Medusa's Web by Tim Powers Read Free Book Online Page B

Claimayne tugged all the papers out from under the pebbles and put them in the pocket of his dressing gown. “How long since that fellow tightened all the screw jacks under the joists in the basements? It would never do to have the floors collapse during the party on Saturday.”
    â€œJoey the surfer? He quit when your mom blew herself up on the roof. I’m going to get Scott to take over the job, while he’s here.”
    â€œScott? I don’t like the idea of him clowning about with those things. Hire another fellow.”
    â€œNo, I want to order Scott to crawl around in the mud down there.”
    Claimayne shook his head, then winced and closed his eyes. “I suppose he can’t do much harm. I think I’m going to be . . . sitting in a hot bath now, for an hour or so.”
    Ariel nodded dubiously. “I remember it always hurts.”
    ARIEL WAS IN THE narrow kitchen spooning ground coffee into the percolator when Madeline stepped in from the slantingly sunlit dining room in yesterday’s jeans and sweater.
    Ariel gave her an unfriendly look, set the tin lid on the percolator and then reached into a jar of sugar cubes; and when she tried to pull a handful of them out, her fist was too wide for the mouth of the jar. Madeline recalled stories of monkeys being trapped that way.
    â€œYou look like a monkey trying to pull his hand out,” she said.
    â€œYou look like a monkey trying to pull his head out,” Arielretorted instantly, releasing the sugar cubes and yanking her hand free.
    Madeline thought about that. “His head? His head wouldn’t be wider. A squirrel’s might be, if its cheeks were full of nuts.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? I meant trying to pull his head out of his ass .”
    â€œOh.” Madeline decided to let it go. “I came down to get coffee.”
    â€œI just put it on, it’ll be ready soon. I’ve got some jobs for you and your brother. The heater on the roof—”
    â€œI’m an astrologer,” said Madeline.
    Ariel paused, her mouth still open. “Astrology won’t fix the heater.”
    â€œIt’s hard to imagine,” agreed Madeline. “Make a list of the things that need doing, and I’ll take it upstairs to Scott. I’m sure he can do work here; he’s got somebody filling in for him at the apartments where he usually works. Right now he wants coffee—he’s not feeling very well.”
    â€œOh, he killed the bottle upstairs after dinner?”
    The window over the sink was open, and the white curtains flapped in the breeze from over the shadowed lawn.
    â€œNo,” said Madeline, “I think he has what you and Claimayne had.”
    Ariel reddened and turned away and pulled open a drawer on the far side of the sink. She lifted out a pad and pencil and began hastily scribbling.
    â€œIt’s winter,” she said over her shoulder, “and the rooftop heater doesn’t work. Cups are in the cabinet by your head, sugar’s still in that jar, though I was going to put some in a bowl, and the coffee should be ready in a minute. The kid we had working here said the heater’s pilot light won’t stay lit. The kid kept the ladder leaned up against the house, since he was up on the roof a lot, but after Claimayne’s mad mother used it to climb up there, we threw it behind the poolhouse. You think Scott remembers where that is?”
    â€œThe Hispaniola, sure.” When they’d been children, the long-abandoned poolhouse had been their make-believe pirate ship, named after the vessel in Treasure Island .
    Ariel looked around at her. “That’s right.” She turned away again and resumed writing. “And there’s apparently a lot of things called screw jacks under the floor joists of the house—under all the buildings—and they need to be tightened up or this whole place will collapse. I think I can find a map for him of