Too Many Curses (10 page)

"Oh damn," said Sir Thedeus and the sword in unison.

Nessy and the nurgax descended the stairs and started down the hall.

"Where are ye going, lass?"

"To answer the door."

"Wait for me."

He flew after her, leaving Gnick alone in the armory. The gnome polished the Sword in the Cabbage, which was already gleaming and always did so.

"Hero, huh?"

He wrapped his tiny fists around the handle.

"Sorry," said the sword. "Not even close."

Nessy rarely visited the entrance hall. There were no monsters in it, not a single accursed resident, nothing at all except for a long, worn carpet. There was also little that needed tending. Aside from the carpet, the hall was empty. Margle had never used the front doors, and he never had visitors. Nessy had used the doors once, when first applying for employment. After they'd been shut and barred, she'd never seen them opened again.

She recognized the entrance bells only because she'd rung them that first day. They'd been silent in the years since. Though she'd never been especially curious, their muted din intrigued her. During her long walk to the front hall, the bells paused for a minute or two before tolling again.

The entrance hall was a small chamber made cavernous
by its high ceiling and barrenness. Today, however it was filled with castle inhabitants, every bit as curious as Nessy. The gathering of rodents, birds, reptiles, faeries, and other odd creatures (including a ghost or two) clamored.

"Who is it? Who can it be?" asked a small, white cloud.

"It's Margle!" shouted a boa constrictor. "It's Margle, and he's come back to destroy us all! He's here for his revenge!"

"But we didn't kill him," moaned an apparition with a trembling voice. "It's not our fault."

"As if that will matter," said a hefty rat. "Wizards are defined by their disproportionate vengeance. Wouldn't be surprised if he turned the lot of us into slugs."

"I resent that," said a slug.

"Why would he be using the front door?" asked a gnat, although no one heard him.

"Being a slug isn't the worst thing you can be," said the slug.

"You're slimy and disgusting," countered the rat. "You haven't even got the dignity of a shell."

"At least I'm not diseased."

"That's a myth. It's the fleas that are diseased. Not me."

"How dare you, sir!" shouted a flea nestled on the rat's shoulder.

"Doesn't make any sense for him to be using the front door of his own castle," said the unheard gnat. "Even if he has come back from the dead."

Nessy barked a few times to collect everyone's attention. It took a moment for the assembly to fall silent.

"What are you going to do?" asked the cloud.

"I'm going to see who it is," said Nessy. "Now please be quiet."

"If it's Margle," whispered the rat, "don't let him in. I don't want to be a slug."

The slug, who'd had his fill of being insulted, stormed from the chamber as fast as his single foot could propel him. He'd already dashed half an inch.

"And even if he did use the front door," thought aloud the gnat, "I don't think he'd ring the bell. He'd probably just come right in."

Bethany the banshee keened, "Beware your footing, Nessy! You're going to trip and bruise your shin!" Her screeching voice filled the room, causing everyone to cover their ears. Those that could anyway. "Brrruiiiisseeeed shiiiiiiiiiinnnnn!"

"Thank you, Bethany. Now please be quiet."

The banshee shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Sir Thedeus clung to Nessy's shoulder. "Is answering the door such a good idea?"

"The bells have been ringing for twenty minutes. Whoever is out there isn't likely to go away. Perhaps it's just a wandering minstrel looking for a few coins. Or a traveling boot salesman."

"Aye, lass."

Neither believed that. Everyone in a thousand leagues knew to avoid this castle.

Nessy climbed upon the nurgax's back and opened the slit in the door. She found herself staring into burning red eyes. Literally: she could see the flames dancing within.

A soft woman's voice floated through the slit. "Where's Margle?"

Nessy kept her head. She didn't say the first answer that came to her, the truth, and found a half-truth, which was as close to lying as she could comfortably do without some mental preparation.

"The master is indisposed." She smiled politely. "Can I help you?"

The burning eyes and their blond brows knit in a glare. "Yes, tell your master that it is exceedingly rude to not greet an invited guest when she arrives."

"As you wish, madam." Still smiling, Nessy closed the slit.

"Did she say she was invited?" asked Sir Thedeus.

"Apparently."

"Is she lying? She has to be lying."

The accursed gathering chattered among themselves. Their noise was soon an echoing clatter.

"Quiet down, please!" shouted Nessy.

She opened the slit again.

"My apologies, madam, but the master must reschedule your visit with his sincerest regrets."

"No."

"I'm sorry, madam?"

The fire in the visitor's eyes ignited, creeping up her eyebrows with an unpleasant burning odor. "Just who does Margle think he is? I am Tiama the Scarred, premier wizardess diabolic of the Forbidden Continent. I will not be rescheduled."

"Yes, madam. Would you excuse me one moment, madam?"

She closed the slit.

"Ye can't let her in," said Sir Thedeus. "If she finds out Margle's dead, it'll be all over for us."

"She'll turn us all into slugs," moaned a spirit. "I don't want to be a slug."

"Better than a plague-bearing vermin," grumbled the slug who was now seven inches closer to his dramatic exit.

"How do we know she was invited anyway?" asked the cloud. "She could be lying."

"Yes, yes." A raven with a tendency to repeat herself agreed. "She's a liar, liar. Margle would never invite, never invite anyone."

The cloud grayed. "She wants to come inside and plunder the castle. Take us away for twisted experiments."

The gnat shouted with all his might. "If that was the case, wouldn't she just come inside? Why lie about it?" If the hall had been quiet, he might even have been heard.

"I don't see why she'd lie," said Nessy. "If she wanted in,
she'd just push her way inside. In any case, I have to let her in if she doesn't go away. If she knows Margle is dead, it won't make much difference. If she doesn't, turning her away would only make her suspicious things are out of order."

Sir Thedeus agreed. "I can see yer logic, lass. But once the witch—"

"Wizardess," corrected the gnat, but Sir Thedeus continued without pause.

"—is inside, won't she realize things are amiss then?"

This was very true, and a murmur of approval filled the hall. But to Nessy's thinking, this was a later dilemma.

In her mind, all problems were divided into three categories. There were the Present Problems, which demanded immediate attention. There were the Soon Problems, which were quick to become Present Problems unless judiciously handled. And there were the Later Problems, which were not worth worrying about because they might become Present Problems or they might become Soon Problems or, when she was fortunate, might grow into Never Problems.

Never Problems occupied an invisible fourth slot in this spectrum, but, as they were difficulties that never existed, she'd never actually defined them consciously. She was far too practical for such abstract philosophy. When a tree fell in the forest of Nessy's imagination, she didn't ponder what sounds it might or might not make. She just set about chopping it into firewood.

The bells tolled again. Tiama the Scarred wasn't leaving, and all wizards Nessy had ever met were intractable once they made up their minds. She opened the slit.

"I'm afraid the master is very busy at the moment, madam. But I've been given instructions to show you to the guest room for the evening."

The flame in the wizardess's eyes dimmed, though she still didn't look happy. "Very well."

"Excuse me, madam. I'll just need a moment."

Nessy closed the slit and turned to the menagerie. "Go on. If she sees you all here, she'll know something is wrong for sure. Tell everyone else that we have a wizardess in the castle, and to watch themselves. One slip up, and we'll all be finished."

The throng dispersed amid much concerned whispering.

"Watch your step," warned Bethany as she vanished. "Bruiiissssseeed Shiiiiiiiinnnnnnn . . ."

The front doors were tall and wide, and a heavy bar was set across them. Nessy tried to lift it, but she lacked the strength.

"I dunna know if this is such a grand idea, lass."

"It isn't, but it's the best we have." Nessy raised her hands before her and grunted the levitation incantation she'd learned last night. The bar hopped once, twice, three times before successfully falling to the floor.

"Not bad," said Sir Thedeus. "Maybe ye've a talent for magic after all."

The doors flew open, and Tiama the Scarred stepped inside. Despite her title, she was without any trace of disfigurement. So flawless as to be thoroughly featureless. Her stark white skin was taut and wrinkle-free. Her hair was so light and fine as to be practically invisible. Her lips were entirely omitted around the unforgiving slash of her mouth, and her nose was barely present upon her face. Her ears were so tiny and round, they gave Nessy the impression of sliced mushrooms. The wizardess wore a long, red robe that obliterated any trace of her figure, good or ill. She seemed a tremendous absence, an emptiness of any quality.

Except for her eyes. These were harsh and burning in every sense. The fire within revealed a blackened soul that sent shivers through Nessy. Margle had been severe, but this was even less forgiving than her master.

The nurgax growled.

"Dear gods, what a witch," whispered Sir Thedeus. He climbed into the safety of Nessy's shirt.

Tiama folded her arms. Her long sleeves fell to her elbows, showing forearms that were without beauty or blemish. She had the hands of an unfinished marionette with tight, knotted knuckles and no fingernails.

"Do you have a name, beast?"

"Nessy, madam." She bowed. "It is my pleasure and honor to serve you."

"Nessy," repeated Tiama, making the word seem a frightful insult. "Nessy, I've traveled far this day to see your
master's supposed wonders." She glanced around the chamber. "As yet, I find myself highly unimpressed."

"Yes, madam. The master sincerely apologizes for the inconvenience. But as you have traveled so far, he gladly offers you his hospitality for the night."

"Hospitality." This word too seemed appalling when spoken by Tiama.

"Yes, madam. If you'll follow me, madam, I'll show you to the guest room."

"It's an early hour yet. Does your master expect me to retire for the evening?"

"The master offers his grandest apologies." Nessy hesitated. Lying didn't come to her easily. "He is engaged in a very precarious alchemy experiment at the moment. It shall keep him occupied for the night."

"Occupied." She spat out the syllables with evident disgust. She might have been frowning too, but her mouth hardly moved, making it difficult to discern expression. "And why would Margle begin an experiment that would take all night when he knew I was coming?"

It was a reasonable question, and Nessy had no reasonable answer ready. Tiama took Nessy's hesitation as nothing more than the dreadful confusion such a simple beast must experience before a wizardess diabolic.

"You're the creature that tends this castle, are you not?"

"Yes, madam."

"Then surely, you must know your way around it." Tiama might have smiled. "You shall show me some wonders
if your master cannot be bothered by customary civility."

Again, Nessy paused. She'd been hoping to gain some time to prepare the castle for Tiama's presence. An hour or two to plan would've been helpful. But life didn't always go on a schedule. Much as Nessy disliked admitting this, she accepted it as indisputable reality. She had many important things to do: sweep a few halls, feed a few beasts, make dinner, study her magic, find The Door At The End Of The Hall, slay a hellhound, and read to the monster under her bed. And these were just the tasks that came immediately to mind.

But Tiama the Scarred was the most pressing of her concerns. So Nessy adjusted her schedule accordingly. A few halls would remain dusty. Dinner would be a little late. The Door At The End Of The Hall could stay lost a while longer. The hellhound would have another night to prowl. And the monster under her bed would just have to wait.

"Nessy, shall we begin?" asked Tiama.

"Yes, madam. Right this way." Nessy turned, slipped on a slug's slimy trail, and banged her leg against the stone floor. The wizardess expressed neither humor nor concern as Nessy got up.

"Watch your step, madam."

She dropped to all fours to take some weight off her bruised shin and led Tiama from the chamber.

The slug halted his "hurried" dash to catch his breath.
He slouched with drooping eyestalks. "I'd rather be a rat," he admitted to himself.

"Even rodents have their problems," said the gnat.

And the slug would've been comforted by these words—had he actually heard them.

Rather than waste all her time, Nessy elected to give Tiama a tour of Margle's many rare and magical beasts. This way she could feed the beasts and limit Tiama's exposure to the castle's residents. Few wandered the bestiary. It was too dangerous a place for casual visitation. And Nessy briefly hoped an accident might occur. Tiama might make a careless mistake and get herself devoured. Nessy didn't put the chances of this occurring as very high, but it was possible.

Tiama spoke little. When she did, it was only to comment vaguely. Most creatures were "interesting." Others were "curious." A precious few were "quaint." Only the grisly ghast was deemed "amusing."

"Watch your step, madam." Nessy grabbed a bucket from her cart and emptied its leafy contents into the darkened pit. "Here we have one of the master's more frightful creations: the dread saber-toothed koala."