“How do you figure, mate?"
Kwip grabbed at the sparkling sapphire ring. When the lanky sailor held it out of reach over his head, grinning, Kwip let him have a boot in the groin. The sailor went down and Kwip had his ring back. The encircling crowd voiced its disapproval, hissing and booing.
“To the devil with all of you,” Kwip snarled as he ran off, the bulky sack of recovered booty rattling against his back.
First endless musicians, then big cats, then gladiators, and now this. He'd nearly lost his life to the cats—that last pair had chased him down six flights of stairs—but Kwip almost preferred them to this horde of sticky-fingered scavengers.
Through a chink in the rush he spied a gold chalice lying on the stone floor of the corridor; but he wasn't quick enough. Before he could reach it, the thing got kicked. It skittered down the hall and ended up being punted into a side passage.
Hefting the overstuffed sack, Kwip pushed and shoved his way after it, but the press got ever greater. Someone stepped on his toe and he yelped. Then someone trod on his heels; he let loose a punch to the kidney in answer. The man on the receiving end collapsed against his neighbor, who in turn tripped up two unfortunate passers-by, who ... and so forth. This domino effect generated a minor tussle, which Kwip struggled to get away from.
At a safe distance, he resumed the pursuit. Drat. Now he'd lost sight of the chalice. He stooped and peered among the hosts of stamping feet, and for his trouble got goosed up the backside. He clouted the nearest suspect, who was in fact completely innocent; but no matter. Kwip ducked the retaliatory blow, which landed on another bystander, who became justly aggrieved—and in no time a major brawl broke out between a construction gang and some gentlemen in leather vests and odd helmets.
Kwip couldn't slip away from this quarrel. A giant of a man came at him and he had to resort to whacking the brute with the sack, which promptly split open.
A cascade of baubles and bangles splashed to the floor: bracelets, anklets, earrings, and chains; pins, brooches, chatelaines, torques. Out gushed gems and precious stones of every sort and value: diamonds, emeralds, agate, and heliotrope, onyx and amethyst, all clattering and tinkling and skittering into every nook and corner.
There ensued a mad scramble for the scattered treasure. Fist fights broke out all over. Shouts and curses. Fingers gouged at eyeballs, knees found their way to sensitive parts. Elbows jabbed into solar plexuses.
At length Kwip crawled out of the swirling maelstrom. He got to his feet, saw a swinging door, and fled through it.
He found himself on a wide landing between stairways with a high Palladian window, overlooking courtyards far below, set into the far wall. Amazing to behold, there was no traffic on the stairs. Kwip sat himself down on the stone window seat and burst into tears.
All his swag, gone. How many years’ work? Half a dozen, at least. Piles of pretty gewgaws, heaps of fancy trinkets, gold, silver, and platinum gimcracks. All lovely little bijous, and all irretrievably lost. Washed away like sand castles with the rising tide.
Castles! He never wanted to see the inside of another castle as long as he lived. He would get himself out of this insane place once and for all. He would choose a likely looking aspect, one of tidy villages peopled by sturdy upright middle-class stock, prosperous burghers, every man, woman, and child. And he'd steal them blind and live at his ease and be happy forevermore.
He let loose a great despairing sigh. Gods. No, truth to tell, he'd probably stay here. Stealing was work, and Kwip had never cared much for work. Which was why he stole in the first place. In the past few years he'd slacked off something awful. He liked to steal, he loved his profession, but when there was no real need for it...
Ah, well.
The door on the landing burst open. Kwip looked up and was puzzled when no one came through. The door eased shut. He shrugged and went back to brooding.
“Kwip."
Kwip was startled to hear a disembodied voice at his side.
He jumped to his feet and searched about, yet still saw no one.
It is I, Osmirik.
Kwip said warily, “Where are you?"
In front of you. One moment.
Kwip was astounded when Osmirik materialized before his eyes.
“Sorcery, is it?” Kwip asked.
“Of a low sort,” Osmirik said. “With it I avoided the sword fights, but these teeming multitudes make passage through the castle impossible.” He cast glances up and down the stairwell. “Seems to be thin in here."
“Aye. But I hear rumblings below."
Osmirik listened. Sounds of mounting feet drifted up from the depths of the stairwell. His shoulders fell.
“The way is by no means clear,” he said.
“By no means,” Kwip agreed. “But then, why descend to the lower floors? Thence come all our troubles, me-thinks."
“True, but I must get to the source, which, I have surmised, may be a certain hidden storeroom in the crypt."
“Think you?"
“Indeed. I may be able to abrogate the spell, or at least inform the king so that he may do so."
“Aye, good. But getting there's the rub."
“True."
Osmirik sat and thought.
Lord Peter Thaxton came running down the stairs and skidded to a stop on sight of the two dispirited men.
Thaxton was breathing hard. “What gives?"
“Nary a thing,” Kwip said. “I've just lost my life's fortune."
“Just lost my best friend,” Thaxton said.
Osmirik was about to ask who, but realized it could only be one man. “My condolences. How came it about?"
“Details later, please,” Thaxton said as he sat down heavily. “Must get my second wind."
“We are essaying to find a way to the lower keep,” Osmirik said.
“Me, too,” Thaxton said. “If there's a chance he may be alive, I've got to get to him."
“I see."
“Besides, I've got to alert the Guards, all that,” Thaxton said, then bent over and put his head between his knees. “Sorry, bit dizzy."
“Rest awhile, my friend,” Osmirik bade him. “Meantime, I shall think."
“Bloody hell,” Thaxton said, for no particular reason.
“Aye.” Kwip concurred in this sentiment.
“Bloody awful,” Thaxton said. “Nasty business."
Kwip nodded in baleful agreement. “Aye, it is."
Thaxton lifted his head. “You saw it, then?"
“I was there,” Kwip said.
“You were? I didn't see you."
Kwip came out of his wistful reverie. “Pardon? What say you?"
“I said, if you were there, I certainly didn't see you. Whereabouts—?"
“I've got it!” Osmirik shouted, jumping to his feet.
“What's that?” Thaxton said.
“The way down. Help me open these casements."
Thaxton and Kwip exchanged doubtful looks, but assisted Osmirik in unlatching the windows and swinging them open. Outside was a narrow ledge. Osmirik stepped up onto it.
“Just what do you have in mind?” Thaxton wanted to know.
“We shall jump."
Thaxton looked at Kwip, then at Osmirik. He turned away, reaching back to massage the nape of his neck. “Everyone's gone balmy,” he muttered.
Kwip scowled at the Royal Librarian. “Ye gods, man, have you lost your senses? Or is this more sorcery?"
“None of my doing. You do know that the castle is tricked out with many spells?"
Kwip snorted. “Hardly a revelation."
“But did you know that there is a spell, a series of them, which can catch a man if he fall from a great height?"
“You're daft."
“Hardly. No one can fall to his death from Perilous as long as these spells are efficaciously operative."
Thaxton, at first dumbfounded, managed to say, “Good God, man. Are you quite serious?"
“As long as the spells are work
ing. We can jump safely to the ground and—"
“Wait just a moment,” Thaxton said as he bounded up to the ledge. “If a man fell off the highest part of the castle, from the highest parapet, are you telling me that there's a chance he could survive?"
“Why, yes,” Osmirik said. “If the spell on that part of the castle were still effectively running. One such spell cannot cover the whole castle, and they do fail now and then—"
"But is there a chance he might survive such a fall?"
“Why, yes, that's exactly what I am saying, Lord Peter. And we have that same chance. If we can but screw our courage to the sticking point—"
“Ta ta!” Thaxton said happily as he jumped from the ledge.
“Gods!"
Osmirik watched him drop. Astonished, Kwip leaned out of the window and witnessed with him. Neither could quite believe his eyes.
“Why ... it works,” Osmirik said in awe.
“I'll be buggered six ways from Whitsuntide."
“Well,” Osmirik said. “We shall meet below. I hope."
Osmirik jumped.
Kwip watched again. He still could not fathom it.
“I do believe something strange is going on here,” said a voice behind him. Kwip whirled about.
And there stood a giant rabbit. The thing was about seventeen hands tall from its huge feet to the tips of its long ears. The fur was a bright hot pink where not covered by a morning coat and ascot, pinstriped pants, and spats. No shoes. The rabbit was smoking a meerschaum pipe.
“So,” the rabbit said, puffing philosophically. “Doing a little Zen skydiving, eh?"
Kwip's eyes widened to saucer-size. He turned and dove out the window.
Another World
The Sidewise Voyager plunged, if not earthward, then other-worldward.
As calmly as possible, Melanie asked, “Uh, Jeremy? Is there anything we can do?"
“Well, we can always go back into non-space,” Jeremy said.
Sitting on Jeremy's lap, Isis shook her head.
“O’ course,” Jeremy went on, “that's no solution. We can't stay there indefinitely. But with no antigrav we can't land anywhere to fix anything. So we're kinda stuck."
Melanie looked through the view port. The ground was coming up frighteningly fast.
“Uh, maybe we'd better do something, like, soon?"
“But if we spend any more time in non-space,” Jeremy said, “the ship's hull will take a beating. It can only handle so much stress. What we should do is maybe try a shuffle."
“A shuffle?"
Isis said, “We send the craft on a tangential course, touching each universe in succession but not really entering except for the briefest nanosecond. But that presents another problem."
“Yeah, we get even loster that way,” Jeremy said.
“Well, technically that's not true,” Isis said. “Without a functioning nav system, we're lost, period. It's just that we could shuffle forever, trying to luck into the castle's universe."
Melanie watched as the ground raced upward at an alarming rate. She said, “Uh, people, I suggest we do something, anything, right now."
Jeremy said, “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He reached and flipped a switch.
The view port went completely blank. Outside was nothing but an indeterminate grayness. Non-space; nothingness; nowhere.
Melanie let out a sigh of relief.
“I guess we can stay in non-space long enough to set up a shuffle,” Jeremy said. “If we should want to do one."
“Definitely not,” Isis said.
“You don't think so?"
“No. We should try to jury-rig a software patch."
“Yeah? How?"
“We use the schematics on board to simulate a nav unit."
Jeremy brightened. “Hey, that's an idea. But how do we calibrate it?"
“By using the readings that are in the storage buffer."
“Might work,” Jeremy said. “Might work. But ... hmmm."
“Objections?"
“Well, the time factor, for one."
“Good point,” Isis said. “But I have a plan. We shuffle until we find an empty universe or one with no planetary masses nearby. We'll be in zero-g, but we can manage."
Jeremy shook his head. “I dunno. First of all ... wait a minute. Doesn't this ship always drop in near a planetary mass because it sniffs out big masses in non-space first?"
“Exactly. So we'll have to override."
“Boy, that'll take even more time."
“Certainly. But we have no choice. Of course, we have the option of dropping in and out of non-space."
“That's too risky, and besides we can't do much with the ship systems when we need ‘em to fly."
“True again."
“But I don't like—” Jeremy glanced at the control panel. “Oops, better get back into normal space before we get squished."
“Squished?” Melanie said.
Jeremy looked at her. “Yeah, the pressure could flatten us like an aluminum beer can."
The sky—or another one—appeared again, and again the ship began to nose over and dive for the ground. To Melanie the experience was beginning to seem like being trapped on an endless roller coaster ride. Her stomach did a flip-flop.
Jeremy and Isis debated again while the ship dove. Melanie waited as long as she could stand it, then shouted a warning. Jeremy responded, sending the ship back into non-space. Jeremy and his “assistant” then carried on the technical discussion until it became time to dump back into normal space. And the horrifying cycle began over again.
Melanie couldn't bear it.
“Jeremy,” she said. “Do something."
“Huh?"
“Do something. Get us back home. I don't care how you do it."
“Hey, we're trying, Melanie."
“You're not trying hard enough. If this up and down stuff goes on any longer, I'm going to puke all over the compartment."
“Don't get it on the controls, please!"
“Jeremy, it's going to go all over the place. I'm sick, Jeremy. It's coming up. I can feel it."
Jeremy made a face. “Oh, God, please don't. I can't stand it when that happens. Makes me wanna puke, too."
“Then do something, Jeremy. You're supposed to be a genius."
“Wait, I have an idea,” Isis said. “Jeremy, you were taking readings on the location of the magical disturbance shortly before you took the ship out, weren't you?"
“Yeah, why?"
“Why don't we use the ship's sensors to detect the spell from non-space? That would give us the vector parameters for home, wouldn't it?"
Jeremy snapped his fingers. “It would if you recorded the readings for me to calibrate the sensors with."
Isis smiled. “I did, Jeremy. I automatically record everything you do at the work station. The buffer has it all."
“Great! Isis, I love you."
“Jeremy, darling!"
The two embraced as the ground rushed up yet again.
Melanie screamed, “We are going to fucking crash if you people don't get on the stick!"
“Sorry!” Isis said and swiveled toward the control panel. She hit the thruster just in the nick of time. The Voyager slipped back into the temporary safety of non-space.
Melanie nearly fainted.
“One thing,” Jeremy said. “Those coordinates, the ones pinpointing the disturbance, could be anywhere in the castle. We'll materialize there. It could be a broom closet, for all we know. We have enough trouble landing in the graving dock, which is, like, huge."
“We will be cutting it very close, Jeremy dear. But if we get our entry velocity down as close to zero as we possibly can, we'll have a very good chance of making it with minimum casualties."
“That's going to take some fancy math,” Jeremy said.
“Math is our business,” Isis said brightly. “Now, dear, let's get to work. We have only forty-five seconds left before we have to dip back into normal space again."
&n
bsp; “Right. Boost your clock speed to five hundred megahertz."
“Done, dearest Jeremy."
Melanie rolled her eyes. Minimum casualties. Wonderful.
Suddenly realizing that the Gooch brothers hadn't uttered a peep in some time, Melanie looked back.
They were fast asleep.
Bay Shore
The strand was deserted. The great ships were gone, but men had left their signs everywhere. Here a sandal, there a piece of armor; elsewhere a broken blade, already painted in verdigris, a blue-green shard in the sand. There were other things: abandoned fire pits; discarded articles of clothing, sun-bleached rags. More, much more. The shore was littered with refuse.
He walked by the edge of the water, snorting and sniffing. The water smelled fishy, brackish. He climbed a dune and bent to nibble beach grass. It was salty, otherwise tasteless. There was not much to eat and he was hungry. Sand flies tickled him, and he swished his tail absently.
The day had dawned clear. There had been no men about since the night before. They were all gone. He did not miss them much.
Not at all, in fact.
But now he again heard the voices of men. He turned his maned head to look.
Two men approached. They looked not unlike the other men, but wore different dress. More colorful.
“What a beauty this one is!"
“A white stallion, like the others. Why do you think they left them?"
“Who knows? Why did they leave so suddenly?"
“We beat them off, that's why! Here now, fellow. Easy, easy."
One of them petted him. He didn't quite like that. But he let a looped rope be put over his head and around his neck.
“Easy, boy. Gods, what a horse! Spirited, but well-broken. Perfect."
“Big one. Too big for the saddle I've got."
“Oh? So, you won't mind if I take him."
“What? I saw him first."
“You just said your saddle isn't big enough."
“To hell with that. He's mine."
“Here, now. There may be others."
“Or there may not be. He's mine, I tell you."
“Shove off."
“You shove off! Oh, so it's going to be that way, eh?"
“You don't want to go up against me."
“Don't make me laugh. I'll slit you from gills to gullet before you can—"
Castle Spellbound Page 16