Too Many Curses (21 page)

The underworld creature's flesh had been consumed. Only its blackened bones remained. The Sword in the Hell-Hound said, "Oh my, that was marvelous fun, wasn't it?"

"Aye."

"Never, ever," muttered Gnick.

Dozens of bells tolled. The Vampire King stepped through the thick dust. He was now transparent. "What did you do to me?"

"We freed you from being dragged to the underworld," said the sword.

"But I'm a ghost."

"Yer body was eaten," said Sir Thedeus. "Still, yer not in hell. So I would think some gratitude would be in order."

"Gratitude? I was Lord of the Undead. Now I'm just a ghost." The King snarled. "It's a demotion."

"Never, ever, never," said Gnick.

"Nessy, lass. We've done it!" Sir Thedeus considered
this victory hers as much as his. A good soldier worked best with a good general, and she had come up with the plan. "Nessy, where are ye?"

"Never, ever, ever, ever."

"Oh shut your gob. And for heaven's sakes, man, get some rest. You look as if you could use it."

Gnick nearly replied that as a silver gnome, it was his sacred responsibility to never rest until his task was done. But the ash in his throat buried the reply in coughs and sputters. He picked up a dagger coated with soot and wiped it with his sleeve. As his shirt was covered with dust, this accomplished nothing. Gnick, realizing the entire armory was like this, did something unthinkable.

He headed for his bed of straw to take a nap.

Sir Thedeus crawled along as fast as his tiny body would allow. There was no sign of Nessy, and while she was a busy girl, rarely did she leave without notice. This troubled him greatly, though he trusted she could take care of herself.

He muttered an ancient protective prayer he'd thought he'd long ago forgotten. But by then the ash had settled to the floor and caught on his tongue so that he couldn't complete it. An ill omen. He didn't believe in omens, but just to be safe, he repeated the prayer. And though the soot and dust turned to mud in his mouth, he stifled his stammers until it was finished.

Nessy possessed a sixth sense when it came to problems. There was nothing supernatural about it, merely equal parts logic and preparedness. These two traits allowed her to plan for possibilities that even she was surprised to discover she'd readied for. It was her gift: a mind that was always deciphering and formulating, even when she wasn't consciously aware of it. Without it, the castle would've fallen apart long ago.

She hadn't expected Tiama to show herself, but when the wizardess did, Nessy wasn't surprised either. And everything was in order for the protean sludge's charade. It waited (with Echo) in Margle's study. Nessy led Tiama through the castle to that very destination. Neither said a word. Tiama was such an emptiness of presence, she made no sound at all. She glided silently across the brick, and if she breathed, she did so without rustling the folds of her robe. The drafts
flowing through the halls dared not caress her either. She was like a ghost. Worse, for all the ghosts Nessy knew were anxious to prove their existence with a rattled chain or a moan or even just a slight drop in temperature. There was none of that with Tiama.

Only the click of Nessy's claws and the thumping footfalls of the nurgax were heard. But whenever Nessy glanced back, Tiama was there. She stared straight ahead, never looking at Nessy, as if she already knew where to go, as if merely allowing Nessy to play the guide.

But why was the wizardess playing? Over and over, Nessy thought of the question. Over and over, she couldn't answer it. Her mind was sharp, but it wasn't very good at deception. Lying was something one did when one didn't have any other choice. Unless one was stupid, and Tiama wasn't stupid.

Nessy paused before the study door. "This way, madam. The master is waiting."

"Waiting." Tiama said the word with a grin. Possibly.

Nessy led the wizardess inside and shut the door behind them with a soft click. The study was, for some unfathomable reason, one of the darkest chambers in the castle. Its true size was impossible to measure because the dim candlelight didn't reveal any walls. Just a desk, a chair, three very tall shelves, and nothing else. Nessy knew it was large. She'd seen Margle more than once walk into its darkness, muttering to himself. His voice would grow distant for a long time, only to rise again. He usually returned with scrolls or magic
scepters or other wizardly things. But once, he'd come back with his robe in tatters and black blood coating his hands. Whatever was in the dark, Nessy thought it best left alone.

The protean sludge sat behind the desk. The chair was turned at an awkward angle, allowing barely a glimpse of Margle's silhouette. At that moment, in that dimness, she could very easily imagine it was her old master, and if she was fooled, then perhaps Tiama might be as well.

In the darkness, Tiama's eyes shone bright red. They cast splinters of light that sliced through the study. Though she probably just imagined it, Nessy could smell the shadows burning.

She prostrated herself on the floor. "Master, your guest has arrived."

"I know that, beast. Do you think I'm blind?" Only Margle's lips moved. The words were stilted and harsh, as if the sludge disliked speaking them. It was a quality not far from the original's true cadence.

"No, master. Sorry, master."

Nessy response was a reflex. There was no need to act.

"Dog, how dare you insult me in front of a guest. I should have you ground into paste and fed to the dung drakes, only that would be too kind a fate for so pathetic a thing as you."

"My apologies, master."

"Apologies? Does the cockroach apologize to the Titan that crushes it underfoot? Does the peasant apologize to the tidal wave that razes his village?"

"No, master. Yes, master."

Margle chuckled. It was surprisingly lifelike. "Don't waste my time with such idiocy. I am not without mercy, mongrel, but you'll find that I have none for you."

Tiama spoke up. "Shall I kill this thing for you?"

"Thank you, but no. I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble."

"How very thoughtful, but the creature is too stupid to know better."

"Ignorance is no excuse. Such sins shouldn't go unpunished."

Margle made a very rude noise that might've been unintentional. "I quite agree, but whereas disrespect should be met with swift death, I believe stupidity warrants stronger penalty. It shall learn the error of its ways, and it shall never forget them."

"How shall we best discipline the beast?"

"Oh no. I couldn't bother you with such trivialities any more than I could ask you to scrub my floors. What sort of host would I be?"

"What sort indeed?" Whatever Tiama meant by the question remained unclear, for her voice was as smooth and cold as ice. "On the contrary, I do enjoy a good torture. And I've never tormented a kobold before. I've heard they're quite . . ." Her frozen voice cracked to reveal chillier depths. ". . . resilient."

Echo, to her credit, didn't stammer or stutter, though she must surely have been running out of believable excuses
as to why Margle would care if Tiama amused herself with Nessy's pain.

"I'm afraid you've heard incorrectly. They perish before any true fun can begin."

"Perhaps you simply aren't subtle enough. No slight intended, but I've found that nothing is so perishable that it can't suffer a great deal. One only needs to be creative."

This time, Margle did hesitate, and Nessy wondered if Echo had exhausted her supply of reasons. Nessy wondered also just how far she was willing to take this deception. Torture was asking a bit much.

Margle's voice took on a hard edge. The sludge had grown into an adequate actor under Echo's supervision, and it was, in some ways, more passably human than Margle had ever been.

"The dog is mine to slay or flay as I see fit."

It was a perfect end to the topic, and Tiama shrugged as if she couldn't care less. But at the same time, she was surely entertaining thoughts of taking away Margle's plaything. Wizards were like petulant children when it came to sharing their toys.

Nessy bowed deeply. "With your permission, master, I beg your leave. There are matters I must—"

"Silence, beast. You'll not escape my judgment so easily." Margle pointed to a spot by a bookshelf. "Wait until I'm ready to deal with you."

She did as she was told, petting the nurgax while she waited. Tiama spoke freely, as Nessy had expected. When not
being insulted or threatened, a lowly servant was considered beneath notice by these great and powerful wizards.

Margle rose, walked to the shelf, and pulled out a book. Simple an act though it was, it was a remarkable feat to have taught the sludge. Nessy realized how much grace was found in even a clumsy creature, and the sludge lacked that grace. There wasn't anything obviously faulty with its movements. They were simply too awkward, yet too precise at the same time. It was like watching a machine.

To her, it was obvious this wasn't Margle, but she speculated on just how soon Tiama might spot the differences. The wizardess didn't seem stupid, but even the mightiest wizardess could be surprisingly obtuse about such talents as reading body language. That sort of research rarely entered their field of study. And, of course, much of it depended on just how well Tiama knew Margle. He'd never mentioned her, but that didn't mean much. Margle had never talked to Nessy. Merely ordered and threatened.

"I trust you have enjoyed your tour," said Margle.

Tiama yawned. Her mouth formed a perfect circle. "There have been some charming . . . diversions."

Margle held the book before him as if he didn't know what to do with it. "My apologies for not being there to escort you personally. I'm afraid some unexpected business came up. You know how it is."

"Indeed I do, but Nessy has been a most courteous guide. I dare say, she might know your castle better than you."

"Perhaps." Margle smiled without humor. He turned very deliberately, paced to the chair, and sat down again. "I do hate to cut your visit short, but that business has yet to be resolved. I'm far too occupied to be a proper host. Perhaps we could schedule a continuation for another day."

"I think not. I've seen everything worth seeing." She stepped forward and put her hands on the desk. "There's little here of any worth to me. Your monsters, your fallen heroes, your little machines, they're nothing."

"Now see here . . ." But Margle's words lacked the fury to back them up.

"Oh quiet down, you pathetic thing. Did you truly think I could be duped by this novelty? Nessy, I'm deeply disappointed in you."

For a moment, Nessy considered denying that she'd tried anything. But Tiama hadn't been fooled, and Nessy didn't see any reason to continue the charade.

Echo wasn't as quick to abandon the plan.

"I would thank you to address me and not—"

Tiama put her hand on Margle's shoulder. The sludge convulsed. It contorted into a double of Tiama, shrieked an earsplitting moan, and twisted away from the wizardess's fatal touch. A sizable portion was left in Tiama's hand. It crumbled to ash, and she wiped it on her robe. The living portion of sludge fell into a yellow puddle, bubbling and steaming.

"This foolishness has gone on long enough," said Tiama. "Do you think me an imbecile?"

Nessy lowered her ears. "No, madam."

She'd known something like this would happen. But for a minute, she'd been hopeful. Margle at least took care of the castle and its inhabitants, if only because his twisted ego prized them. But Tiama had no need of them. Tragic fates could only await them.

The red in Tiama's eyes softened. "When I came to this place, I expected to find nothing of value, and I was not disappointed for the most part. This entire castle should be swallowed by the earth for all its worthlessness. But there is one thing which did impress me. Only one. But it was more than I counted upon." She clasped her hands together, lacing the fingers with methodical precision. "Do you know what that thing is, Nessy?"

"No, madam." Nessy averted her eyes.

"Look at me."

The kobold raised her head slowly, but instead of rage and disgust in Tiama's face, she saw something else. The wizardess smiled. The flames in her eyes were a gentle yellow.

"It's you, Nessy. The only thing worth having in this castle is you." She reached out as if to stroke Nessy's muzzle but pulled back. Frowning, she glanced at her fingertips. "Margle was a fool to not see what an asset you are."

"Yes, madam." Shock overtook Nessy. Never in all her career had any of her employers paid her an honest compliment. It was very unwizardly.

"I now lay claim to you as is my right," said Tiama. "I
desire nothing else from this hovel. Of course, I will still see it destroyed rather than taken by someone else."

"Yes, madam."

Echo whispered in Nessy's ear. "Oh no."

The words were so slight, Nessy barely heard them, but Tiama chuckled.

"Oh, yes, my dear. Oh yes."

"You have to do something," said Echo even softer.

"What can she do?" asked Tiama. "What can any of you do?"

"I have to warn the others," said Echo. Then she was gone. Or so Nessy assumed.

"Warn them indeed." Tiama chuckled once more, although her face remained blank. She ran her fingers across the books on the shelves. "Worthless. All of it. But there is one other thing that intrigues me." Her voice gained some life. "The Door."

"Which door, madam?"

"Don't be coy. It doesn't suit you. Margle may have believed you simple, but I know better."

"Yes, madam."

"What's behind that Door?"

"I don't know, madam."

"And were you never curious?" asked Tiama. "No, I don't suppose you would be. You're not the curious sort. All this castle's wonders around you, and you'd rather sweep the halls. But we each have our place, and that is yours. Mine is to seek knowledge, to discover those forbidden secrets that
you could live without knowing. I must know, Nessy. I must. Whatever is on the other side calls to me. And a door never opened is a senseless thing."