articles should not be so much as touched by laymen.” Again he attempted
levity. “The wrong laying on of hands, heh, heh.”
Ginny looked around. She had unfolded a wand from her purse. The
star-point flickered, ice blue, bloodred. “You do have some powerful
things here,” she agreed. “Don’t you worry about accidents, intruders,
fire, whatever could happen in your absence?”
“I have spelled in an alarm.” He nodded at the Mayan figure. “If
untoward circumstances arise, it will call for assistance, loudly as
well as goetically.”
I decided that if it did cry, “Help! Help!” it must be a jaguar.
But why, why had Ginny settled on this old dodderer for our ally?
Then all at once he stood straight, looked squarely at us, and said in a
voice no longer thin but blade-keen: “Very well, shall we to work? We
can speak freely. The house was warded during the war against espial
human and nonhuman. I have kept its defenses active and up-to-date, for
I always hoped they would never be needed again, and I always suspected
they would.”
We sat down and commenced. He and Ginny spoke, or queried, directly to
the point. I put in what I was able, not much; but I wasn’t bored, Lord,
no.
More than an hour went to exchanging information. They’d have been
unwise to communicate other than minimally before now, no matter how
secure the channels seemed to be. She filled him in on the space project
situation, the native Beings, the spoor of Asian demons, the potentials
of Zuni lore, and the unpleasantness out in the mountains. For his part,
he knew considerable about Fu Ch’ing, and since she contacted him had
managed to learn more.
“Largely through professional connections, you know. He is enigmatic but
not totally isolated. Published several brilliant papers in the past,
exempli gratia, on modifications of Feng Shui, geomancy, required by the
theory of plate tectonics. Poems too, esteemed by connoisseurs, also for
their calligraphy. Various colleagues told me this or that about his
actions, his movements, yes, a few of his idiosyncrasies. And I still
have acquaintances in the Secret Service, who were willing to pass along
in confidence what little they knew…
“Yes, you are quite right, it would be futile for you to approach the
Service, Scotland Yard, or any other official agency. They could only
listen to you, and must needs forbid you to act. Moreover, while they
have not been subverted, it is far too possible that they have been
infiltrated to some unknown degree. Witness the failure of every attempt
to track him down.”
“I think a version of a Zuni finding spell that I’ve learned might do
the trick,” Ginny said. “He wouldn’t have safeguarded against that,
would he?”
Frogmorton raised his brows. “Eh, what? Surely useless in this clime,
this cultural setting. If it functioned at all, it might well merely
warn him.”
“I know. But I said a version. An adaptation, which you and I will work
out between us. Look, Southwestern procedures of that kind are basically
shamanistic, musical. That’s not in the English tradition, therefore
it’ll be unexpected. Yes, I realize it occurs in China and throughout
Central Asia. But this will employ a different scale, plus British
elements you will supply to create a unique hybrid. And the use of it,
the methods by which we bring the cantrip to bear, everything we’ll
employ will surely be unknown to Dr. Fu.”
“By God, we blindside him!” I exclaimed.
That was about all I got to say for another hour. Ginny and Frogmorton
were off into technicalities, nearly as incomprehensible to me as modern
literary criticism. Yet they kept my attention, ransacking musty books,
uttering strange words, and operating peculiar instrumentalities. I
shared the excitement that grew in them. The air fairly crackled with
it.
And finally my love turned to me, aglow, and said, “I think we’ve got
our basic spell, Steve. You’ll take part too.”
I realized I’d grabbed at the lens under my shirt. “How?” I admit I
barked.
She laughed. “For starters, any suggestions you can make about the
principal song. It’s the core of the spell, you see. Fu Ch’ing hides his