The Gray House

I feel sick. That’s a death sentence. I look at Janus and see him suddenly pull away from me, himself, his desk, and then the whole room, growing smaller, more and more indistinct. The walls glide past, carrying him farther and farther from me, while the pictures seem to grow and crowd me, the webs on them hanging from the ceiling to the floor in nightmarish distorted polygons. I close my eyes, but this only compounds the horror, because I start hearing voices. The barely perceptible whispers of those who got tangled in the web and perished here. Leopard. Shadow. This is a terrifying place. The worst in the whole House. It stinks of death, regardless of how well scrubbed and polished they keep it.

Someone is shaking me so hard my teeth are clattering. I see Janus’s face right in front of me. The web is gone.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t do this,” I say.

He lets me go and straightens up.

“You can’t do this.”

Janus shakes his head.

“It’s not my decision anymore. I am really sorry. What’s happening to you?”

What’s happening to me? The Sepulcher is happening to me, which is peanuts compared to what lies in store for Noble.

“My apologies. This place gets to me very badly.”

He pours water into a glass and gives it to me. I drink it out of his hands, completely forgetting about the rakes.

“This place?” he asks. “This particular place?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I think so. It’s those weird superstitions of yours. Are you completely sure you’re not sick?”

I don’t answer. There is no one here who can be completely sure about it. If anybody, a Spider should know this. Janus looks down and bites his lip. He is terminally curious. I don’t have to wait long for the questions to start. He takes cigarettes out of the drawer and I realize that there might be more questions than I thought. Jan sits down on the edge of the desk.

“Where does this angst come from?” he asks. “Why? I see it too often to just dismiss it out of hand. When people start breaking out in a cold sweat in this very office . . .” He looks around, as if making sure that this is indeed still his office. “I’d like to know the reasons for it. I could understand if this were only happening to you. I‘d just refer you to a specialist and that would be the end of the problem.” He puffs on his cigarette, observing me closely. “You can answer or not, it’s your choice.”

“I’ll answer. But I don’t think my answer, such as it is, will satisfy you. This is a bad place. For every one of us. There are good places and bad places here. This one is bad. How it became this way is a long story.”

Janus patiently waits for me to continue.

“And since you’re not going to let me see Noble anyway . . .”

His forehead breaks out into a concertina of ripples.

“Are you trying to bargain?” he asks incredulously. “With me?”

“Yes, I am. Just so you know, I wrote a scholarly article once exactly on the topic that interests you, so I’m quite competent to discuss it. A long article complete with references to the classics and an inventive title, ‘Sepulcher: Outside or Inside Us.’ This, as you might have guessed, is me talking up my side. I understand it is common when bargaining.”

Janus looks at me with such sincere amazement that I almost laugh out loud.

“You’ve lost me,” he says. “What article? Where?”

“Just an article. In a magazine with a circulation of ten copies.”

He exhales, relieved.

“Oh. I get it. It’s your own magazine. What’s it about?”

“Everything. It comes out twice a year, so we’re never short of topics. The authors hide behind unrecognizable pen names, and everyone writes about whatever is of interest to him. I wrote about the Sepulcher, and the next issue featured a very lively discussion in the letters to the editor. Those might be even more useful to you than the article itself.”

Janus nods. “We’re haggling over two issues. A yearly subscription. It’s a pig in a poke. Two pigs.”

“In exchange for one visit to one dragon. I think that’s fair.”

“Nothing doing,” Janus says, clearly disappointed. “That would mean me abandoning my principles. Indulging my own petty curiosity. I’d be ashamed of myself afterward.”

“Your call.”

I sigh with relief, even though he did refuse. It’s good that he did. I didn’t really want him reading my creation. It revealed too much. Almost as much as Leopard’s drawings. I steal a glance at them and look away. It wouldn’t do to go down for the count again. I transfer my attention to Janus, do my best to keep my eyes on him. He looks around in an exaggerated manner, trying to see something that he wouldn’t be able to, no matter what. Then stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray.

“You look terrible,” he says. “Go get some sleep, grab something to eat, calm down, and then come back.”

He sounds irritated. My nightmares are getting on his nerves. They must be visible to the naked eye by now.

“Go,” Janus repeats. “We’re all tired. There are no classes tomorrow. I might let you see him then.”