Four Summoners Tales Part 51

He slammed his mug down on the table. "Don't give me sa.s.s! You wanted me, and you got me. Keep your tongue civil, or I'll beat you until you recall what it is, exactly, you got. Now, you tell me your problem, and don't leave out none of the details, and I'll figure out just what I'm going to do about it."

And so, I proceeded to tell him everything. I told him how I had found the book, and used it and brought Sir Albert back to life. I told him how I had extorted money from the others and how all of this had attracted the queen's attention. Finally, I told him how Sir Albert had threatened me and killed Lady Caroline. With only a few hours left before Sir Albert sent his man Hubert after me, I needed a resolution that was both speedy and sure.

"So, this Sir Albert is a th.o.r.n.y branch up your a.s.s," he observed, "but you can't do nothing about him because he's richer, stronger, smarter, and more ruthless than you."

It was not how I would have framed it, but my best course here was to make my father feel like he needed to show me up. "That is correct."

"And you want to bring this rich s.l.u.t of yours back to life. Let me give you a little bit of advice. If you find her soon enough," he told me, "before she starts to decay, you might want to have your way with her before you bring her back." He set his feet up on the table. "It's a pleasure few enough men sample, but I've never heard of a one who didn't enjoy it."

I stared at him indignantly. "I shan't violate her corpse!"

"No, not a gentleman like you.You only lied to her, brought her dead husband back to life because you knew it would make her miserable, and then took all her friends for what they were worth. But a man's got to draw the line somewhere, don't he?"

I made no answer to this.

"Aren't you going to ask me my price for helping you?" he said.

"I thought, perhaps, bringing you back to life would be sufficient."

"You thought wrong," he told me with a disturbing grin. It was the one he showed when he was pleased to demonstrate his power over me. "I want the method of resurrection. I want the power for myself."

"Only the owner of the book may possess the power," I told him, repressing a smile of triumph. "And you cannot read."

"I'll rip the lips off your face if I think you're laughing at me, boy," he said. "As for reading, I can learn, I suppose. But you will have to give me the book, and teach me the method. That will do for the nonce."

"Why do you want it?" I asked.

"Power," he said with a shrug. "And you met Mrs.Tyler."

"Yes," I said, thinking of his landlady and wondering why she would make him wish to own the book.

"She changed me," he said wistfully. "She made me into a different kind of man."

"I haven't seen any evidence of that," I said.

"Well, it's all mixed up now, isn't it?" he said. "I'm darker than I used to be. I can feel it. Coming back did something to me. And if she and I are going to be together, we need to even things up."

"So," I summarized, "you wish for the book so you can kill the woman you love and then bring her back in the hopes of her being more like you."

"That's it, exactly."

It seemed to me a very poor sort of idea to grant the power of life and death to my father, particularly as the first thing he would do is murder an innocent woman in the hopes that she would come back less good-natured. Nevertheless, I was not certain I saw an alternative. I needed a man such as he was, and such a man did not come without his price. I had to choose between saving Lady Caroline and granting G.o.dlike power to someone without pity or remorse. I chose to save Lady Caroline, and so I agreed to his terms.

"It is a power you must handle with respect and the utmost concern for the good of all mankind," I said.

"The devil take your respect and your care," he said. "If you want to save your highborn b.i.t.c.h, you will give it to me. If you care about all mankind, you will not."

"Then I shall give it to you."

He took a long drink from his mug. "Grand."

The next morning, we visited a series of stores that my father might purchase the items he required. We then proceeded at once to visit Sir Albert Worthington. My father stood there in his rough clothes, looking like a rustic. I was in my fine suit, a bit worn from escaping flames and a night in a wh.o.r.ehouse, but otherwise intact. My collar was clean, my b.u.t.tons glittering, and my sword hung by my side. In sum, I looked ineffectual, and my father looked like a poor sort of servant. It was just the sort of impression I wished to make.

It was Hubert who answered the door, and it rather surprised me that he would take upon himself so menial a task, but then I suspected I understood the meaning. Given that Sir Albert was going about killing his own wife and such, he had almost certainly sent the servants away.This was so much the better.

Hubert said very little, perhaps not wis.h.i.+ng to perform for us without the audience of his master. He merely led us to the parlor and vanished. Nearly an hour later, he returned, now with Sir Albert, and this time, Hubert appeared far more animated. That both men were amused by our presence, there could be no doubt. Each wore an easy, good-natured smile, as though they were chums freshly returned from an errand of mischief.

"Well," said Sir Albert, "you've come to pay me a visit. And you've brought an old ruffian who stinks of wh.o.r.es and drink. Very kind of you. Now, are you prepared to give me the book?"

My father cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "Begging your pardon, Sir Albert. I am Mr. January's father, and he has asked me to come here and speak a few words on his behalf."

"On his behalf!" cried Sir Albert. "I've never heard the like. Have you heard the like, Hubert?"

"I have not, sir," answered Hubert. "On his behalf indeed.

This ain't a funeral, nor nothing like one."

"If I may be so bold as to disagree," said my father. "It is rather

like one."

So saying he removed his pistols, one from each pocket, and