“They are the shapes formed by the starless spaces between the bright constellations. The uninitiated cannot see them and believe they do not exist, but once pointed out they cannot be forgotten. They are emblematic of the mysteries anyone can master but few realize exist.
“Crow poked about among the teeth with the tip of his beak. I’d offer you a maggot, he said, but there are barely enough here for me. One last question. Who is the Black Beast?
“What do you mean? I said angrily. I asked you that same question, and you wouldn’t answer me. I don’t believe in your Black Beast at all.
“Crow threw his head back then and screamed in triumph. Those beady little eyes were dark novae of malice. He spread out thumb and forefinger and said, you are that long erect. Your mistress was once involved in the Committee for the Liberation of Information, and only her mother’s money hushed up the scandal. You suspect she is unfaithful to you because she says nothing of your own infidelities. You wet the bed long into your adolescence — you wound up apprenticed to your pharmacienne after she cured your bladder problem. The Black Beast has told me all about you. The Black Beast is someone very near to you. You trust the Black Beast, but you should not. The Beast is not your friend but mine.
“And he walked away. I shouted after him that our duel was not over, that there had been no clear winner. But he was gone. I told my parents he had been called away.”
Dr. Orphelin sighed. “Gregorian disappeared from my life. Perhaps he transferred to another extension. But I could not get his question out of my mind. Who was the Black Beast? What false friend had told Gregorian my secrets? One morning I woke to find a drawing of a crow in flight tacked up on the wall. I awoke my mistress, pointed to it. What is that? I demanded.
“A picture of a bird, she said.
“What does it mean?
“It’s just a picture, she said. You never objected to it before. She put a hand on my arm. I knocked it away. It wasn’t there yesterday. I said. She was baffled and began to cry. Are you the Black Beast? I asked her. Are you?
“I could not read that sleek face of hers. That complex and all but noseless plane whose geometries I would trace by the hour with finger, tongue, and eye, now seemed a mask to me. What could lie behind it? I set her various traps. I asked her sudden questions. I accused her of impossibilities.
“She left me.
“But the Black Beast did not. I was expelled from Laputa for dueling. I came home to find a stuffed crow on the center of the dinner table. A big, jeering thing, with wings outspread. Nobody in his right mind would put such a thing where people ate. What does this mean? I asked. My mother thought I was joking. Who put this here? I demanded. She stammered guiltily. I overturned the table, screaming, How could you do this to me?
“My father said I was raving and should apologize. I called him a senile old fool. We had a fight, and I split open his head.
He had to go all the way to Port Deposit for treatment. My parents disowned me, and sued to remove my patronymic. I had to take on a new name.
“Who was the Black Beast? I was obsessed. I had lost my family; now I gave up my friends. Better to live alone than with a traitor at my back. Still, the Black Beast taunted me. I would wake up to find my chest covered with black feathers. Or I would receive a letter from Gregorian telling me things no one could know. I had dreams. Strangers passing through told painful stories from my childhood, secrets from my affairs.
“It was maddening.
“There came a day when my isolation was complete, my life shattered, my ambition gone. I lived alone in a hut by the salt marshes. Still the Black Beast left his sign. I would return from gathering herbs to find the word ‘crow’ scrawled above my bed. I would hear the cries of crows in the middle of the night. Mocking laughter followed me down the street. Finally I was driven to contemplate killing myself, just to get it over with. I held the knife to my heart and carefully judged the angle of thrust.
“Then the door opened — it should have been locked, but it opened anyway — and Gregorian stood before me. He grinned down at my fear, all teeth and malice, and said, Surrender.
“So I bowed down to him. He took me to a star-shaped room in the Puzzle Palace with a vaulted ceiling where five great wooden beams came together, and between them was blue plaster with gilt stars. There, he copied from me what herb lore I held — it was all he valued of what I knew — and cut away the bulk of my emotions, leaving me little more than the gray capacity for regret. And when I was no conceivable rival to him anymore, I asked the question, the one that had ruined my life: Who was the Black Beast?
“He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
“You are, he said.”
With sudden energy Orphelin stood and snapped shut his bag. “My diagnosis is that you were given three drops of tincture of angelroot. It is an intensive hallucinogen that leaves the user open to spiritual influences at the height of its action, but has no serious aftereffects. You’re experiencing a touch of vitamin depletion. Have Mother Le Marie cook up a plate of yams and you’ll be fine.”
“Wait! Are you saying that Gregorian tapped your agent in the Puzzle Palace?” It was rare, but it happened, the bureaucrat knew. “Was that the forfeit when you lost to him in suicide?”
“You would believe that, of course,” Orphelin said. “I know your type. Your eyes were closed long ago.” He opened the door, unmuffling screams from the room across the hall.
Mother Le Marie stood just outside, back to them, staring through the door at a badly bruised woman lying unconscious on the floor. On the screen a door opened, and a figure entered. Mother Le Marie gaped. “Now there’s a character I never thought they would actually show.”
“What, you mean the mermaid?”
“No, no, the offworlder. Look — Miriam’s had a miscarriage, and he’s arrived too late. But he’s put the child in biostasis, and now he’s taking it to the Upper World to be healed and brought to term. It’s going to live forever now. You can bet the offworlder’s going to give his bastard that ray treatment.”
“That’s nonsense. Immortality? The technology simply doesn’t exist.”
“Not down here it doesn’t.”
The bureaucrat felt a thrill of horror. She believes this, he thought. They all do. They actually believe that the knowledge exists to keep them alive forever and that it’s being withheld from them.
Orphelin took a pamphlet from a coat pocket. “I advise that you read this and think seriously about its implications.”
The bureaucrat accepted it, looked at the title. The Anti-Man. Curious, he opened it at random and read: “All affections and bonds of the will are reduced to two, namely aversion and desire, or hatred and love. Yet hatred itself is reduced to love, whence it follows that the will’s only bond is Eros.” Odd. He flipped to the credit page:
A. Gregorian
Angrily, he crushed the pamphlet in his hand. “Gregorian sent you to me! Why? What does he want of me?”
“Would you believe it?” Orphelin said. “I have not seen Gregorian from that day onward. Yet I constantly find myself doing his work. A magician does not send messages, you know — he orchestrates reality. I do not enjoy being forced into his games, and I cannot tell you what he wants of you because I do not know. One thing I do know, however: You have a Black Beast of your own. The two people who were here, the ones who held me? One of them gave you the drug last night.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Suicide is a stupid game, isn’t it?” Orphelin said. “I thought I was good at it, but Gregorian was better.”
He left.
Mother Le Marie watched him go. Behind her, the bureaucrat could see the autopsy machine, silent now that it had done analyzing Undine’s arm. The sun had shifted and left it in shadow.