A Calculated Magic lm-2

by Robert Weinberg

  “Evidently, not everyone agrees with the sentiments,” whispered Cassandra, pointing to a line of graffiti scratched directly below the company motto. “The difference between heaven and bell is merely a matter of perspective.”

  “Beyond this portal,” whispered Jack, “is the guard post. Once you’ve taken care of them, we’re free to enter Paradise and find Megan. Can you handle it?”

  Cassandra grinned. “Three humans against one Amazon? Those aren’t odds, they’re a sure thing. Give me two minutes. Since I’m not carrying any weapons, I want to be positive that none of them are—”

  Without warning, the door to the inner chamber opened, cutting off Cassandra in midsentence. A big, husky figure, nearly seven feet tall and dressed in a black-and-gold uniform, stared at Cassandra in surprise, “What are you doing here?” he growled, in a deep bass voice. “You’re twenty minutes late.”

  Then the giant’s features knotted in bewilderment. “Wait a minute. Who the hell are you? We don’t got no tall, dark houris working here,” The guard’s eyes widened in astonishment. “And who the hell is that guy? No humans are allowed in the locker area for any reason. That’s against the rules.”

  “Rules are made to be broken, big boy,” said Cassandra, and grabbed the guard by the collar of his shirt. In one smooth, continuous motion, she jerked him forward and dropped her body to the floor. Her feet lanced up, caught the shocked sentry in the chest. Shrieking in disbelief, he flew over Cassandra’s head and crashed into the metal lockers behind them.

  “Take care of him,” she said over her shoulder as she darted into the next room. “I’ve got to stop the other two before they set off the alarm.”

  Jack whirled. Amazingly, the guard was climbing to his feet, shaking his head more in surprise than in pain. Obviously, Hasan al-Sabbah stationed his most dependable servants at the entrance to Paradise. Grimly, Jack noted the giant had no aura. He was supernatural in origin.

  “What the heck is he?” he muttered to himself, forgetting the two invisible ravens sitting on his shoulders.

  “A ghul,” said Mongo, calmly. “We’ve encountered several of their kind during our wanderings. Powerful brutes, they eat human flesh. They have incredibly alert senses that enable them to hunt unwary travelers in the desert.”

  “Spare me the lecture,” said Jack, backing up to the wall. The ghul was looking straight at him, its eyes the color of glowing coals. The monster grinned in anticipation, displaying a mouthful of yellow fangs. A dribble of saliva ran down its jaw as it took a giant step forward.

  “You birds remember any special weakness I can use against this monster?” Jack asked queasily.

  “Sorry,” said Mongo, “not a thing. They’re tough, really tough.”

  “You want us to slow him down a mite?” asked Hugo. “We could try the old double-beak-in-the-ears routine.”

  “Do it,” said Jack, sliding along the wall as the ghul advanced another step. “Hurry.”

  “Men can’t come in the locker room,” said the ghul, spreading open his huge arms. “The boss would be angry with us if he learned you was here. But he’s never gonna ever find out. ’Cause there won’t be any evidence left.”

  There was no mistaking what the ghul meant. Anxiously, Jack circled a nearby dressing booth. His gaze swept the counter, hunting for a weapon. Unfortunately, there wasn’t even a nail file present. The only things on the table were a half dozen atomizers filled with perfume and a powder puff.

  Desperately, Jack pushed a chair into the ghul’s path. Laughing, the giant kicked it aside. “You can’t get away from me,” the monster declared. “I can smell you a mile away.”

  “I bet you can,” replied Jack, inspiration striking. As did the two ravens.

  The ghul shrieked and slammed his hands to his ears. “That hurt!” he bellowed. Swinging his head to and fro, he hunted wildly for his invisible assailants. “That hurt my ears bad.”

  “See if you like this any better,” said Jack, pushing an atomizer as close to the giant’s nose as he dared and spraying. Suddenly, the locker room smelled like roses. Bushels and bushels of roses. It was an extremely potent perfume.

  The ghul sneezed explosively. Once, then again, and again. Jack grabbed another atomizer. “Didn’t care for that fragrance?” he asked mockingly, squeezing the trigger. A overwhelming mix of orange blossoms and hyacinths filled the air. He grabbed a third, then a fourth, and a fifth. “How about this? Or this? Or this?”

  Eyes tearing, hands waving about frantically, the ghul stumbled into the metal lockers. Its head rocked back and forth with one gigantic sneeze after another. Jack continued to empty atomizer after atomizer at the fiend. Its painful howls mixed with sneezes as it sank to the floor, trying to escape the overwhelming mixture of perfume.

  “There’s a hot plate on the third table that should perform wonders,” said Mongo in Jack’s ear, “Try knocking him on the head a few times with it.”

  Jack didn’t need to be told twice. It required eight smashes to the ghul’s skull before the creature finally collapsed unconscious. Panting, Jack dropped the metal appliance to the floor. “Thank God,” he declared. “My arms were tiring out.”

  “Smart idea, realizing the ghul’s overdeveloped sense of smell would make him vulnerable to perfume,” said Mongo. “That was quick thinking.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack. “Anybody check on Cassandra?”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?” asked the Amazon from the doorway. She caught a glimpse of the motionless ghul spread-eagled on the floor. “Sorry I left that one for you, but the other two proved to be more difficult than I expected. Ghuls are rough customers. Looks like you managed fine on your own. I told you that training in unarmed combat would pay off.”

  The Amazon’s nose wrinkled, noticing for the first time the overwhelming smell of perfume. “What happened? Did he overturn one of the tables when he fell?”

  “Not exactly,” said Jack. “I’ll explain some other time,” He shook his head, dismayed with his carelessness. “Remind me next time I make a deal with nymphs to press them a little harder for pertinent details. Alis never mentioned ghuls in her description of the guard post. She probably didn’t think it mattered.”

  Bending over, he rolled the motionless giant onto its stomach. “This goon should be out for hours, but let’s tie him up to be on the safe side,” He glanced at his watch. “Then off to rescue Megan. We’re running out of time.”

  31

  Jack’s scheme called for him to use the uniform of one of the security guards as a disguise. The notion made perfect sense until their actual run-in with the security force. Jack had never thought to explain his full plan to Alis and Candi. He now realized that had been a major mistake.

  Cassandra, walking casually beside him, her arm linked with his, stifled a giggle as he tripped over his pants for the third time. All three of the ghuls had been giants. Their pants rolled down past Jack’s shoes while their jackets stretched to his knees. In a hurry, without any sort of sewing equipment, he managed the best he could, rolling up and tucking in. But he couldn’t walk more than a dozen steps without one garment or another betraying him.

  His companions found his predicament endlessly amusing. Cassandra, forced to endure the entire weekend in garments she found degrading, took particular pleasure in gently mocking Jack’s efforts. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled along, trying not to attract attention.

  Fortunately, that didn’t prove to be very difficult. Invisible on his shoulders, the ravens provided directions through the maze of linked chambers that led to the solitary bridge across the moat of fire. Approximately half of the rooms were occupied by two or more nymphs. None of them expressed the least interest in Jack or Cassandra.

  Keeping his mind on his destination was the hard part. In keeping with the traditional trappings of Paradise, modern means of entertainment such as TVs, radios, or CD players were not allowed. Instead, the women in the chambers were forced to amuse themselves in other fashi
ons. A few played chess or checkers. Most of the rest indulged in procedures that had Jack gasping for breath and averting his eyes. There was only so much a man could bear to watch.

  “Are we almost there?” Jack muttered after staggering through a chamber occupied with six nymphs engaged in a complex act he would have sworn impossible to accomplish. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Otherwise, I might have to put on a blindfold.”

  “Two more rooms,” answered Mongo. “Do you find the sexual practices of the female of your species disturbing? Strange. Hugo and I consider their actions extremely fascinating.”

  “We view them from different perspectives,” said Jack. “Take my word for it.”

  “If you insist,” said Mongo. “Birds don’t engage in orgies. I think that is why we find them so intriguing.”

  “Just find the damned moat,” said Jack. “And cut the chatter.”

  “I was merely trying to keep you from getting nervous,” said Mongo, sounding miffed. “The entrance is through that portal.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Jack said, and pulled open the door. And found himself staring at a vision of hell.

  The center of Paradise consisted of a crater eighty feet in diameter. It was circled completely by a narrow rock rim four feet in diameter Unlike the rooms surrounding it, the crater was not covered by a roof. Instead, the stone ceiling of the cavern was visible thirty-five feet from the floor. The walls of the chambers stretched half that distance, forming a natural amphitheater. The only break in the brick surface was the door from which they had emerged.

  A sea of fiery lava bubbled and fizzed fifteen feet below the crater’s rim. Jack gasped for air. The ravens hadn’t exaggerated when they described the place. It was hot as Hades in the crater.

  Directly in the middle of the molten rock was a circular finger of stone twenty feet across. Sitting on it as a small cinder-block cottage. “That’s where the sphinx is holding Megan prisoner,” said Mongo unnecessarily. “Which is your second obstacle. The first one is sitting on the bridge over there.”

  “Over there” was thirty feet around the rim of the crater, A white marble bridge, ten feet wide, extended from the edge of the pit to the island at its center. Chained to the foot of the span by two massive chains waited Cerberus, the three-headed guardian of the gate.

  “You birds positive you know exactly what to do?” asked Jack. “One mistake and Cassandra and I are dog chow.”

  “I’m set, Johnnie,” said Mongo.

  “Me too,” answered Hugo. “Let’s do it.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Jack started walking toward the immense hound. All three heads growling faintly, the huge beast rose to its feet. Adamite steel links rustled with its every movement. Six saucer-size eyes glared at them as they approached. Jack, never a dog person, forced one foot after another. He felt as if he were walking right into the mouth of Hell. The three mouths of Hell, to be exact.

  “He won’t hinder our passage across the bridge,” said Cassandra. “The hound is trained to let people enter the infernal regions. Coming back is when we’ll experience problems. Crossing should be a snap.”

  “I know that,” said Jack. “You know that. I’m praying that the big, nasty dog knows it.”

  Step by step, they advanced until they stood directly in front of the beast. While it glared ferociously at them, the monster otherwise made no move to halt their progress.

  “Get out of my way, hound,” commanded Jack, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Dogs sensed your fear and reacted to it, he recalled someone once telling him. Act unafraid and they would step out of your path. “We want to cross the bridge.”

  Snarling in triplicate, the three-headed monster shifted position to let them pass. Gaze fastened on the cottage that was their final destination, Jack slid by the hound. It wasn’t just the heat rising from the pit making him sweat. The bridge was littered with smashed and broken bones. Human bones. According to Alis, the Old Man of the Mountain disciplined unruly followers by leaving them in Hell for a few days. Evidently, more than a few had unsuccessfully tried to escape.

  Fifteen feet beyond the beast, Jack started breathing again. They had gotten past the first obstacle. The sphinx was next. Mentally, Jack reviewed his trivia question. Though it had been years since he taught elementary calculus, he nevertheless remembered Zeno’s paradox perfectly. Some problems were too good to forget.

  The door to the building stood wide open. As they drew closer, two figures emerged. Jack’s heart leapt for joy when he spotted Megan. His girlfriend was still dressed in her red silk nightgown. She looked a bit frazzled but otherwise unharmed. Unfortunately, she was not alone. Standing next to her, watching them with suspicious eyes, was the sphinx.

  If Cerberus was a zoologist’s bad dream, then the sphinx was his worst nightmare. The monster combined body parts of human, lion, reptile, and bird into a bizarre living jigsaw puzzle. Though it possessed the head of a beautiful woman, Jack noted that when the sphinx opened its mouth to speak, it had the teeth of a lion. They worked better, he concluded grimly, when it devoured its victims.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” asked the sphinx. It spoke with a woman’s voice, but there were hints of a reptile’s hiss, a bird’s trill, and a lion’s roar in its tone. “I expected no one for another day.”

  “Plans have changed,” announced Jack. Megan, watching without much interest, stiffened in shock. She hadn’t recognized Jack or Cassandra, with their disguised features and unusual outfits, until she heard her fiancée’s voice. Her smile of relief vanished almost instantly as she looked at the sphinx, then at Jack, then again to the monster. She obviously realized that Jack had come to rescue her but had no idea how. She was about to find out.

  “I heard of no change,” said the sphinx, staring at Jack and Cassandra with undisguised hostility. “Hasan always telephones me if there is a change.”

  “Telephones you,” repeated Jack, his mind racing for a reply. “Well, the phone company is working on the lines today. The Old Man of the Mountain sent me here to get the girl. He wants her right away.”

  “Nonsense,” said the sphinx. “She stays…”

  “I’ve heard that you brag that you know the answer to nearly every question in the world,” interrupted Jack hurriedly. “I find that difficult to believe.”

  “You do?” said the sphinx, unfurling its wings. There was a nasty edge to its voice. “Why is that, human?”

  “Because my friend Zeno has been hunting the solution to his riddle for years and hasn’t been able to find it. And he’s remarkably intelligent.”

  “Zeno?” growled the sphinx. “A common Greek name associated with several ancient philosophers. Tell me this conundrum, mortal, and it better be an interesting one. I don’t take kindly to being insulted. Brag, indeed.”

  The sphinx’s display of teeth made it quite clear what she did to those who disappointed her. Jack hardly noticed. He had hooked his fish. Now it was time to reel her in. It had taken mathematicians over two thousand years to resolve Zeno’s paradox. He doubted that the sphinx could solve it in less time.

  “I’ll state the question in simple terms,” said Jack. “Achilles and a tortoise decided to have a race. The famous hero, feeling sorry for his slow-moving opponent, decides to be fair and gives the turtle a head start. But according to my friend, Zeno, this simple act of charity leads to the conclusion that no matter how fast Achilles runs, he is unable to pass the tortoise.”

  “Are you sure this question has an answer?” asked the sphinx warily. “It isn’t one of those stupid riddles about barbers and shaving?”

  “Let the Kindly Ones tear the flesh from my bones if I lie,” declared Jack solemnly. Cassandra had suggested the oath, one not given lightly, in view of recent happenings at the resort. “This question is asked and answered in high schools throughout the United States.”

  “Continue,” said the sphinx. “I’ve read plenty about the state of education in this country,” The monste
r contemplated the claws in one gigantic paw. “If your wretched students can unravel this riddle, then so can I. Ask and I will answer.”

  “Since Achilles gives the turtle a head start,” continued Jack, “he first has to reach the point where the turtle starts, which we will name A1. However, during this time, the tortoise has advanced further, to point A2. Thus, Achilles must cover the distance from Al to A2. But, while he does that, the turtle continues on to point A3. Each time Achilles crosses the distance to the next point, the turtle has inched on to yet a further point.”

  The sphinx frowned. “But Achilles must pass the turtle sooner or later.”

  “Must he?” asked Jack. “To pass the turtle, Achilles must complete an infinite number of acts in a finite amount of time. Since traversing each distance takes some time, traveling an infinity of them will take an infinite amount of time. Thus, while Achilles draws nearer and nearer to the tortoise, he never overtakes him,” He spread his arms in bewilderment. “How can such things be?”

  The sphinx scratched its head. The expression on its face was indescribable, though Jack had seen it many times before on the faces of his students. The monster was lost in a mathematical wilderness. “I need a moment or two to think things through. Give me a second.”

  “Why not,” said Jack. “Take your time. Maybe draw a diagram. That might help.”

  “Good idea,” said the sphinx. Claws sharper than steel scratched a line into stone. Eyes narrowing to points, the monster stared at the picture as if confronting an enemy.

  “If Achilles starts here,” the sphinx muttered, marking off one point, “and the turtle starts here…”

  Cautiously, Jack stepped a fool closer to Megan. The sphinx didn’t notice. It appeared mesmerized by its drawing. Jack tiptoed closer, at the same time beckoning to his sweetheart to circle the monster. A few seconds later, their hands closed in a brief embrace.