A Night in the Lonesome October by Roger Zelazny Read Free Book Online

yesterday," she said.   "Quicklime and I saw him go by on a chestnut mare."
         "Yes?"
         "Later, Cheeter saw the mare browsing in a field and mentioned it as something odd.   We sought about the area but the rider was nowhere near.   After a time, we went away."
         "You should have gotten me.   I could have backtracked."
         "I came by.   But you weren't around."
         "I did have some chores. . . . Anyway, what happened?"
         "I was in another field later, the place we're going to now, near you.   There was a pair of crows rising and falling there, and I was thinking of lunch.   So were they, as it turned out.   They were eating the officer's eyes, where he lay in a clump of weeds.   Just up ahead."
         We approached.   The birds were gone.   So were the eyes.   The man was in uniform.   His throat had been cut.
         I sat down and stared.
         "I don't like this at all," I finally said.
         "Didn't think you would."
         "It's too near.   We live just over that way."
         "And we live over there."
         "Have you told anyone else yet?"
         "No.   So it's not one of yours, unless you're a very good actor."
         I shook my head.
         "It doesn't make any sense."
          "Jack _is_ supposed to have magical control over a certain ritual blade."
         "And Owen has a sickle.   So what?   And Rastov has an amazing icon drawn by a mad Arab who'd given up on Islam.   But he could have used a kitchen knife.   And Jill has her broom.   She could still find something to cut a throat with."
         "You know about the icon!"
         "Sure.   It's my job, keeping track of the tools.   I'm a watcher, remember?   And the Count probably has the ring, and the Good Doctor the bowl.   I think it's just a regular killing.   But now we're stuck with a body in the neighborhood, and not just _any_ body.   It's a policeman.   There'll be an investigation, and, face it, we're all suspicious characters with things to hide.   We only planned to be here for a few weeks.   We do as much as we can of the active stuff outside the area, for now.   We try to stay relatively inconspicuous here.   But we're all transients with strange histories.   This is going to spoil a lot of planning."
         "If the body is found."
         "Yes."
         "Couldn't you dig a hole, push it in, and cover it up? The way you do with bones, only bigger?"
         "They'd spot a new grave, once they start looking.   No.   We have to get it out of here."
         "You're big enough to drag it.   Could you get it to that ruined church, push it down the opening?"
         "Still too near.   And it might scare the Count into moving, for fear people will be poking around there."
         "So?"
         "I like knowing where he is.   If he moves, we'll have to find him again. . . ."
         "The body," she said, interrupting an intriguing chain of speculation.
         "Yes, I'm thinking.   It's awfully far to the river, but I'm wondering whether I might be able to drag it there in stages and push it in.   There are a lot of places I could stow it along the way. . . ."
         "What about the horse?"
         "Could you check with Quicklime?   Tell him what happened, give him our reasoning.   Horses are often afraid of snakes.   Perhaps he could scare him into running back to town."
         "It sounds worth a try.   Maybe you'd better check to be sure you can handle the body."
         I moved around to the rear, seized hold of the collar, braced my legs, and pulled.   He came along nicely over the damp grass.   A little lighter than he looked, too.
         "Yes, I can move him.   I know I can't take him all the way at once, but at least I can get him out of here."
         "Good, I'll go and see whether Quicklime is out and about."
         She dashed off, and I commenced pulling the officer along, his ruined face