“Good evening, Jack,” the vicar said, and Morris and MacCab nodded.
Lynette lay on her back upon the altar, head turned in our direction, eyes closed, breathing slow. Well drugged, of course. She had on a long white garment, and her dark hair hung loose. I looked away. Obviously, the protest had been overridden. I sniffed the air. No sign of Jill or Graymalk yet.
The fire bloomed more brightly. Jack set his bag down and moved to help with it. I decided on a quick patrol of the area, and I made a big circuit. There was nothing unusual to be found. I went and stared at the huge stone. Just then the edge of the moon appeared from behind the clouds. Its light fell upon it. The markings had become visible again, dark, upon the illuminated surface. I went and sat by Jack’s satchel.
The vicar had on a dark cloak which made a swishing sound as he moved. It did not conceal the fact that he was a short, slightly fat man, and it neither added to nor detracted from his appearance of menace. That was all in his face, with its intense expression of controlled mania. The moon was doubled in his glasses.
Under their joint ministrations the banefire grew to a respectable size. The vicar was the first to toss something into it, a small parcel which crackled and flared bluely. I took a sniff. It involved herbs I’d encountered before. Morris added two parcels, which I could tell involved bones. Jack added a very small one which produced a green flash. I tossed in one of my own, along with the pissed-on stick. The moon slid completely free of the clouds.
The vicar went and stared at the inscription, not even glancing at his stepdaughter. Then he backed away, turned to his left, took several paces, halted, turned back toward the stone. He adjusted his position slightly, then scuffed at the ground with his bootheel.
“I will position myself here,” he stated, glancing at Jack.
“I have no objection,” Jack said. “Your associates will be to your right, I presume?”
“That was what I had in mind. Morris here, MacCab to his right, then Jill,” he said, gesturing.
Jack nodded, just as a dark shape swept past the face of the moon. Moments later, Nightwind dropped out of the sky, coming to rest atop the woodpile.
“Hello, Snuff,” he observed. “Care to switch?”
“No, thanks. Yourself?”
He did one of those unusual rotations of his head.
“I think not, especially when we outnumber you in all respects.”
Shortly, Tekela swept in with a caw, landing upon the vicar’s left shoulder.
“Greetings, Nightwind,” she said.
“A good Game to you, sister.”
She looked at me and looked away. She said nothing. Neither did I.
Everyone added more kindling and more ingredients to the fire. Finally, a pair of fairly large logs were set upon it. Many-colored flames played about them, and soon the logs darkened and the fires danced upon their surfaces. A mixture of odors reached me as powders, bones, herbs, fleshy samples of anatomy, both human and other, were added. A few vials of liquid were also dumped upon it, to smolder and produce heavy, crawling ropes of smoke, to flare brightly, briefly. Within the crackling, I seemed to hear a subliminal whispering begin.
I heard Jill’s footsteps mounting the northern slope long before she appeared. When she did she was hard to distinguish against the night for several moments, as she had on a hooded black cloak over a long black dress. She looked taller, more slim; and she carried Graymalk, though she set her down immediately when she achieved the level area.
“Good evening,” she said, in general. All four men responded.
“Hi, Snuff,” Graymalk said, coming up beside me. “It’s a good fire already.”
“Yes.”
“As you can see. . . .”
“You were overridden.”
“Did you find Larry?”
“No.”
“Oh my.”
“There is a backup plan,” I said, and Nightwind came by just then, to greet Graymalk.
I felt a strong desire to howl at the moon. It was such a howlable moon. But I restrained myself.
The smell of incense reached me. Jill had just begun casting parcels into the banefire. The moon moved nearer to midheaven.