The Devil Is Dead - R. A. Lafferty, ebook, CALIBRE SFF 1970s, Temp 2
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THE DEVIL IS DEADby R. A. LaffertyThis is the first publication of THE DEVIL IS DEAD in any form.AVON BOOKSA division ofThe Hearst Corporation959 Eighth AvenueNew York, New York 10019Copyright 1971 by R. A. Lafferty.Published by arrangement with the author.All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Virginia Kidd, Literary Agent, Box 278, Milford, Penna. 18337.First Avon Printing, May, 1971PromantiaChapter 1 Seaworthy and the DevilChapter 2 Mermaid and OgressChapter 3 The Furtive ManChapter 4 The Wives of SindbadChapter 5 The Unaccountable CorpseChapter 6 Luluway is the Plural of DiamondChapter 7 Habib, I Have Found SomethingChapter 8 Anastasia DemetriadesChapter 9 Diana ArtemisChapter 10 Down With the Dead MenChapter 11 Thirty-Six Thousand Pieces of PaperChapter 12 Crest and ShatterChapter 13 Biloxi BrannaganChapter 14 Company of FiftyChapter 15 Basse-TerreChapter 16 Liars' ParadiseChapter 17 Angela CosquinChapter 18 Fin in the GraveyardChapter 19 The Devil Is DeadPROMANTIAAnd they also tell the storyof Papadiabolous the Devil and his company, and of two of the hidden lives of Finnegan; and how it is not always serious to die, the first time it happens.Here is one man who was buried twice and now lies still (but uneasy of mind) in his two separate graves. Here is another man who died twice--not at all the same thing. And here are several who are disinclined to stay dead: they don't like it, they won't accept it.Given here, for the first time anywhere, are the bearings and correct location of the Terrestrial Paradise down to the last second of longitude. You may follow them. You may go there.Here also will be found the full account of where the Devil himself is buried, and the surprising name that is on his tombstone boldly spelled out. And much else.We will not lie to you. This is a do-it-yourself thriller or nightmare. Its present order is only the way it comes in the box. Arrange it as you will.Set off the devils and the monsters, the wonderful beauties and the foul murderers, the ships and the oceans of middle space, the corpses and the revenants, set them off in whatever apposition you wish. Glance quickly to discover whether you have not the mark on your own left wrist, barely under the skin. Build with these colored blocks your own dramas of love and death and degradation. Learn the true topography: the monstrous and wonderful archetypes are not inside you, not in your own unconsciousness; you are inside them, trapped, and howling to get out.Build things with this as with an old structo set. Here is the Devil Himself with his several faces. Here is an ogress, and a mermaid, both of them passing as ordinary women to the sightless. Here is a body which you yourself may bury in the sand. Here is the mark of the false octopus that has either seven or nine tentacles. Here is the shock when the very dead man that you helped bury continues on his way as a very live man, and looks at you as though he knows something that you do not. Here is a suitcase with 36,000 pieces of very special paper in it. Here is Mr. X, and a left-footed killer who follows and follows. Here are those of a different flesh; and may you yourself not be of that different flesh?Put the nightmare together. If you do not wake up screaming, you have not put it together well.Old Burton urged his subscribers to keep their copies of the Nights under lock and key. There are such precipices here! Take it in full health and do not look down as you go. If you look down you will fall and be lost forever.Is that not an odd introduction? I don't understand it at all.Chapter OneSEAWORTHY AND THE DEVILIn fact, give a Neanderthal man a shave and a haircut,dress him in well-fitted clothes, and he could probablywalk down New York's Fifth Avenue without gettingmuch notice.--ASIMOV1.Finnegan met the eccentric millionaire early one morning. At least he said that he was a millionaire and eccentric. Finnegan told him that he was dull."You only believe me dull because you don't know me well," the millionaire said. "I am one of the true eccentrics. Stick with me and you will see that I am."Finnegan doubted also that the man was a millionaire. He was unshaven and shabby, and he had the shakes. A millionaire will sometimes have one or two of these disabilities, but seldom all three.The conversation may have begun when Finnegan asked what town they were in."The license plates are mostly Texas," said the man. "That is, you can see only one license plate from here, but it's mostly Texas."They were sitting on the sidewalk in front of a bar waiting for it to open. They were across the boulevard from the graveyard. The millionaire had a scar or tattoo on the inside of his left wrist, and Finnegan looked at it."You have the same mark," said the man. "I wouldn't have trusted you otherwise.""No. I haven't that mark," Finnegan objected."It is still below the skin, but I can see it," the millionaire said. "Say, it's chilly for Texas. I wonder what month this is.""I would guess either spring or fall," Finnegan hazarded. "Probably fall. I remember a summer not long ago. But I am usually in the North when fall hits. Then I have to migrate, often at great pain. You really are a millionaire?""Oh yes. As soon as the bar opens we can have a drink. Then we will be well enough to look for other bars and have other drinks. After that we can make plans. By that time I should remember my own name, and you may remember yours. Possibly we will be well enough to look for a bank, and as the day goes along they will be open. When I am in funds I will buy you a pair of shoes.""If you don't know what town this is, how do you know that you have money in the bank?" Finnegan asked him."I am known," the man said. "I even begin to know myself again now.""Which of us was sitting on the sidewalk first?" Finnegan asked him. "Or which came first, the sidewalk or the people?""I don't know. I don't remember how I got here. We were already here and in conversation when I became aware. Your shoes are very bad and your feet have been bleeding. I have compassion on you.""You are in near as bad a shape," said Finnegan."It is different with me. I have always the means of succor. It is just that I am preoccupied when I forget to get a place to sleep, or when I do not eat, or change clothes. When I have been guilty of such a shattering drunkenness as this, I usually have something heavy on my mind. Is the clay and loam of this place not peculiar? It is mixed with sand and old oyster shells. We are both caked with it, you know. We should brush off a little."Finnegan looked deeply into the man's face, as he had not done before. It was dull, but there was a bottomless depth to that dullness and Finnegan knew that a deeper word would be needed to describe it. It was a lined face made out of old granite. The millionaire was a much older man than Finnegan."My cognomen is Finnegan," Finnegan said finally. "I do not yet remember my proper name, but it will not matter; I use it seldom. This amnesia is not new to me. I often have it when I move from one life to another. I have an upper and a lower life, you know.""Who hasn't! All of our sort indulge in amnesia, of course. With you it is almost as though you do not know what you are. All of us changelings arrive at the understanding late. Finnegan, this is a seaport, it has the atmosphere of one. That being the case, I have some sort of ship here. We will fit it, if it needs fitting, and we will take a trip around the world immediately. I have often found that this clears the head. Will this not prove that I am an eccentric?""No. It will prove only that you remember what you were about. Do you remember your name yet, millionaire, or where we are?""Saxon X. Seaworthy is my name. I was pretty sure it would be. Yes, I remember everything now, and there is one thing that I forget again quickly."Well, Finnegan didn't. He didn't remember the pre-dawn adventure, the fearful thing he had been engaged in with Seaworthy before they came to themselves sitting on the sidewalk. The forgetfulness of this event antedated itself considerably; Finnegan realized that there was a gap of several months in his memory before that climax which he could still savor but not remember. 'All of our sort indulge in amnesia,' Seaworthy had said. 'It is an indulgence I had better give up,' Finnegan told himself. But be didn't really want to remember the recent adventure: it had too garish and unnatural a savor.The barroom opened. Saxon and Finnegan went in and drank beer, Texas beer only, nothing else was cold. And Saxon was angry."There should be a punishment to fit the crime," he said. "We did but ask a drink in the name of Christ and you gave us this. It were better in that hour, it were better in that hour--""What were better in that hour, little granite face?" the bargirl asked."For less than this they did penance in Ninevah. God will punish you for this, young lady.""Bet He don't. Some of the places handle beer from the states, but I don't know why they bother. Drink it, Mr. Seaworthy. We will calk you up with it and see if you will float. Bet you don't. What have you two been doing to get so bloody and dirty?""We don't remember," said Finnegan. "Really, we don't remember." He wanted to ask the girl how she knew Seaworthy's name and how well she knew both of them.An hour went by. The club opened...
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