I knew at once it was the Necrcinoinicon.
DR. Armitage fixed me with an intent but friendly eye.
"Now, young Hodgkins, the first thing I want to say is that you may speak freely before Dr. Lapham and myself. We have a very good idea of your problem, and why it is so urgent that you consult the Necronomicon, and you need not be shy about discussing such matters in front of us. Neither of us will laugh at you ... God knows, we are both horribly familiar with these matters. This concerns the Great Old Ones, does it not? In particular, Zoth-Ommog, the son of great Cthulhu, whose jadeite image poor mad Copeland fetched back from Ponape—"
"How in the world did you know?” I blurted in astonishment. Armitage grinned, and Dr. Lapham leaned over to touch my arm.
"Mr. Hodgkins, I assure you that both Armitage and I have a deplorable taste for the more sensational newspapers—not that Stephenson Blaine’s story has not found its way even into the staid columns of the Boston Globe—and the Arkham Advertiser, our local paper, as well. I am ‘sitting in' on this conference because Armitage knows I have made a private study of the Cthulhu pantheon for many years, and may well have something of merit to contribute. Your problem is, we deduce from the pages of the Necronomicon your inquiry informed us you wish to study, the problem of safely destroying the Ponape figurine. If is indeed a serious problem, and you should feel free to speak openly on the subject.''
“Yes,” Dr. Armitage nodded. “We have here at the library perhaps the greatest collection of books and documents regarding the Cthulhu mythology that exists in the entire world—probably the finest and most comprehensive collection ever compiled. Beside old Alhazred, we have Prinn and von Junzt, the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Norman French version of the Book of Eibon, the Celaeno Fragments, Cultes des Goules, both the R'lyeh Text and the Dhol Chants, the Hsan, the Cabala of Saboth and the Egyptian Black Rites, Porta, Remigius, a manuscript copy of Wintcrs-Hall's translation of The Sussex Manuscript, a few pages of the Invocation to Dagon, and other works as well. Needless to say, more than a few members of the faculty have studied this literature over the years. Indeed, until he disappeared under rather mysterious circumstances back in 1915, one of our fellow faculty members. Dr. Laban Shrewsbury of the Philosophy Department, enjoyed a reputation as perhaps the greatest living authority on the Cthulhu myth cycle. Among the other books, our collection includes his authoritative study, An Investigation into the Myth Patterns of Latter-day Primitives, with Especial Reference to the R’lyeh Text, which the University Press first issued in 1913. A great pity Shrewsbury isn’t here; his advice on your problem would be invaluable!"
Dr. Seneca Lapham expressed his agreement. “However, between Armitage and myself, we can undoubtedly be of some help. Now, I don’t exactly know how much of the literature of the mythology you have studied, young fellow, but I can assure you that if the Ponape figurine is, after all, one of the images brought down from the stars as would seem likely, then the problem of safely disposing of it is a serious one. As the Necronomicon will tell you, those likenesses of the Great Old Ones which were not made on this Earth are very dangerous to meddle with, potentially lethal, in fact. The surviving cults which worship the Old Ones can summon their Masters to manifest themselves physically on this plane by means of certain rituals performed before such images; the peril to human civilization such manifestations entail should be obvious. Luckily, the physical manifestations of the Old Ones on this plane are of temporary duration, with the exception of Nyarlathotep the Crawling Chaos—”
Armitage interrupted at this point, complaining that we were wasting valuable time in fruitless discussion. “The important question we must decide is how the figurine can best be destroyed," he said impatiently. “Let us concentrate on that. Now, one method that comes to mind is to invoke the aid of an opposing entity—perhaps you know the Comte d'Erlette’s classification system, Mr. Hodgkins, which sorts the various Old Ones into four groups identified with the four elements of the Medieval mystics? Well, according to this system, certain of the entities are fundamentally in opposition to certain of their brethren, and their aid may be invoked against the manifestations of their rivals. Cthugha, for instance, as a fire elemental, has been successfully invoked against such earth elementals as Shub-Niggurath, Nyogtha, Tsathoggua, and even Nyarlathotep. By this process of reasoning, the air elementals, such as Hastur or Ithaqua, may be invoked against sea elementals, like your Zorh-Ommog. A possibility exists in this—”
Dr. Lapham nodded. “I agree; moreover, Hastur is rather ambiguous in his dealings with men, and has never seemed overtly hostile to them. However, why don’t we permit this young man to peruse the Necronomicon at his leisure; the star-stone exorcism Alhazred recommends may after all be the best answer to his problem."
"Very well,” Armitage said. He tapped the large, leather-bound volume on the desk before him. "Knowing your stay here was to be of brief duration, I removed the Necrwomicon from the Rare Book Room the first thing this morning. I have inserted a marker at the passage you were interested in, young man, and a second marker indicates a relevant entry you should examine. Now. please make yourself at home—you’ll find pen and ink and paper right there on the desk, if you wish to take notes—Lapham and I will be back in an hour or so to continue this discussion. Oh, the text is in 17th-century Latin, and is printed in German black-letter ... I hope that will not offer you any difficulties? Excellent, excellent! Well, just make yourself at home, then; come along, Lapham."
The door closed behind them, and I was alone with the famous Necronomicon at last.
VI.
THE heavy old book was bound in thick black leather, much cracked and flaking with age. It was sealed with hinges and a lock of rust-eaten iron, in the manner of books printed in Europe during the 17th century. I opened it gingerly, and was appalled at the noxious miasma of decay that arose to my nostrils from the withered, stained, and yellowed pages; nevertheless, I had come too far to hesitate now. Mastering the involuntary spasm of nausea that welled up in me as I breathed in the almost palpable reek of corruption that arose from the ancient and moldering tome, I pored over the thickly printed pages.
The translator, I knew, had been the Danish scholar Olaus Wormius, born in Jutland and subsequently famed for his Greek and Latin studies. He had from some unknown source obtained a copy of the rare Greek translation of the Necronomicon, which the Byzantine scholar Theodoras Philetas had secretly made from the original Arabic about A.D. 950. The text Wormius had used for his own Latin version was, in all likelihood, that of the original Constantinople edition later banned by the Patriarch Michael. The Wormius translation had itself only been published twice, the first printing having been a black-letter edition published in Germany around the year 1400, the second being the Spanish edition of 1622.