by Gene Wolfe
When she had gone, I said, “High shelves, I bet.”
“In this place,” Baston muttered, “that there’s the best kind there is.”
He showed me the bathroom in which we could shower, and where I could change my clothes for a robe. I did so as soon as he left; naturally I hung on to my watch. Baston himself, I noticed, had retained his gun belt and both guns.
I seldom find it hard to sleep, but that night was an exception. I must have lain awake listening to the faint noises of the night for an hour or more. Eventually I clearly slept, for I woke to find myself walking toward a long, bare table ringed by eight chairs. To my left was a curved crystal wall, beyond that a rolling lawn dotted with pale groves and lit by moonlight. For seconds that became minutes I stood staring at those groves before I set off in search of a door.
In a few minutes I discovered a narrow one hidden by a curtain. Something definite about the way that door closed and clicked behind me told me I was locked out. Tugging at the handle confirmed it.
In one way being locked out seemed serious; in another it did not. Serious because my patron was likely to think I had tried to run away. Not serious because it seemed to me that I was bound to find an unlocked door or an open window soon, given the size of the house, or that Baston might wake up and let me in.
Perhaps I ought to have tried to wake him by knocking on the door or tossing pebbles at windows. I did neither because the noise was liable to wake someone else, and it seemed to me that if I were to circle that enormous house I was sure to find some way to get inside. If I did, I was confident that I could locate the library. Turning to my left, I began looking for an unlocked door or window.
I hadn’t gone far when I realized that a big dog, black or at least quite dark, was following me. I’ve always liked dogs; so I stopped, spoke to this one in a quiet voice, and let him sniff my fingers.
At that moment my watch struck one and the dog’s ears went up. Softly I said, “That’s just the little clock I wear on my wrist. It’s called a watch, you see, but it strikes the hours.”
The dog cocked his massive head.
“You ought to know all about those. I suppose you’re a watchdog yourself.”
If the dog wagged his tail, it was too dark for me to see it. Reflecting that this dog was likely to be more intelligent than the dogs of my own time, and that talking calmly to a dog is generally a good way to show that you mean no harm, I said, “I’m locked out. Do you have a way to get back into the house?”
The dog appeared to nod, then turned and trotted away. I followed, walking fast to keep up. After two or three hundred strides we reached a wide porch, roofed, guarded with staunch pillars and furnished in shadows. I could just make out what appeared to be a narrow door on the other side. When I tried to open it, it would not budge. With a weary sigh, I looked down at the dog and was just in time to see his tail disappear.
Down on my hands and knees, I said softly, “Wuff!” all the while wondering whether the dog door had some way of distinguishing dogs from people. It seemed that it did not. I crawled through quickly and without much difficulty, watched by the dog. No doubt he was judging my dogginess and finding it less than satisfactory.
I have no idea what the occupants of the house called the room I had gotten into. There was a harp, stately and golden, with what seemed to be at least a hundred strings, all of which I was careful not to touch. There was also a painting (I could not see it clearly enough to judge whether it was finished) on an easel. Something in a cage snarled at the dog, then at me; its green eyes caught the light like emeralds. Twice life-sized, the statue of a bearded man with a woman’s breasts bent to inspect me but offered no comment.
Very much afraid of being caught, I dodged around a flickering fire somewhere near the center of the room and found a new door. It was locked, or perhaps bolted on the other side. I was about to turn away when something poked the small of my back. “Reach fer the sky!”
I raised my hands. “Buck? Is that you?”
“Last time I looked.” There was no more poking. “What the Sam Hill you doin’ in here, Ern?”
I tried to explain.
“Well come on back ’fore somethin’ worse than either of us gits us both.” He led the way. “What you go off for? You dead set on getting burned ’fore your time?”
Using much too many words, I struggled to explain that I had walked in my sleep. When I had finished, Baston said, “You do that a lot, Ern? Goin’ round like a spook?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Never before, I think.”
“Somethin’ got hold of you then. You know what it was?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, I think. People do walk in their sleep sometimes.”
“Could be somethin’ gits hold of them, too. You sure you wasn’t lookin’ fer the treasure?”
“Perhaps I was.” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
When I got back on my shelf I couldn’t sleep for an hour and more, and all sorts of thoughts flitted through my mind. At last I slept, and sleeping saw the fire. I was old and stooped and worn, the aged edition of myself who had stolen a scalpel from Dr. Fevre and taken his own life with it in the Polly’s Cove Library. I was drawn to this aged self, as an iron filing to a magnet—then a woman’s hand, hard and muscular but quite definitely a woman’s, drew me back. I woke drenched with sweat.
Perhaps I slept again, though I doubt it; when I heard someone walking in another room, I left my shelf. Shaved, aftershaved, and dressed, I waited in the kitchen for Ms. Harper Heath.
“Mr. Smithe! What are you doing up?”
“And off your shelf?” I smiled. “That’s something else you’ll soon ask. I thought I might save you the trouble. Will you talk to me while you have breakfast?”
“Listen to you, you mean.” She paused, her head tilted left. “If you’re going to tell me you’ve already found the treasure, I certainly will. Is that it?”
“I’m afraid not. I only want to offer a suggestion.”
“Have you eaten?”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid not.”
“You’re repeating yourself. Sit down and order something. Whatever you want.”
I did, ordering oatmeal and coffee.
“Were you tempted to order kippers, Mr. Smithe?”
“No. Kippers never occurred to me.”
“Well, I’m going to have some anyway. I’ll give you a taste when you’ve finished your oatmeal. Is that what you wanted? A taste of whatever I have for breakfast?”
I shook my head. “As I said, I want to offer a suggestion. I’ve been thinking about the treasure you mentioned, a treasure hidden here in the house, or perhaps buried on the grounds. It could be buried on the grounds, couldn’t it?”
“Yes, as far as I know.”
“That’s what I thought. Buried treasure has usually been buried by pirates—in books, at least.”
For a moment Ms. Heath stared at me, a small piece of kippered herring waiting on her fork. “Are you suggesting this one was? That’s crazy.”
“No, I’m not. I have no idea who may have buried it, or why. Do you?”
She shook her head. “None. The house says it exists, but that all further information has been deleted from its memory. I’m rich already, but…”
“Indeed. If you had more money, you might buy Baston and me from the library.”
“And let you come and go as you please, with spending money. We’ve already been over that.”
“It costs you nothing to check one of us out of the library.”
Slowly, Ms. Heath nodded.
“You have to put up a big deposit, but it’s returned when you return the resource.”
“That’s right. What are you getting at?”
Here it was. It might be a tough sell, but I was determined to make it. “I have a suggestion. I suggest that we bring in a resource I know who was once captured and held for ransom by pirates.”
“And you think this man might…”
“Is this somebody I’ve heard of?” Ms. Heath sounded interested.
“Very possibly. She’s written a number of books. Her byline is Audrey Hopkins—Captain Audrey Hopkins.”
The upshot was that Ms. Heath, Baston, and I went to the public library together. Audrey had been checked out, but Ms. Heath reserved her.
Baston sat up front beside Ms. Heath on the way back. From time to time one of them spoke. It may well be that I seemed to ignore some remark addressed to me. The truth was that I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I paid little attention to what they said or the route of our groundcar. I had known women prior to Audrey and, while I was with her, assumed that I would know others after she and I parted. Now I could only long for her and weave plots that might reunite us.
As soon as Baston and I were back at the house and alone, I motioned for him to follow me and led him to a picnic table outside. “You got somethin’,” he declared. “Somethin’ you don’t want that there house to hear ’bout.”
I shook my head. “I only hope to get something. Do I have to tell you why I tried to get Ms. Heath to check out Audrey?”
He grinned. “Not less you want to.”
“Then we’ll skip that. Suppose we find the treasure. Will Ms. Heath keep her promise?”
“You’re a mite smarter ’n that, Ern.”
“Smart enough to value your opinion. Will she?”
“Depends on what it is.” Baston drew one of his guns, thumbed the hammer back to half cock, and thoughtfully spun the cylinder. “If it’s good, I won’t have to use this. If it ain’t, why I jest might.”
“They’ll burn you for it.”
He shrugged. “Ever been to the Badlands, Ern?”
“Are they real? They sound legendary.”
“A man could hide out there fer years if a hundred men was lookin’ fer him. You an’ me will have a talk ’bout them some other time, mebbe. You goin’ back to bed?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither. Sun’ll be up in a hour or so. Lord knows I ain’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I kin find us that kitchen.”
21
A NEW FEVRE
There was a table there at which a familiar figure sat. I smiled, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside her. “Good morning, Rose. Do you know who I am?”
For a long moment she stared at me, then favored me with a radiant smile. As she did Buck Baston joined us, sitting on my left. I nodded. “Yes, I am the copy of Ern A. Smithe who rode in the trailer with you and Millie. That copy of Ern A. Smithe.”
She thanked me.
“Tell me something, Ern.…” Thoughtfully, Rose paused. “I … I’m not entirely ignorant but I need a lot more experience.”
“What is it that you need to know?”
“I—well, am I right when I think that I’m fully human?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“While you…?”
Before I could speak, Dr. Fevre joined us, setting a steaming cup on the table and pulling out a chair.
I said, “I’m a reclone, Rose. So are you. I am a resource currently on loan from the Spice Grove Public Library. Dr. Fevre’s wife checked me out of the Polly’s Cove Public Library some time ago. In a few days I’ll be overdue.”
“I see.…”
“When I am it will be my duty to go back there if I can, and I’d like your help with that.”
Slowly Rose nodded.
“May I have it? Have your help?”
She looked thoughtful. “Dr. Fevre checked me out. Would you like him to check you out too, or are you hoping he’ll return you?”
Dr. Fevre smiled but said nothing.
“I’d like him to check me out, of course. That would give me three checkouts this year. I should be safe for quite a while.”
Rose nodded, a little sadly. “I am already, Ern. Of course I’m the most recent edition at present. I … we romances age horribly fast.”
“That can’t be pleasant.” I tried to make it as sympathetic as I felt.
“Sometimes I look forward to it, daydream about the peace and the quiet.” One lily-white hand rose to cover her décolletage. “A whole year on the shelf when there’s not one lonely man anywhere who wants to run his poor damp hands over everything.”
Baston muttered, “Copper’d sooner be gold, only gold ’ud sooner be copper, passin’ from one to the next ’un an’ seein’ the world.”
“To remain on the shelf year after year, of no use to oneself or anyone else, is at least as painful as the fire,” I told Rose. “One eats and sleeps, and watches impatient patrons in search of something one can only guess at. We call it gathering dust.”
“And after that…”
I nodded.
Dr. Fevre had been listening. Now he went to the screen and gave his name. “My wife has checked out a resource titled Ern A. Smithe. My wife’s name is Adah Fevre.” He spelled it. “Smithe is here with me, and tells me he’ll be overdue soon. I’d like to check him out myself.”
“Do you have a library card, sir?”
“I have a universal card.” Dr. Fevre got out the platinum card and displayed it to the screen.
A moment later he turned back to me. “All right, you’re set for two more weeks. What do you know about the treasure?”
“Only that we found it and you have it.” Biting back half a dozen questions, I added, “I take it you want me to help you figure it out.”
“I want you to find out what it does, and how it can be made to do it safely, either in my company or in my absence. When you do, you must return it to me, your patron, and tell me what you’ve learned. I promise that you’ll be generously rewarded.” Dr. Fevre paused. “More than enough to let you buy yourself out, if the treasure lives up to expectations.”
I asked, “Is that legal? Buying myself out? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“That’s because it’s so rare. You need the help of a fully human who will act as the buyer of record, first buying and then freeing you. It takes a good deal of money. If you have that much, fully human help is easily found.”
Mostly to myself I said, “If the treasure’s as valuable as you seem to think, I’ll be able to buy myself out.”
Dr. Fevre nodded. “You may, if your share is large enough.”
“Even if it isn’t…”
“Money is always useful. I have no doubt you’ll find a use for it.”
“I’m not actually afraid of being burned,” I said. “Not for myself, at least. There’s a lady who checks me out for one day each year. That should keep me alive for a good long time.”
“You’re probably right, if she’s faithful and doesn’t die herself.”
Rose looked up from her omelet. “I take it she’s fully human?”
“Correct. Do you know about the treasure we found?”
She shook her head. “All I know is that you two got it. Have you figured it out yet? It sounds interesting.”
“This house seems certain it’s powerful,” I explained, “but it doesn’t know any more about it.”
When I had finished, Rose shook Tabasco sauce on what remained of her omelet, dotting its yellow surface with splashes of scarlet. “You think it might be gold and gems.”
I shook my head. “That would be nice, but it doesn’t seem probable. Money seems almost as unlikely. It might really be a scientific secret.”
“That wouldn’t interest me, since I couldn’t understand it. Could you?”
“Probably not. It would depend.”
“I guess it always depends.” Rose fell silent. When I offered no comment she said, “We traveled in that trailer together, Ern, and you never tried to climb into my bed. Not once. Are we friends?”
I was quiet for a moment, remembering. “We aren’t close friends, Rose. But we certainly aren’t enemies.”
She chewed and swallowed. “Aren’t
you hungry? I think I can probably order something for you.”
I shook my head.
“I was. When peace comes at last, it finds us with an empty stomach.”
I said, “Please eat. Don’t mind me.”
For half a minute or so she did. Then, “Care to tell me how you got here, Ern?”
“If you wish. The doctor’s wife checked me out. She wanted to consult me, but didn’t want—just then—to leave her home. She sent Chandra to fetch me. I assume you know that the Fevres have a daughter?”
“Of course. I take it she’s not here.”
“Correct. She’s at home with her mother as far as I know. With Dr. Fevre’s wife, in other words. Did you know he was married?”
“Yes. She’ll be shocked to find me alive.” The thought made Rose smile.
“Perhaps not. My guess is it will depend on her cycle. Her emotions rise and fall. You must know about that.”
Rose nodded. “So do yours and mine. It’s true of everyone.”
“Then let’s say it’s more marked—much more marked—in her than in most of us.”
“I suppose.” Thoughtfully, Rose paused. “I can only hope she’ll be pleased.”
22
UNBURIED TREASURE
When Audrey came in at last, she didn’t remember me. “You look terribly disappointed Mr.…”
“Smithe.” Devastated, I forced a smile. “That’s Smithe, with a final E. I—we were lovers, Audrey. Another copy of you, of course. This lonely copy of me.”
“You’re not much taller than I am.”
I made an effort to stand straighter. “Needlessly, I’ll acknowledge that you’re correct. I’m not. I won’t force the matter, force in love is always pointless.” I made myself draw a deep breath. “Once we stood together at the railing of the Three Sisters to look out at the sea. That was another copy of you, I realize; but this lonely copy of me. I love you still. If I were to meet a thousand copies of you, I might go mad for joy.”
“You’re sincere.” Audrey sighed.
“If ever in my life I have been entirely, utterly, sincere, this is it. All my life, ever since I was published, I have dreaded the Fire. Now I dread losing you.”
