The Drawing of the Dark

'Well!' he said. 'Thanks.' He started to draw back.

'Not so fast, we're not through.' Aurelianus was untangling a spool and needle from a lot of other litter in the metal box. 'Look somewhere else, now, and tell me about these devils.'

Staring a little nervously at the uneven stones of the ceiling, Duffy told him about the evening's bizarre, musically accompanied duel. 'But I was certain I was a dead man, right at the start there,' he said when he'd finished. 'I just watched helplessly while my body performed actions I never willed. And, somehow the harder I tried to shake off enchantments and let my real self take control, the stronger this... other control became.'

'Yes, I can imagine. Look, I don't know how to tell you this gently, but there's an errand you and I have to run tonight before we can totter off to our beds. It shouldn't be too -'God damn it, no!' Duffy exploded. 'You're insane! Tonight? I'm not even going to listen -''Silence!' Aurelianus thundered. 'You will listen to me, and that respectfully, you ignorant, brawling fool. I wish I could give all this to you slowly, with lots of explanation, and time to assimilate it and ask questions, but if our situation was good enough to allow for all that, neither of us would have to be here in the first place.' Aurelianus was angry, but in spite of his words Duffy suspected that the

anger was not really aimed at him. 'Do you want to know what happened to you tonight? Hah? Oh, you do? Then pay attention - those two creatures were.., scouts, shall we say, advance riders of the Eastern Empire. God knows what they were doing here already - Suleiman hasn't even left Constantinople yet, and I didn't expect this kind of thing to appear until he was well up the Danube.' He shook his head unhappily. 'But one makes the best preparations one can, and then deals with difficulties as they arise.' He was working busily over Duffy's hands, but vague pressures and tugging were all the Irishman felt. 'The fact that these things focused on you, rather than the city in general, or the brewery, is particularly worrying. It indicates that they weren't just blindly sent north by Ibrahim, but rather were summoned and instructed by someone here. I'd give a lot to know who that would be.'

'So would I,' Duffy growled. 'But you haven't said yet what this errand is.'

'We're going to summon equivalent guards.'

'And another thing - ' Duffy paused. 'Did you say equivalent?'

'Yes. What other thing?'

'Oh. Uh. . .yes. What did exactly happen during that fight? What was that when my body started acting on its own, and cut my hand and went on guard with only my dagger? If you say you don't know, I won't believe you,' he added.

'Very well. I think I can tell you that.' He gathered up his things. 'Do you have a pair of gloves? Well, here. Shake some of this powder into them before we start tonight. It'll kill the pain and keep the cuts clean.' He sat back and smiled coldly. 'This will of necessity sound a trifle mystical to you. I hope you don't object.'

'I can't object, if it's true.'

'That's right. Doubtless you've heard of reincarnation?'

'Yes. To have been an Egyptian princess in some previous life.' Duffy picked up his tankard and took a long draught. 'Why is it always Egyptian princesses that they were?'

'Because most people weren't anything at all, and they make up something that sounds glamorous to lend a bit of color to the only life they'll ever have. But I'm not talking about those fools. A few people really have lived previous lives, and you are one of them. When -,

'Who was I?'

Aurelianus blinked. 'Hm? Oh, it's.. .hard to say. Anyway, when those two sky-creatures attacked you this evening, an earlier version of you obviously took over.'

'And nearly got me killed,' Duffy muttered.

'Oh, don't be an idiot. He had to take over. What would you have done if he hadn't? Just rushed at the things waving your sword and dagger, right?'

Duffy shrugged and nodded.

'Right. You have no experience in these matters, but your earlier self did. He knew that the monsters were on profoundly alien ground, and didn't dare touch the earth - hence those odd, stilted shoes. He knew, too, that the only way to resist the hypnotic, will-sapping magic of the pipe-music was to have an anchor, establish a connection in blood and steel with the earth of the West; very like Antaeus, you'll recall, who could out-fight anyone as long as he was in contact with the ground. When you lifted the sword from the pavement, and broke the contact, your strength left you - and thank Finn Mac Cool you happened to fall holding your dagger point-forward, so that the connection was immediately re-established.'

The Irishman took another long sip, as two cooks came in and fussily hung the pot back up on the chain. 'Well,' he said finally, 'that does seem to cover the facts.'

The old sorcerer smiled. 'Good! I'm glad your mind still has some stretch left in it. Finish that beer and come on. With any luck we'll be back by midnight.' He stood up.

Duffy didn't. 'I'm injured. Go summon your own guards.'

'I can't do it alone,' Aurelianus said quietly.

'That shouldn't be any problem. The city's - hell, this inn is full of husky swordsmen who'd do anything for five kronen and a mug of beer. Get one of them.' The Irishman sipped his bock and watched the old man cautiously.

it has to be you,' Aurelianus said levelly, 'and it will be. I'd rather have you come along of your own free will, but I don't insist on it.'

Duffy glared at him. 'Meaning?'

'Meaning I can, if necessary, tell you certain things, show you things, remind you of things, that will bring back up to the surface the archaic personality that's dormant in you. Your body will come along in any case; it's up to you whether it's you at the tiller or...' He spread his hands. 'Or him.'

It required some effort for Duffy to conceal his sudden panic. He felt as if someone far away below in the darkness was chipping away at the pillars of his mind, and the steady crack... crack.. crack of it was the only sound in the universe. Just like at Bacchus' place in Trieste, he thought nervously; I am tremendously afraid of remembering something.. .and I emphatically don't want to know why, thank you. He raised the still half-full tankard, but paused and then put it down. At that moment the beer seemed to be a part of what was threatening him.

Slowly he looked up and met the sorcerer's eyes. 'I.. .will go,' he almost whispered. 'As I guess you knew all along.' He stood up wearily. 'In my life I've sometimes had to make men do things they didn't want to - but I've never soiled my hands with such a lever as that.'

'Fm sorry,' Aurelianus said. 'I wish the situation didn't necessitate it.'

'I'll get my doublet.' He sighed and rubbed his face gingerly. 'Is this to be a full dress sword-and-hauberk affair?'

'Dagger and hauberk. There won't be room to swing a sword.'

Duffy raised his eyebrows. 'I see. Going to fight dust-mice under the beds, eh? Give me a few minutes.' He walked out of the kitchen, consciously putting a bit of spring into his step.

The old man smiled sadly at the empty doorway. 'You always did need some prodding,' he muttered, 'and I never have played fair. But you've always been the only piece solid enough to stand in the breach.'

Chapter Ten

Aurelianus led the way down several halls, of varying age and architecture, to the side of the rambling old building farthest from the brewing cellar. The low ceiling of the last corridor was black and greasy from centuries of candle smoke, and the oil-lamp in Aurelianus' bony hand sent up its own infinitesimal deposit.

'Where the hell are we going?' Duffy demanded, in a whisper so as not to awaken any tenants in the rooms on either side.

'The old chapel.'

At the end of the hail stood two tall iron doors set in a Romanesque arch, and Aurelianus fished a ring of keys from under his gown and turned one of them in the lock. The doors swung open easily and the two men stepped through.

The moon lit the stained-glass windows in shades of luminous gray, and Duffy was able to see without the aid of Aurelianus' smoky lamp. The high, domed ceiling, the pulpit, and the pews and kneelers clearly identified the room as a chapel, in spite of the dustcovers pulled over the statues and crucifix, and the piles of boxes, buckets and ladders beside the doors.

Duffy waved at a stacked arsenal of mops and brooms. 'All you use this room for is one huge maid's closet?'

The old man shrugged. 'No one would hear of putting it to so low a use as an auxiliary dining room,' he said, 'and

I can't use it as a chapel because the Archbishop forbade mass ever to be said here again when I took over.' He closed and re-locked the doors.

Chuckling softly, the Irishman followed him up the center aisle to the communion rail. Aurelianus unhooked a dusty velvet rope and let the free ends hook clank on the marble step. 'Come on,' he said, striding up to the altar.

Duffy did, and was amused to find himself uneasy at not genuflecting. His right hand even twitched in the reflex to bless himself. I know what previous self that is, he thought. It's ten-year-old Brian the altar boy.

Aurelianus stepped around to the right side of the high altar and then edged his way into the narrow gap between it and the wall. Though not pleased about it, Duffy followed. In that confined, shadowy space Aurelianus' lamp seemed bright again, and the Irishman was surprised to see painted shapes on the wall four inches away from his face. A fresco, by God, he thought, completely hidden by the altar. He was pressed too close to it to see what its subject was, but he did shuffle past one clearly visible detail: a procession of naked women carrying sheaves of grain to a mill. Ho ho, he thought. Those rapscallious old monks.

'There's a step here,' said Aurelianus over his shoulder.

'Up?' inquired Duffy.

'Down.' Aurelianus peered back at him with a cold smile. 'Down and out.'

Duffy carefully set both booted feet onto the stone step before trying for the next. When he'd taken a dozen of them he was below the level of the floor, and he found himself in a claustrophobically tight and lowroofed spiral stairwell, hunching and groping his way by the reflected light from Aurelianus' lamp. The old sorcerer was about half a spiral below him, and though the Irishman could

clearly hear his scuffling steps and his breathing, he couldn't see him.

'Damn it, wizard!' exclaimed Duffy, lowering his voice in mid-word as he noticed how the tight-curled stone tube amplified sounds. 'Slow up, will you? This stairway was obviously built for gnomes.'

Aurelianus' head poked into view around the bricks of the curved inward wall. 'I must insist on complete silence from here onward,' he hissed, and withdrew below.

The Irishman rolled his eyes and continued his awkward descent, bent-kneed and crouching to keep from bumping his head on the stone roof. The steps were rounded as if by millennia of use, but every time his boots slipped on one it was easy to catch himself by bracing his hands against the close walls. No sir, he thought, this isn't a stairway in which you'd have to worry about taking a tumble. Though, he reflected uneasily, if you did fall, and got jammed head-downward in here, somebody would have to come with hammers and break your bones to get you unwedged. He took a few deep breaths and forced the thought out of his mind.

The corkscrew shaft didn't go straight down; it seemed to Duffythat it slanted slightly north. By now we must be about thirty feet under the cobblestones of the Malkenstrasse, he thought. Maybe if we go deep enough we'll be outside the city altogether.

By the dim light he had noticed words scratched roughly in the bricks, and he paused to puzzle out a couple of the inscriptions. PROPTER NOS DILATAVIT INFERNUS OS SUUM, he read, and, a few steps later, DETESTOR OMNES, HORREO, FUGIO, EXECROR. Hm, he thought; the first graffiti was a comment on how eagerly the mouth of Hell awaits us, and the second is just somebody expressing a lot of hatred for 'all of them.' Evidently the foreman of this tunnel-digging job failed to keep the workmen happy. Well-educated workmen they were, too, to be scrawling in Latin instead of German.

'Hey,' Duffy whispered. 'Why are these inscriptions in Latin?'

The sorcerer didn't even peer back. 'This was a Roman fort once, remember?' came his whisper from below.

'Romans spoke Latin. Now be quiet.'

Yes, the Irishman thought, but Romans didn't have chapels, at least not Christian ones. What sort of chamber did this damned stair once lead down from?

His continually hunched posture was beginning to give him knee-twitches and a throbbing headache, but when after a half-hour's steady descent they came to a wide landing and Aurelianus proposed a brief rest, the headache went away but the throbbing did not; a deep reverberation, like a slow drum-beat, was coming from below, vibrating through the stone, to be felt in the bones rather than heard. For one panicky moment Duffy thought something ponderous was walking slowly up the stairs, but after a few more seconds he decided the source was stationary.

As he sat panting and massaging his right leg he noticed more scratches on the walls, and lifted the sorceror's lamp to see what the sentiments were at this level. Instead of Latin words, though, he saw a number of horizontal lines hatched by short vertical and diagonal strokes. Well I'm damned, he thought - these inscriptions are in Ogham! I didn't think you could find this primordial script except in a few Celtic ruins in Ireland. I wish I could read them.

Then he had hastily clanked the lamp back down beside Aurelianus and said, 'Let's push on, shall we?' -for it had seemed to him that he could have read them, if he'd really tried. And no one since the druids had ever been able to.