Ghosts by Gaslight - Jack Dann [211]
My hand was in my pocket, wrapped around the scalpel. The only thing that saved the idiot’s life is that Rothac’s cottage came into view. The chimney of the place belched a strange violet smoke, and as we drew closer to its door, the air filled with a sweet aroma.
At the cottage door, Chibbins turned his back to it and then knocked with the heel of his shoe. “How’s that?” he asked.
I couldn’t let him know because the door opened then and an exceedingly short, balding man, wearing a fur vest and holding a large knife, came into view.
“Rothac?” I said.
He nodded.
“Physiognomists Cley and Chibbins,” I said. “We’ve been sent by the Master to investigate Barlow’s death.”
“Come in,” he said.
I had to duck to get through the door, and once inside, the ceiling was mere inches above me. Chibbins was taller than I, and he was forced to keep his head down. The handyman showed us to small chairs at a small table.
“Welcome to my home,” said Rothac.
“A droll trolliary, to be sure,” I said. He smiled while I studied his form. The bulging, naked forehead accentuated by a ring of hair was an obvious sign of intellect, but the rest of the runtish fellow seemed underdone as if Nature had taken him from the oven before the yeast had risen. My instruments, I was sure, would indicate a propensity for treachery and animal desire.
“What can you tell us of ghosts?” I asked.
Rothac looked behind him and then leaning forward whispered, “The Sanctity of Grace. She hears everything, sees everything, knows everything.”
Chibbins leaned to the side in his chair and farted. “Do you think she heard that?” he asked.
“She heard it before you were born,” said Rothac.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“She comes at night, out of the old cemetery, sometimes wailing, sometimes humming as if to a child at bedtime. She glows green in the dark and her face is cruel.”
“And she killed Barlow?” I asked.
“If you believe in accidents, then Barlow’s death was one,” he said.
“Don’t speak to me in riddles,” I warned him. “Your stature and this tragedy of a home are enough as it is to make me think I’ve fallen into a tedious fairy tale. Out with it directly.”
“Hear, hear,” said Chibbins and banged the table with his fist.
“One can’t be sure, but the Sanctity has the ghost magic to have made it happen.”
“The Sanctity?” I said.
“Of Grace,” said Rothac. “As the fairy tale would have it, she was one of the workers, let’s say, ‘impressed’ into service by Master Below to build this forest retreat. No one knows her real name, but there were many stories from the workers in the camp about her acts of kindness. There was even a story in which she breathed life into a dead calf.”
“To the point,” I reminded.
“Well, when the Palace was finished, because it contained secret passageways and tunnels that the Master wanted revealed to no one, he called in his security force and on a summer afternoon, at gunpoint, the workers were ordered to dig their own graves. When they were finished, they were to signal to the gunmen, at which point they would be shot and fall to their final rest. For their service to the city, Below had four hundred headstones brought, each expertly carved with one of the dead worker’s names.”
“Generous,” I said.
“Munificent,” said Rothac with a touch of seditious irony.
I was about to point out to him that a stone could easily be carved for him as well when Chibbins inquired as to what was in the bubbling pot on the hearth. “Stew?” asked my partner. I have to admit, I was wondering, myself, as the aroma from it was most alluring, like some kind of hot liquid pastry.
Rothac said, “Come and see this.” He hopped down from his little chair, and I lifted my aching hindquarters off mine. We all repaired to the adjoining room where there was a very large fireplace, its brickwork taking up one entire wall. The fire blazed and bubbles were bursting in the pot, which hissed and spit like a wildcat. As we drew closer to it, a faint violet mist could be seen rising away from the brew and up the chimney.
We stood for a few moments staring into the pot. Chibbins