The Ghosts of N-Space - Barry Letts [56]
‘Woof, woof?’
It was the Doctor, peeping out of the door of the workshop.
Guiltily checking the door through which Max Vilmius might have come back (but hadn’t, thank goodness), Sarah gave an all-clear wave and ran across.
On their way back, the Doctor gave her a potted account of what he’d learnt; necessarily in dribs and drabs because he had to shut up whenever they met anybody.
Yes he’d found the document and it was what he feared: A Latin translation of a Spanish version of an Arabic extract from a Greek text taken from an Egyptian original probably 197
penned by the legendary Mercurius, Hermes Trismegistus himself, who was, so esoteric tradition had it, none other than the god Thoth.
‘Everybody knows that what the alchemist was searching for was the philosopher’s stone, which would turn base metal into gold, and produce the elixir of life. But that’s a vulgar misunderstanding of the true quest,’ he was saying as they hurried through the long corridor which was apparently a short-cut to the stairway to his room. ‘The adept’s real goal was the direct apprehension of reality itself
– the attainment of spiritual immortality if you like. Ssh!’
As they passed the sweet-creamery smell of the dairy (Sarah could see them through the door actually churning the butter), the Doctor’s long-striding haste gave way to the dignified stroll of the philosopher-sage, giving his poor long-suffering page a chance to catch his/her breath.
‘But Maximilian wants – wanted – oh, phooey! He wants to live forever on earth, isn’t that right?’
‘Right. The two things were always linked. “As above, so below” as the old alchemical saying has it. But it was always more than a symbol. I know what you’re going to say; you’re going to say that it isn’t dissimilar to the Taoist quest for longevity as a sign of spiritual purity –’
Was she? Sarah was having difficulty keeping up in more ways than one.
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‘– and of course you’re right –’
Oh, goody.
‘– but in practical terms we know that the two things can be separated. The highest aim can always be corrupted.
The “marriage of Sol and Luna” is the alchemist’s code for the combining into one of the earthly body and the N-Body.
That’s what the elixir vitae is all about. That’s the secret that Max’s document contains. And that’s what he’s going to try to achieve – at midnight tonight!’
Luckily the fiend wasn’t very efficient. After the first lucky shot which knocked Jeremy over (and scorched his shirt), its attack seemed to be little more than a random spray, like somebody watering the garden and missing the flowers at the front of the border; shrinking violets on this particular occasion.
Even as the Brigadier rolled onto his front from the undignified posture he’d landed in, he was going for the stun-gun in his belt, and managed to get a pot-shot at the little furry horror within seconds.
As he did so, he half expected to experience his usual feeling of frustration when trying to deal with the creatures he thought of as ‘the Doctor’s monsters’. ‘No good shooting at it,’ he’d so often heard the Doctor say. ‘It’s impervious to bullets.’
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But then he realized that he’d succeeded admirably. He must have hit it square on, for it reared up even higher, uttered a strange cry something between a squeal and a yelp, turned and scampered back the way it had come.
‘Good hunting!’ cried Mario, as it disappeared behind the house, hopefully to go back from whence it came, ‘You one lousy good shooter, Alistair.’
A comprehensive description, thought the Brigadier, and not far from the truth, taken over all. He’d better post the old codger as lookout; they mustn’t be surprised again, and with his weight and strength he’d hardly be missed on gate detail; and it was obviously going to take them some considerable time to get the ruddy thing moving.
But when the rest of them had reluctantly taken up their positions on the rope like a string of ill-assorted