The Physiognomy (28 page)

“An egg waiting to hatch,” was how the Traveler had described the sphere. In my mind, I hit that egg with a hammer, kicked it with my boot, rode over it with a coach wheel, and sat on it like a hen, but nothing could crack it.

Finally, I gave in to the comfort of the beauty for the second time that evening. Corporal Matters of the day watch appeared in my bedroom, flailing away at a crystal egg with the monkey-headed cane. When he reached a state of near exhaustion, he rolled the dice on the end of my bed and announced, “Zero.”

28

“The conspiracy is real,” I told myself as I stepped out onto the street the next morning and, scanning the horizon, saw that there was no longer a top to the Top of the City. The long column that was the enclosed elevator that led to the domed restaurant had now a jagged end. The dome was absolutely gone and there was smoke issuing from the open shaft. I stopped the first person who passed me and asked what had happened.

“Explosion last night,” the man said. “There and over at the Ministry of Security—a whole wing was taken out.”

“Who is responsible?” I asked.

“They are saying that there are evil forces at work in the Well-Built City,” he said.

I thanked him for the information and hurried on to the café where I again bought a Gazette.
EXPLOSIONS ROCK CITY
was the headline. The story gave information on the loss of life, which was considerable in both instances, and made note that the Master was offering a hundred-thousand-below reward for information leading to the capture of the terrorists.

Things were heating up. The people of the O apparently were not waiting for me to move. I supposed that they knew about the upcoming executions in Memorial Park in a few days and were reacting violently to the idea of them, or perhaps this was in retaliation for the attack on the patrons of the bar the other night.

I had barely gotten into my first cup of shudder when a coach pulled up at the curb in front of the café. The driver got down and came walking over to me.

“There is an emergency meeting of the ministers this morning, your honor, and the Master requests your presence,” he said.

“Very well then,” I said. I paid for the shudder and took my cup and napkin and accompanied him to the coach.

The meeting was to be held in the Master's office at the Ministry of Benevolent Power. As we rode across town, we had to pass the Ministry of Security. I witnessed the aftermath of the destructive blast. The entire west wing of the building was now no more than a pile of rubble. The pink coral had crumbled like stale bread. Arms and legs and pipes and shards of windowpane poked out of the mess. Soldiers in riot armor patrolled the cordoned-off area. “These people aren't fooling around,” I thought to myself.

We turned past what was left of the building and headed uptown toward the Master's office. As we went along, I finished my drink and brought the napkin up to wipe my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what I thought appeared to be writing on it. I brought it directly into my line of vision and discovered that there was a note penned on one side. Cley, it said, it is easier to break an egg from inside out than from outside in. If you want to find out more, come this evening at eight to the Earth Worm at the western side of town. P. D.

I crumpled the napkin up and remembered to throw it in the trash can outside the ministry before entering. As I rode up in the elevator, I wondered if the message had really been from Pierce Deemer or if it was a ruse to flush me out. To make the appointment would be very chancy, especially in light of the recent explosions, but it was an opportunity I couldn't let pass.

As I strode down the hallway to the office, I was disappointed to see that it had been the head of Arden that had succumbed to the Master's strange affliction. He stood there with his mirror, posing the same as ever, only now his body ended at the shoulders. The sight of it brought back to me a memory of Mantakis and his wife, and the last thing I thought before entering the Master's office was the sight of them clutching each other in a pool of blood in the lobby of the Hotel de Skree.

The ministers stood before the Master's desk in a semicircle. Seeing me enter, Winsome Graves, Minister of Security, said, “I thought this meeting was only for ministers.”

“Shut up,” Below said to him.

“Excuse my tardiness,” I said to the Master, and he merely nodded to me and told me to take a position with the others.

He looked more worn and ragged than ever as he sat there in his chair. “We have a crisis on our hands, gentlemen. No doubt you know all about the explosions that ripped my City apart last night.”

They all nodded.

“We have a conspiracy on our hands,” said Below. “I want action on this. I want to see the culprits' heads brought before me by this time tomorrow morning, or you are all going to be out of a position in the worst way. Do you understand?”

They all nodded.

“Minister Graves,” he said, “step forward.”

Graves straightened up in military style and came forward, saluting the Master.

Below opened his desk drawer and pulled out a pistol. He hardly aimed before squeezing off a shot. Graves fell like a cut tree, straight onto the carpet, his face obliterated by the shot. Blood covered the jackets of the ministers standing next to him.

“One of you a day,” said the Master, “until this thing is settled.”

I noticed a yellow puddle forming beneath the new Minister of the Arts. The others were visibly shaken. They nodded and yessed and hailed to the realm. Then they stood there staring at Below who stared back.

“Get going,” he yelled, and fired the pistol into the ceiling. “Take that piece of dung with you and drop him off at the dump,” he said, motioning to Graves's corpse.

The bureaucracy of the Well-Built City had never moved so swiftly. As soon as they were gone, he told me to pull up a chair. I did, trying to position it away from the gore that remained.

“I heard about the explosions, Master,” I said. “Who do you suspect?”

“I know exactly who it was, Cley,” he said, putting the pistol back in the drawer.

“But who?” I asked.

“It's me,” he said. “I was up all night with headaches that were like seizures. I'm telling you, whatever has gotten inside me from that fruit has some kind of consciousness. It is determined to destroy my City. From my bedroom window I have a view of most of the skyline. I began to get one of the attacks, and then, in my mind, I saw a building I had lovingly designed so many years ago. The next thing I knew, my eyes were forced shut from the severity of the pain, and I heard an explosion. When the episode passed, I opened my eyes and could see outside that the building I had pictured was in ruins with flames leaping from the rubble. I won't even mention the damage I did to my own residence. My personal servant is a million flecks of flesh right now, spread across the ballroom of my palace.”

“Is there any hope of a cure?” I asked.

“My researchers are working on something derived from the leaves of the tree growing where I planted the seeds of the fruit. It has just begun to sprout, and we hope the sap might counteract the effects of the fruit. I am still a day away from having my hands on that serum,” he said.

“Why did you tell them it was a conspiracy?” I asked.

“What was I going to tell them? The Master is systematically destroying the city?” he asked.

I nodded.

“It's killing me, Cley,” he said. “I can feel it inside me, plotting my demise. Here, in my veins, is where the conspiracy is.” He shook his head in what appeared to be genuine sadness. “You know, there was a room in the Ministry of Security—perhaps you remember it—whose ceiling was made of tin embossed with the image of a pelican. That design was a mnemonic device for remembering the face of my sister, who died when I was ten. Now, after last night, I can no longer see her. That room has also been destroyed in the City behind my eyes.”

Just then, he was flung back in the chair with another of the attacks. He grasped his head and cried out, “Here it comes. To the window, Cley. The Ministry of Education. They're going to take it in the rear entrance.” His words turned into a prolonged groan.

I watched from the window as the back of the building he had mentioned suddenly turned into a pillar of smoke, shards of crystal, blocks of coral went flying into the air and rained down onto the streets below. In addition, I could hear blue spire heads popping down the hallway, and a bookcase just to my left cracked and splintered, the volumes falling in an avalanche to the floor.

I turned back to the Master, who was now drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. “I'm all right now,” he said weakly. “Fix me a syringe, would you?”

I prepared a dose of the beauty for him. He took it and shoved it into the vein in his left temple. As he pulled the needle out, he breathed a sigh of relief. “My lovely beauty,” he said. “It's the only thing that does any good against the pain.”

“What more can I do?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just had to tell someone who would care. Keep your ears and eyes open for me, Cley. This is a dangerous time with me so under the weather.”

“You can count on me,” I told him.

I didn't hand out any appointment cards that day. I knew I was going to have to act within the next day or else there might be nothing left of any of us. The streets were in turmoil, rescue workers heading toward the Ministry of Education and citizens fleeing in the other direction. Soldiers were trying to keep the peace by aiming their flamethrowers at unruly crowds who were threatening to crush one another in human stampedes. I went back to my apartment, took a needle myself, and lay in bed, thinking. Somewhere amid the long dream of the beauty, I heard another explosion and stumbled out of bed to look out the window. The Academy of Physiognomy was on fire. I smiled and lay back down for a while more.

As soon as the night came, I got up and dressed. The streets were quiet now, though the smell of smoke was still in the air. I took the same route on which I had led Calloo to the western side of town. The Earth Worm was a dirty little place I remembered from my student days. Not that I ever visited it, but I knew many who did. I kept to the shadows and stayed off the main thoroughfares as much as possible.

A few blocks away from the place, I thought I heard someone following me. I looked back but saw nothing. With the whereabouts of the demon unknown—whether he was alive or dead—I was somewhat scared, not having my trusty derringer with me. I quickened my pace and did not turn around anymore, though I still thought I heard the sound of someone tailing me at a distance.

The Earth Worm was a small ramshackle establishment. There wasn't much light inside, only candles on a few of the tables and one glowing sign for Pelic Bay hanging over the mirror behind the bar. Three patrons sat together, drinking quietly in front of it, leaning against the splintered wood. The bartender dozed on a stool in the corner beneath an advertisement for Schrimley's. Over in the back, through the shadows, I saw Deemer's white hair. He was sitting at the last table, bent over a glass of wine.

I approached and took a seat in front of him. He did not look up. I cleared my throat to get his attention, but he didn't move. I thought that he had fallen asleep waiting for me, and leaned over and touched his shoulder. Then I noticed the bullet hole in his shirt, half-hidden by his topcoat. At almost the same instant, I saw my derringer sitting on the table, next to his glass of wine. Behind me the three stools were scraping across the floor as the men stood.

I turned around and there were two soldiers holding rifles aimed at my heart. The Master stood between them, making the sign of the O with his middle finger and thumb.

“They've been fishing some strange items out of the containment pool over at the waterworks lately, Cley,” he said. “In addition to that derringer, they also found a topcoat that looked very familiar to me.”

“I can explain,” I said.

He held up his hand. “I trusted you, Cley. I let you get close to me, and you betrayed me just like the rest of them. When the gun and coat were brought to my attention, I began inquiring as to your whereabouts. It seemed you had paid a visit to the engineer last night, so my men and I paid him a visit this afternoon. My head verily destroyed his study, but not before we found revolutionary writings. I had his whole family executed on the spot.”

I looked over at the bar and realized that the bartender was also dead. “You can kill me,” I said, “but at least I'll die knowing that you and the City won't be far behind.”

“No more vacations to Doralice for you,” he said. “I think we'll just inflate your head.”

“Was it just the derringer?” I asked. “Or were you on to me from the beginning?”

“I found it rather peculiar that you never inquired about the girl. I didn't want to believe that you were hiding something, but when they came to me with the topcoat and gun today, I knew,” he said. “What was your plan?”

“I wasn't after you,” I told him. “I just wanted to free the girl.”

“A shame. Take him outside,” he said to the soldiers.

They came and each took me by an arm. As we started for the door, Below clutched at his head. I thought he was about to have another headache, but then it seemed to pass and we continued.

Out on the street, there was a coach waiting. “To the execution chamber,” Below called to the driver. The soldiers took me to the coach and one of them opened the door. As it swung back on its hinges, something shot out and hit him in the face so hard his grip was torn from my arm by the force of it. The other soldier brought up his weapon, and as he did I hit the ground to get out of the way of his shot. He managed to get off one round into the coach, but as he aimed to fire again, Calloo, or something like Calloo but badly burned and popping springs, lunged out at him and grabbed him around the throat and snapped it as easily as he had taken off the demon's horn. In that same instant, Below was pulling a pistol from his belt. But Calloo's massive fist was faster, hitting him right in the face and sending him to the ground.