Castle for Rent (7 page)

Deems' image began to waver. Incarnadine made a few quick hand passes to correct the interference.

“What's wrong? Are you breaking off?"

“No,” Incarnadine said. “If you remember, the Arts are somewhat of an iffy proposition in this world. I'm still working the bugs out of some new methods. Complicating things is the fact that the energy potential between the various universes has shifted over time. I'm still dealing with the implications of that."

“Ah, yes, I do seem to remember there was a very good reason why I didn't like New York and its provinces. No magic at all. Which made it an unacceptable alternative to Perilous, which fairly oozes with the damnable stuff."

“You never took to the Arts in a big way. Did you, Deems?"

“Never cared for hocus-pocus,” Deems said with a shake of his head. “Never wanted any part of it. Makes me nervous."

“Although you need it occasionally."

“Occasionally,” Deems conceded. “As do we all.” He rubbed his belly and sighed.

“You've put on weight, elder brother."

Deems laughed. “Tell me something I don't know, little brother. I eat too much and drink even more. The Arts I'll have none of; the Vices, every one.” He laughed heartily again, revealing large white teeth. When he was done he said, “What are you up to, Inky?"

“Something's going on at Perilous, I don't quite know what. I suspect meddling. If that's the case, I haven't a clue as to who's the guilty party."

“What sort of meddling?"

“A few of the spells sealing off some of the more troublesome aspects are completely gone. It could be that they deteriorated and simply fizzled out. It could also be that someone canceled them."

“And you suspected ... whom?"

“Trent, first off. One of the reasons I came here. I've been trying to detect evidence of major magical activity in this universe. So far the data are inconclusive. If Trent is responsible, however, he may have taken great pains to cover his tracks."

Deems nodded. “And you suspect me?"

“Brother, you're at the bottom of the suspect list. Everyone knows you could have had the throne, but turned it down. Why then would you conspire now to take the throne from me?"

“I know of no reason,” Deems said flatly.

“Nor do I."

There was a pause before Deems asked, “Then why this communication?"

“I wondered if you had any ideas. If you'd heard anything."

“From who?"

“Ferne, for one. Have you seen her recently?"

“I haven't seen Ferne in a god's age."

Incarnadine nodded. “And Trent has never communicated with you in all this time?"

“I would have told you, just out of courtesy,” Deems said.

“Just making sure, Deems. Trent says he wants to be left alone, and I have no reason yet not to take him at his word. But all the same, I have to be sure."

“I can assure you that I am not in league with our little brother Trent."

“I didn't say you were, Deems. In fact, I said I wanted your help."

“I'll do anything I can."

“Thank you. Ferne always liked Albion. Would you cast about and see if you can locate her there?"

“I'd be happy to, though I doubt she's here."

“Nevertheless, if you find her, please tell her I wish to see her."

“I will,” Deems said. “Anything else?"

“Do you have enough Art to attempt calling Trent from your world?"

“No, I doubt it."

“Then, are you up for a short trip home?"

“Not exactly, but I will come if you insist."

“Then do, and be my guest. When you are here, use the Universal Projector to call him and sound him out. Tell me what you think. I need a second opinion, a second reading, if you will."

“Very well. I hope I can remember the spell that works that old contraption of Dad's. I haven't used it in years."

“Go to the library and look it up. Osmirik, the new librarian, will help you."

“It will be good to be back at Perilous again. I could use a change of scene.” Deems scratched his black beard. “But won't Trent instantly suspect you put me up to it? I mean, calling him out of the blue, after so many years?"

“He may. I think he most probably will think I put you up to it. In fact, you can tell him I did. I want everything to be aboveboard, for now."

“As you wish. Do you suspect everyone? Dorcas as well?"

“Hardly Dorcas."

“Well, that more or less leaves Ferne, Trent, and me—and you say I'm out of the running."

“Ferne and Trent. Yes. They might be in it together. I find that not improbable. They always got along well together. In fact, Trent was the only one of us who was at all close to Ferne."

“It would seem a simple case, then, with only three possible solutions. It's either Ferne alone, or Trent alone, or both together."

“Or someone else entirely."

Deems scowled. “Who?"

“An outside force or agent of some sort."

Deems pursed his lips and looked pensive. “Hm. I suppose it's possible. Castle Perilous has never lacked for enemies."

“True."

“But see here. What's the game? What does this unknown conspirator mean to accomplish by opening up dangerous aspects and letting the boogeymen out?"

“The unknown may have struck some bargain with these boogeymen. They invade me castle in return for spoils he has promised."

“Which he can't deliver, unless he knows something I don't,” Deems said sourly. “Out of 144,000 worlds, there isn't a single damn one that has any easy money in it. And I include the one you're in at the moment."

Incarnadine gave a chuckle. “Don't you remember all the time we spent panning for gold in Hyperborea, back when we were kids?"

“With not a penny to show for it."

“Now, I remember making enough to buy a very small sailboat,” Incarnadine said. “A ten-foot sloop, as I recall. I think me thing may still be lying in a dusty corner of the castle somewhere. I used to take it out on Lake Asmodeus, in the Helvian aspect. I also have a memory of you buying yourself a silver-handled Almedian scimitar with the paydirt you gleaned."

Deems grunted. “I don't remember. It was a long time ago."

“Yes, it was."

“Tell me this, Inky. What could Trent have been doing, isolated in a blind universe all those years?” Deems' brow furrowed. “The thought occurs to me that
you
are now isolated in a blind universe. How the devil are you going to get back from there?"

“I'm going to do my damnedest to summon the gateway from this side and set up a more or less permanent link to Perilous. From a Manhattan apartment."

“Wasn't that where it was originally?"

“Yes. The site was not this specific apartment, but you remember the general location correctly. As to your first question about Trent—he says he hasn't, but I suspect he has been developing new magic on this side. He may have a way of summoning the gateway, using it, then letting it wander free again until he needs it. He may have had access to Castle Perilous all these years."

“Why has he waited all this time to make his move?"

“He may have been aiding Melydia. I rather doubt that, as Melydia was a major-league sorcerer herself, but she may have needed help at the interuniverse level."

“That is an interesting surmise."

“A wild guess. Perhaps Trent is patient. Or perhaps he's just recently perfected his techniques."

Deems folded his arms and looked dubious. “You really don't have much to go on, do you?"

“Frankly, no. That's why I was hoping you would help. When you return from Perilous, I want you to give me a rundown on what's happening there in my absence. Ask Tyrone, the captain of the Guard, to give you a report. Tell him I sent you."

“If he believes me.” Deems squinted one eye.

“He will. Before I left I told him to expect you."

“I was going to ask why you can't call Tyrone yourself, but now I see you simply want to verify my trip to Perilous.” Deems' eyes twinkled. “You've been planning moves in advance."

“As necessary in life as in chess."

“Inky, I'll always defer to your chessmanship. How you outmaneuvered Melydia—that horror of a woman!—I'll never know."

“Luck played its part—along with clean living, proper outlook, eating three squares a day, and so forth."

Chuckling, Deems said, “And regular exercise—no doubt."

“When can you leave for Perilous?"

Deems shrugged. “Today, if you wish. I have nothing pressing."

“Good. Call me again in, say, two days."

“Very well. Anything else?"

“Not at the moment. Good seeing you again, brother."

“Same here, old boy. But if you don't mind—” Deems stood and reached out both arms toward the screen. The image jerked and the angle of view shifted until Deems' face was in close-up. “I'm going to forgo the refined pleasures of having a mirror by the bed. I don't really care to be surprised in quite that way again. There are plenty of other looking-glasses about the palace."

“My apologies."

“So, if it's all the same to you—"

Deems carried the mirror through high mullioned doors and into open air. “Goodbye, Incarnadine.” Deems held the mirror out at arm's length, then let it drop.

The mirror turned slowly as it fell. The twisting perspective showed Deems standing on a balustrade high on the outside wall of the palace. He was looking down, smiling and waving. His image quickly shrank, sliding off to one side as the mirror turned to face the uprising ground. Briefly a tilted vista of the green and beautiful Albion countryside revealed itself until the screen of the CRT went black.

 

 

 

Keep—Queen's Dining Hall

 

Sheila took another sip of coffee. She felt a little better now. There were people here who seemed to be in the same boat she was in—lost and stranded in a crazy place without knowing how or why. It felt good to talk to them and find out more about what the heck was going on here. None of what she was hearing made any sense, but at least everyone seemed to acknowledge that it
didn't
make any sense. She could deal with that. Not with everything not making sense, but with the fact that no one seemed concerned that it didn't.

Yes, she felt a little better, now that she had some proper clothes to wear. She had declined the usual quasi-medieval costume that everyone here pranced around in, opting instead for jeans, a blouse, and a good pair of running shoes. She'd been told that it was wise to be quick on your feet in Castle Perilous. She was determined to be as quick as possible.

The dining hall was almost full. Apparently it was a holiday in this world, and the castle servants (it was sometimes hard to tell the servants from the Guests, except that the servants had a sort of English accent) had set a festive table laden with dish after colorful and elaborate dish.

Everybody was digging in, so Sheila did, too.

“Anybody know what the occasion is?” Gene asked.

“Something akin to our winter solstice, I think,” M. DuQuesne said.

“I guess most worlds have solstices and equinoxes and all that stuff,” Gene said.

“My world doesn't,” the creature called Snowclaw growled. (It seemed to growl all the time.) “Course, I wouldn't know what an eekinocks was if it came up and kicked me in the butt."

Sheila couldn't get over how she could understand everything the white-furred, white-clawed creature said. In fact, it sounded a little like Uncle Walt, Mom's brother. Uncle Walt growled a lot, too.

Despite her fear, she found the creature to be very friendly. She just couldn't bring herself to look into its fierce yellow eyes.

She helped herself to a slice of roast suckling pig, then spooned out samples of a few of the side dishes. Everything had been delicious so far.

“Snowclaw, your world has to have an equinox,” Gene insisted.

“How do you know?” Snowclaw scoffed. “You've never been there."

“Does it have a sun?"

“Well, of course."

“Then it has equinoxes and solstices. What I'm talking about is ... well, really it's the relationship of a sun to a planet that revolves about it. You see, when a planet's axis of rotation is tilted somewhat to the plane of its orbit, what happens is that—"

“What's a planet?"

“Uh, a planet. It's a world. You know, a big spherical lump of dirt that spins around."

“Spins around what?"

“Turns. Rotates."

“Where?"

Gene blinked. “What do you mean, ‘Where'? Out in space, of course. Look, when a planet spins on its axis, it—"

“What's space?"

Gene took a long drink from his beer stein. “Forget it."

“Anything you say, pal,” Snowclaw said amiably.

M. DuQuesne said, “Snowclaw, does your world have a warm season and a cold season?"

“Sure does."

“Is the sun a little lower in the sky in the cold season?"

“It's a lot lower."

“Then, when the sun is at its lowest point during the cold season, and the days are very short, that's the winter solstice. When it's at its highest point in the sky during the warm season, and the days are long, that's the summer solstice. The equinoxes are in between, in spring and autumn, when night and day are about equally long."

“Oh. Well, sure, everybody knows that! Thanks."

Everyone looked at Gene. He shrugged. “Okay, so I'm not Isaac Asimov."

A man called Thaxton said, “Who's for tennis today?"

Another, older man who called himself Cleve Dalton said, “Thax old boy, you ask that every damn day, and I can't recall that anyone's ever taken you up on it. Where the devil are the courts, anyway?"

“Well, they're through an aspect just a little down the hall to the right. I suspect they're not really tennis courts per se. I mean, there are nets and such, but they actually seem to be—"

There came shouts from out in the hallway, and the sound of running feet. A man, one of the servants, came running through the main entrance looking frightened to death. He ran past the table and shouted, “They're coming! Run for your lives!” He sprinted to the kitchen entrance, threw the door open, and dashed through.