“Clearly I survived the fall,” he said. “A small miracle in itself. But I was paralyzed from the waist down.” He patted at his legs. “I have virtually no business now, but I have been frugal with my savings and so am able to carry on, as you see. Now, you have listened to a long and weighty tale, and if it has any moral, it is this: Rid yourself of that book before it brings you ill luck. Good day to you.”
Once more he began to turn his wheelchair away.
“It is my brother-,” I began, but my voice broke.
Polidori sighed. “I am very sorry to hear it,” he said sadly. “It is always the way. I have seen it many, many times. When a loved one falls desperately ill, and all else fails, any risk is worth the taking.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth.
Polidori shook his gaunt head. “The last time I took pity on such a patient, it cost the patient her life, and me nearly mine.”
“We have money-,” I said.
But Polidori raised his hand wearily. “I cannot. I will not. And if I may give you a further piece of advice, give up your search altogether. Agrippa’s recipe has never been replicated. Why? Because it is written in a strange and complex-”
“The Alphabet of the Magi,” I said. “We know.”
“Very good,” he said. “But did you also know that it has no translation? It is unreadable.”
“What about Paracelsus?” Elizabeth demanded. “ The Archidoxes of Magic?”
Polidori looked startled, impressed even. “Every edition is gone, burned,” he said with a trace of wistfulness. “Extinct! And even if it weren’t-”
From my satchel I took the volume of Paracelsus and placed it carefully before him on the counter.
In silence he stared at it with a curious expression I couldn’t quite fathom. Then it came to me. It was the way a cat beholds its prey just before the pounce. His gray eyes lifted slowly to mine.
“Where did you find this?” he asked softly.
“That is my secret.” I was afraid if he knew too much about us, he might guess my parentage and refuse to help us further. “Will you assist us?”
“Your parents, young sir, do they know of this visit?” he asked.
“No.”
Polidori glanced out to the street, as if afraid someone might be watching. He looked at all three of us, reluctant once more, but then his gaze fell back on the Paracelsus.
“Come,” he said. “Bring these books of yours into my parlor. Let us have a look at them.”
He led us into the dim room behind the counter. It too was lined with shelves, but these held books instead of vials and tins. The faded Oriental carpet was rutted with wheelchair tracks. Two armchairs and a threadbare sofa were arranged around a small hearth. There was a table that had not been entirely cleared of its last meal. He lived humbly indeed.
We were not five paces into the room when something leapt at Polidori from the shadows.
Elizabeth and I both gave a cry of surprise, and Henry shrieked outright. Polidori swiveled round in his chair to face us, and we all stared at the extraordinary creature curled up on his lap.
“That,” said Henry, his voice more highly pitched than usual, “is a very large cat!”
It was a magnificent-looking creature. Its body was lithe and long, short tailed. Its tawny coat was marked with dark spots. Beneath its neck was a ruff of white and black striped fur that looked rather like a bow tie. And from the tips of the creature’s tall triangular ears rose tufts of stiff black hair.
I looked at Elizabeth, and she returned my curious gaze.
“It isn’t by any chance,” she began uncertainly, “a-”
“A lynx, yes,” said Polidori with a smile, clearly enjoying our surprise.
“Ah,” said Henry a bit weakly.
Many wild animals inhabited the forests around our lake: bears and wolves, chamois and lynx, who could live almost at the height of the highest Alps.
“I did not know they could be trained as… pets,” I confessed.
Polidori raised an eyebrow, as if questioning my use of words. “He is quite tame. He came to me as a mere kitten and is as amiable as any house cat. Aren’t you, Krake?”
Polidori’s fingers vigorously kneaded the fur between Krake’s ears, and the lynx gave a luxuriant yawn, revealing wickedly sharp teeth. He hopped off his master’s lap and padded toward me. He gave me a sniff, and then rubbed against my legs with such force that he nearly knocked me off balance.
“He likes you, Victor,” said Henry.
“And I like Krake,” I said with forced joviality, hesitantly patting the creature on the head. He looked up at me with a green-eyed gaze that was just a touch unsettling, it was so intent. Then, to my relief, the lynx jumped back up onto Polidori’s lap.
Polidori invited us to sit down, then extended his hand. “May I?”
I passed him the volume of Paracelsus, and he took it gently. Silently he inspected the spine and binding before even opening the cover. For a long time he gazed at the portrait of the author, and then proceeded more deeply into the book’s burned pages, his careful fingers breaking off scarcely a fragment of ash.
When he came to the page that bore the beginnings of the Alphabet of the Magi, he stopped. I realized I’d been holding my breath, and exhaled noisily. Krake turned and looked at me severely.
“It is unreadable,” I said.
“We had hoped,” said Elizabeth quietly, “that you might know of some other book that holds a translation.”
Polidori shook his head. “There is none, I can assure you. But this…” He prodded delicately at the fused pages. “I think there may be some hope for this.”
“You do?” said Henry, his voice echoing the delight and surprise I felt.
“Perhaps,” he said. “I have some experience in restoring texts that have been… damaged, shall we say. Let us go to my workshop.”
I expected him to lead us back to the storefront, but he wheeled his chair in the opposite direction, through another doorway and along a short corridor. I glimpsed a tiny kitchen and, down a second short passage, a bedchamber and a small water closet, which released a faint but unpleasant whiff of sewage.
At the end of the corridor was a narrow doorway, scarcely wide enough to admit Polidori’s wheelchair. He went through first, and right away swiveled his chair around to face us. By the light of his candle I could see that he was inside a room that was really nothing but a large cupboard.
“I think we will all fit,” he said. “Come inside.”
“This is your workshop?” I asked, confused.
“This is the way to the workshop,” he said. “It is a kind of dumbwaiter. I call it an elevator. I had it constructed after my accident.”
“How ingenious,” said Elizabeth, stepping into the compartment.
“Is it… structurally sound?” Henry asked uncertainly.
“I have used it for more than a decade.”
“And it will bear all our weight?”
“Yes, young sir, it will.”
I entered the elevator, followed by Henry, and the three of us crowded around the wheelchair. The floor groaned ominously beneath my feet.
“Krake, I fear you will have to wait upstairs,” Polidori told his lynx.
Without hesitation the cat leapt from the man’s lap and sat down beyond the portal, licking his paws meditatively.
Twin doors hung at the entrance, one on either side, and Polidori pulled these snugly shut, enclosing us in the conveyance.
“From the hallway, it looks like a dead end,” he said. He passed me his candle. “If you would hold this, please.” With both hands he grasped one of the ropes that dangled from the ceiling of the elevator.
“A simple system of pulleys,” said Polidori, and as he tugged, the elevator gave a downward jerk.
Polidori’s strength must have been considerable to lower the weight of all four of us. As we descended, a dank smell wafted up to us. I glanced at Elizabeth and saw her eyes, dancing and lively in the candlelight.
