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Authors: Avram Davidson
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god?” More than this, the name conveyed nothing to him, because he had been in his studio trying to finish an assignment the while that Rob Macauley had been telling Sarah all about the image in the cave (and/or tunnel) under the Sacred Mountain. But Macauley didn’t mind, and he gave his account all over again. Jacob was impressed.
“Sounds as nice as what we saw last night was nasty…. But how are they connected?”
Over the cheerful clatter of mixing bowls Mac said, “I don’t know for sure that they are connected. I just think that they may be. Have you seen the cavalry troop in town? No? Guess you must not have been out of the house yesterday at all, then. Well, it seems to be a fact that the government has decided to remove the Tlaloc to the big new Museum of … what’s the whole handle? … mmm … The Museum of National Antiquities and Patrimonial Treasures (how’s that for grandiloquence? — not that they haven’t got a lot to be grandiloquent about!) … yes…. Down in ‘Mexico.’ So the cavalry is sort of here as advance guard to stake out the scene until the moving men arrive.
“The C.O. is a figure in the classical style, tall and leathery and trim mustache, you know. Colonel Benito Alvarez Diaz, and mind your manners, too. I didn’t know why they were here, and I said to him, jovially — why not? — ‘Ah,
coronel
, are you here for the feria?’ Wow! Hey? Guess what hit the fan? I got a fierce little, quick little, stiff little lecture on the fact that the United Mexican States constitute a secular republic. Emphasis:
secular
. And that, in addition, he,
Coronel
Benito Alvarez Diaz, is an educated man and a freemason and — I’m quoting — and that as educated man and a freemason he does not fear and indeed, defies all superstition, whether Christian or pagan! Hey?”
“Well may you say, ‘Hey.’”
Macauley said more. He said that he thought that the army unit was there to give notice that the government intended to stand for no nonsense, either from good churchmen lay or religious who might not like any poking around in the Monte Sagrado, or from good (or, as the case might be) bad pagans who might and probably would in one way or another object to the removal of a Tlaloc which had been there, so to speak, forever.
“But it won’t do them any good. Lopez Matteos wants it down there in ‘Mexico’ where the tourists can see it and the antiquarians study it, and you can bet your ass that’s where it’s going to go. To wit, Mexico. And the poor dumb bastards in the boondocks can dance all they want to and complain that if it’s moved there won’t be any rain again…. It won’t do them a bit of good. I just hope,” he added, “that those poor dumbos, some of whom, mind you, are my (ha ha) best friends, don’t engage in any transference of hostilities….” His manner was thoughtful.
“What do you mean?”
A shrug. “Oh…. Anybody who isn’t from right around here is a foreigner. You’re a foreigner, President Lopez Matteos is a foreigner, every savant or non-savant who’s ever come here to look at Tlaloc is a foreigner, and, of course, needless to say that Colonel Diaz who’s here to start taking away precious potent sacred rainiferous Tlaloc is a foreigner. In other words, to a mind very untutored, which is most minds, all foreigners are linked together in an evil intent — hey? — and design. So — ”
“A la mesa, a la mesa, hombre,”
Lenita directed. “Here are tortillas and refried beans for those who eat the Lord God’s food, here is
dulce
of quince and fresh honey, coffee cooked in the aluminum
maquinita
, pure butter of cows, and here is also — look, look — ¡
que linda!
— los pancakes norteamericanos which Roberto has so successfully taught me how to make — ”
Sarah, beaming, licking her fingers, said to Jacob, “Isn’t it
good?
Doesn’t it smell yummy? What is she saying, the tootsie?”
Jacob held out his cup for coffee and his
“Sounds as nice as what we saw last night was nasty…. But how are they connected?”
Over the cheerful clatter of mixing bowls Mac said, “I don’t know for sure that they are connected. I just think that they may be. Have you seen the cavalry troop in town? No? Guess you must not have been out of the house yesterday at all, then. Well, it seems to be a fact that the government has decided to remove the Tlaloc to the big new Museum of … what’s the whole handle? … mmm … The Museum of National Antiquities and Patrimonial Treasures (how’s that for grandiloquence? — not that they haven’t got a lot to be grandiloquent about!) … yes…. Down in ‘Mexico.’ So the cavalry is sort of here as advance guard to stake out the scene until the moving men arrive.
“The C.O. is a figure in the classical style, tall and leathery and trim mustache, you know. Colonel Benito Alvarez Diaz, and mind your manners, too. I didn’t know why they were here, and I said to him, jovially — why not? — ‘Ah,
coronel
, are you here for the feria?’ Wow! Hey? Guess what hit the fan? I got a fierce little, quick little, stiff little lecture on the fact that the United Mexican States constitute a secular republic. Emphasis:
secular
. And that, in addition, he,
Coronel
Benito Alvarez Diaz, is an educated man and a freemason and — I’m quoting — and that as educated man and a freemason he does not fear and indeed, defies all superstition, whether Christian or pagan! Hey?”
“Well may you say, ‘Hey.’”
Macauley said more. He said that he thought that the army unit was there to give notice that the government intended to stand for no nonsense, either from good churchmen lay or religious who might not like any poking around in the Monte Sagrado, or from good (or, as the case might be) bad pagans who might and probably would in one way or another object to the removal of a Tlaloc which had been there, so to speak, forever.
“But it won’t do them any good. Lopez Matteos wants it down there in ‘Mexico’ where the tourists can see it and the antiquarians study it, and you can bet your ass that’s where it’s going to go. To wit, Mexico. And the poor dumb bastards in the boondocks can dance all they want to and complain that if it’s moved there won’t be any rain again…. It won’t do them a bit of good. I just hope,” he added, “that those poor dumbos, some of whom, mind you, are my (ha ha) best friends, don’t engage in any transference of hostilities….” His manner was thoughtful.
“What do you mean?”
A shrug. “Oh…. Anybody who isn’t from right around here is a foreigner. You’re a foreigner, President Lopez Matteos is a foreigner, every savant or non-savant who’s ever come here to look at Tlaloc is a foreigner, and, of course, needless to say that Colonel Diaz who’s here to start taking away precious potent sacred rainiferous Tlaloc is a foreigner. In other words, to a mind very untutored, which is most minds, all foreigners are linked together in an evil intent — hey? — and design. So — ”
“A la mesa, a la mesa, hombre,”
Lenita directed. “Here are tortillas and refried beans for those who eat the Lord God’s food, here is
dulce
of quince and fresh honey, coffee cooked in the aluminum
maquinita
, pure butter of cows, and here is also — look, look — ¡
que linda!
— los pancakes norteamericanos which Roberto has so successfully taught me how to make — ”
Sarah, beaming, licking her fingers, said to Jacob, “Isn’t it
good?
Doesn’t it smell yummy? What is she saying, the tootsie?”
Jacob held out his cup for coffee and his
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