come in. They received me hospitably.”
I waved Audrey in first and followed her. Before I could sit down, Dr. Fevre said, “Ern, you have no boots. I should’ve noticed that this afternoon.”
I was too busy looking around to answer. A sizable table had been set with five places and wine glasses—most half-full now—and Millie Baumgartner was carrying in a good-sized soup tureen with what looked like a cast-iron lid; she gave me a big smile when she saw us. Our hosts had only four chairs. One belonged to Dr. Fevre, one to the man of the house, and the other two to Rose and Millie. The lady of the house got only a stool, but she managed to find another stool for Audrey and a box for me.
“Soup,” Millie told me, taking the iron cover off the tureen. “We all eat right out of this, the way most people did throughout history.”
I spooned up some, knowing that it would be delicious. It was.
“French onion,” Millie explained. “Most people think there ought to be cheese on top, but that’s really Swiss. The French never took to the cheese.”
Audrey almost smacked her lips as she asked about the recipe.
“Chop the onions and sauté them in butter,” Millie told her. “Add both to beef stock. If you can fry an egg you can make beef stock.”
Audrey nodded.
“Add seasoning and stir. Add croutons just before you serve the soup.”
“That seasoning is your secret, I’m sure.”
Millie laughed. “Not a bit, it’s in my book. You will have salted the stock already, so don’t add any more salt.”
Rose, seated on Dr. Fevre’s right, leaned toward him and whispered something that made him smile. I think he pinched her thigh.
“Garlic, thyme, and bay, plus a glass or two of red wine. Just a little dusting of black pepper.”
Audrey objected, “It can’t be that easy.”
“I didn’t have everything I needed here, so I did a bit of experimenting.”
By the time the fish came in, I had caught on that Rose and Dr. Fevre were holding hands under the table. I’d been worried about Millie and Rose, but it seemed as though Dr. Fevre was treating them a heck of a lot better than library reclones usually get treated. Maybe I ought to say here that Rose was wearing a white silk jacket embroidered with leaves and hanging flowers I think were probably wisteria. She sure as hell had not been slipped into that jacket by the Polly’s Grove Public Library.
Audrey asked what the fish was that we were eating and our host told her, but it was one I’d never heard of and I’ve forgotten it now. It was covered with what Millie told us was just a simple cream sauce with shallots. Hearing that started me wondering just how much of this stuff she had gotten Dr. Fevre to buy her on the mainland, and how much our host and his little bent wife had supplied. Ninety percent and ten would probably cover it.
We talked about food for a few minutes, then I wanted to know when we’d get to see the ice caves.
“Tomorrow, I hope. Come around in the morning.” His smile made me nervous.
Audrey said, “Just us? Or your wife and daughter, too?” The way she said your wife tipped me that she knew exactly why Dr. Fevre had checked out Rose Romain.
“I believe we ought to leave that up to them,” he told her. It was as smooth as velvet. “They will be more than welcome should they choose to come.” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “I’m forgetting something. Mr. Smithe will need boots. What size, Mr. Smithe?”
I told him, and he said, “In that case, I’ll lend you a pair of mine. We’ll take care of that right now.” He stood up. “They’ll be a trifle large, I’m afraid; but I’ll give you two pairs of thick wool socks. The ladies here knit them, and you’ll be glad you’ve got them tomorrow.”
Millie warned us not to miss dessert.
Dr. Fevre had told me that most of the houses here just had ladders to their lofts, although the house where he and our patron were staying had steps, a little crude and pretty clearly homemade but good solid stone steps just the same. Anyway, Dr. Fevre motioned for me to go up the ladder first, and while I was climbing he said, “I would have thrown out those shoes of yours a year ago.”
I lifted my shoulders and let them drop. “You know how it is with library resources.”
“I do; and I know that they are members of the human race, whatever the law may say. I said I’d loan you a pair of boots. You may keep them, if they fit.”
“Then I’ll throw out these.”
“Good. The boots can pass for shoes if you wear your trouser legs over the tops.”
As soon as I saw the boots, I knew that I would never wear them out. They’re walrus hide, according to our host on Lichholm, brown but so dark that they generally look as black as an ocean of ink. There are no laces or buckles or anything like that. The tops come up halfway to my knees.
Millie was gone when we got back downstairs. I wanted to know what had happened to her, and Rose told me she was in the kitchen whipping cream.
I said I wanted to show her my new boots and went back there. She had some hand-cranked gadget I had never seen before and was whipping with a will. “Ern, you’re a gift from God.”
“I know,” I said, “but I didn’t know you knew.”
“Finish whipping for me. It’s getting thicker, but my arm’s about to fall off.”
So I took the gadget and turned the crank a couple of times to see how it worked. Our little bent hostess was nowhere in sight. “I’ve been itching to get you alone,” I told Millie. “I’ve got a question to ask, and I want you to think before you answer it. When you left the library, you went through the lobby with Rose and the doctor. I was sitting in there, and I saw you.”
“Yes, he’d gotten the library to borrow us from Spice Grove, then checked us both out when we got there. I don’t suppose you know who got the library to get you?”
“I can guess pretty easily—his wife. Did Dr. Fevre ever check you out of Spice Grove?”
Millie nodded. “Three times. Twice for Rose. You’re looking pleased.”
“I am pleased. I used to wonder why all three of us were sent here, and all from the Spice Grove Public Library. Now I know.”
“If you tell me that’ll make two of us.”
“All right. You and Rose are easy. He wanted the copies he’d checked out before. A different copy of Millie Baumgartner might have refused to
cook for him. He knew you wouldn’t.”
Millie’s nod was slower this time. “And a new Rose Romain might not sleep with him.”
“Exactly. Also a new Rose would have to be briefed all over again about what he wanted her to do and how he wanted her to do it. That’s probably pretty simple, but it might be complicated. I don’t know.” I paused. “Want to hear more?”
“Of course I do. What is it, and what’s your question? You still haven’t asked it.”
“I know. The more is that he thought Peggy Pepper was on our boat, which was bound to be difficult. Adah will be difficult, too; but not as difficult as Peggy—or so I think. My question is, could Dr. Fevre have slashed the old Ern A. Smithe’s throat with a scalpel as you and Rose walked past?”
Millie stared. “You must be having nightmares.”
“It could be done,” I insisted, “if he were very quick. Cut the old me’s throat and drop the scalpel. I think I saw the scalpel when they cleaned up.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
I cranked the mixer hard. “If you’d gotten ahead of him momentarily?”
Millie shook her head. “That didn’t happen. Rose walked beside him, arm in arm. I walked behind them both. I would’ve seen it.” She paused. “Do you know how the old you lost his arm?”
“I think I do. I think Adah Fevre cut it off.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. She’s up and down. Do you know about that?”
“He’s talked about it.”
“When she’s up she goes around with a butcher knife in her belt. I think she got angry with the old Ern, hacked his arm, and sent him back. No doubt the library got a doctor for him, but the arm couldn’t be saved.”
“Or she cut it off entirely and threw it away. Now whip that cream.”
I whipped. “Talking about all this brings me to why Adah wanted an Ern A. Smithe from Spice Grove, and not the Continental Library or someplace else.”
“Because you might have talked with Rose and me?” Millie was eyeing the cream.
“Nice try, but I’ve got a better one.” I whipped away. “Because I might have been checked out by faculty members and heard faculty gossip about her husband. Also there was a chance that I might have been checked out by her husband, and be willing to talk about it.”
“That’s whipped enough.” Millie straightened up.
“Does she know about Rose?”
“Possibly, but I doubt it.”
“Are you going to fill me in on that faculty gossip? Just what would they be gossiping about?” Millie had been cutting cake; she stopped now, the cake knife raised. “What or who?”
“Not now. Later, maybe.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Perhaps not, but it’s prudent.” Three generous slices of cake already lay on three small plates; I said, “What do you say I spoon some of this whipped cream onto those and carry them in?”
Millie nodded and went back to cutting. “Good idea. I’ll bring in the rest.”
I carried in three pieces, serving Dr. Fevre, our host, and Rose. By the time I had reclaimed my seat, Millie was bringing in four more for the old woman, Audrey, me, and herself.
Dr. Fevre yawned as soon as we had finished our cake, and Audrey and I excused ourselves. I found that new boots and two pairs of wool socks improved the cold, the snow, and even the dark, starry night enormously. Perhaps it was the wine that had improved Audrey; when we had passed the first few dark houses, she began to sing: “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright…” She knew all the ancient, authentic words, which was ten times more than I did; but I hummed along whenever she lost me.
When she had finished, I said, “You’re rushing it. It must be almost a quarter year away.”
“Everybody rushes it, remember? Lights and sweaters and everything before Halloween.”
“Trees and mistletoe…” I was remembering.
“Time to start addressing cards. The last time, I was on that damned island and couldn’t have sent any.”
I said, “Or gotten any, either. I’ll bet your mailbox was jammed when you got back.”
“I didn’t get back, Ern. I drowned. I told you about that.”
I think we were both quiet for a few houses after that, then Audrey said, “Tomorrow we’ll be looking at dozens of bodies. Some Christmas!”
“Halloween,” I told her.
“They don’t celebrate that anymore. Or Thanksgiving or Christmas. Only New Year’s. Everyone’s supposed to get drunk.”
“Give it a thousand years, and maybe they’ll discover Christmas again. Look at the Olympic Games. Those were gone for more than a thousand years.”
“Do you daydream, Ern?”
I nodded. “Of course I do. Everyone does.”
“Me too. Sometimes sailing keeps you so busy you wish you had two heads and six arms; but sometimes the wind is fair and the sails are exactly right, and you can just lash the wheel and skim over the water.”
I nodded again.
“I used to daydream for hours then. Someday I’d get married. Maybe I’d have children.” Audrey was quiet for a dozen steps. “My husband wouldn’t have to be handsome; but he’d be steady and practical, and smoke a pipe. Not a lot, just once or twice in the evening. You know what I daydream now?”
“No, but I’d like to.”
“That somebody buys me and gives me as a present.”
I never would have guessed that one, and I said so.
“They’d have a birthday party for somebody who loved books and sailing, and there I’d be in a gorgeous gown—or else in sailing clothes. Maybe I’d be carrying one of my books, too. That changes, depending.”
“I’ll bet the title changes, too.”
“You’re right. Mostly it’s A Woman Sails Alone. But it can be other things, too.”
I nodded, trying to picture it.
“Sometimes it’s a book I wanted to write, but never even got to start. Anyway, everybody would sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and then the one who had paid for me would take my hand and lead me over to my new owner. Sometimes that’s a woman, but sometimes it’s a man.”
I said, “I’m glad to hear that,” which was the simple truth.
“If it’s a man, he has a lovely groundcar, not huge but luxurious; only when it’s a woman, it’s usually a bicycle built for two. She sits in front and pedals and steers, and I sit behind her and pedal too. Together we skim along like the wind.” Audrey laughed, happy but a little embarrassed. “We weave through traffic. Sometimes she has a penthouse, but usually she lives on her boat.”
Maybe we said more than that before we got to the house where they were putting us up, but I have forgotten it if we did. For a minute or two I worried that the door would be locked. Later I found out that nobody on the island locked doors, and your neighbors would be mad at you if you did. They could just walk in anytime they wanted, and you could just walk into their houses. Probably hardly anybody did that late at night, and if you could tell they were busy in bed you snuck back out. I do not know, but I think that’s probably the way it is. If I ever walked into anybody’s house except that one, I’ve forgotten it.
There was a candle there in a candlestick, or whatever you call those things. They are like a saucer, only there is a handle like a teacup’s and a socket for the candle; on that island, everybody used them. One time I asked about candle making just to make conversation. There is a kind of wax you got from pressing seeds. The rest of the seed was seedcake; you fed that to horses or pigs. Then you mixed the wax with a little seal fat to make it burn brighter. Tie a pebble on a string and keep dipping it into the hot wax until the wax was as thick as two fingers. Cut the string at the bottom and the top, leaving enough at the top to light, and there’s your candle.
Which is probably a lot more than you wanted to know. Anyway, Audrey lit our candle in what was left of the fire, then we went up to bed, her first and carrying the candle. I had not figured her as somebody who c
ould climb a ladder carrying a candle, but she did fine. When I got up into the loft, she passed the candle to me. I wanted to blow it out when she started undressing, I do not know why, because I had seen her on the boat. She said I could look as long as I didn’t say anything. I told her anything I said would be complimentary, and she told me just keep my mouth shut.
Which I did. The boys had slept together, the old couple had said, and the girls had separate beds. It seemed to me the boys got the best deal, at least in cold weather. I do not think it can be cold all the time on Lichholm, but any warm weather must come really slowly at midsummer and disappear before you have time to hang up your coat.
After five or ten minutes Audrey wanted to know if I was sleepy.
I said, “That depends.”
“I’m sleepy. That’s what I wanted to say. I ate too much and drank too much. So I’m going to lie down, and if you want to do anything you can do it; but don’t expect me to talk or wiggle around to keep you entertained, and if I’m asleep try not to wake me up.”
That was fine with me.
10
THE COTTAGE IN THE CAVERN
Next morning I supposed that Audrey and I would hike across the village to the house where Dr. Fevre was staying with Rose and Millie, but we didn’t have to. I had just finished shaving when Audrey yelled for me to get my coat on. I did, still wishing I had a warm cap, and tramped out the front door in my new boots and just about all the clothes I had.
I’d seen the sleigh before I stepped out the door, but I hadn’t realized that it had come for us. It was pretty big and there were no regular seats for passengers, but there were four bales of straw in back. I sat on one of those.
Audrey sat up front beside the driver. That was going over to the house where Dr. Fevre was staying, and it ticked me off. When Dr. Fevre got in, he sat up front and Audrey in back with me, which I liked a hell of a lot better.
I could smell the food as soon as we went inside to get him, “we” meaning Audrey, the driver, and me. Millie was working her magic in the kitchen: thick bacon and thin bacon, two kinds of sausages, and griddle cakes with lovely dark butter and honey.
