The Watchtower

interest to your generation is the use of mercury to treat the Italian disease.”
    “The Italian disease?”
    “You may be more familiar with it under its most recent name, of growing popularity in London: syphilis. Galen could not cure what he had never heard of. In any event I am off to Audierne in the far west of Brittany, where the great John Dee has offered me the protection of his scientific reputation, to serve the populace to their benefit and not that of clerks who collect fees the way beetles collect dung.”
    Will kept his unease at the mention of Dee’s name to himself. A mere coincidence no doubt, facilitated by the man’s far-flung fame, yet … curiosity got the best of him. “Do you know Sir Dee?”
    “We have corresponded through intermediaries. John Dee supports the cause of the most scientific medicine and alchemy possible, whatever the local prejudices or greed opposing them. He is a general in the war for health and truth. I am but a private, if a particularly distinguished one. Happy to serve.”
    Russwurin was looking directly at Will now, with a glitter in his eyes that Will found unnerving. He glanced away and could suddenly feel the coach slowing down, could hear the driver calling to the horses to halt. They were pulling over on the right side of the road, where the woods were even deeper and thicker than on the other side. A rosy moon was now full over the horizon, showering tinted light as if a fine rain of blood were falling. All coincidence, no doubt, but Will found it downright creepy that they were pulling over unexpectedly and his lone fellow passenger had had recent dealings with, was on a mission certified by, John Dee. The driver, who had silently dismounted, surprised Will and Russwurin at the window facing the woods. He shouted that he was taking a break to relieve himself and moved into the trees with a great crackling of twigs and shunting aside of branches.
    Twenty minutes later, the driver had not returned, and Will and Russwurin were both pacing anxiously up and down the road near the carriage. It seemed pointless, Will thought, to suggest going in the woods to look for the driver: he could have gone off in multiple directions, and if someone or something had caused him misfortune on his humble errand, there was no reason to think that entity couldn’t cause Will and Russwurin misfortune, too. But Will did wonder which of them might be the first to bring up another delicate question: were either of them willing to drive the coach onward now so they could both go forth with their business? Certainly the carriage and its horses could be restored to the owner at some further time and destination, and certainly the driver’s troubles might better be a problem for the local authorities by now.
    The wind remained brisk, the sky was clouding over, and Will thought he could hear thunder at a considerable distance. He hoped it wasn’t the roar of some far-off and unfathomable beast!
    Just then he heard a rustling from the underbrush as if the driver might be returning. Unsure whether he was going to embrace him or reprimand him for his excursion, Will drifted over into the narrow space between carriage and woods, followed by Russwurin. Will was curious at a minimum to see the expression on this insolent man’s face. But then he was shocked by the sight of tiny bolts of light zigzagging about twenty feet away from him down a slight slope. It was like a miniature exhibition of slash. And then it all pinwheeled up the slope toward him, and Will was aghast to see Lightning Hands spill up to the crest of the road, wearing a white cape, white trousers, and white shoes, all emblazoned with gold bolts. Lightning Hands came toward Will to greet him as though he were an old friend, right hand extended, but then Will noted an ivory palm pistol in the hand pointed at him. Then he felt something sharp pierce his left shoulder. As he pitched forward after this numbing blow, he could see, just within the field of his left eye, Russwurin holding a giant needle. At the same moment Lightning Hands, grinning, was approaching him and reaching for his golden branch with his left hand. That was all could remember.
    *   *   *
    Will came groggily awake in the underbrush at the edge of the road around dawn the next morning. He felt a dull ache in his left shoulder, but otherwise he seemed none the worse for wear as he rolled over, tried out his limbs in order, and got to his feet. The