Bride of the Castle

by John Dechancie

  “Have you ever looked into Biodynamics? When you achieve total body-system coordination, all that tension goes away.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Still later, Hochstader was beside himself.

  “Look, there’s a limit to how many times you can de-tune a portal without losing a fix on your home world. My world! I’ll never get back!”

  “I hear that, I really do. I know I’ve been using you as an object, but if you try to look at it in the context of its unique situational ethics—”

  “Cut the psychobabble!”

  “No, really, I mean it.”

  “Hail Hitler!” Hochstader 106 shouted after them as they went back to re-tune the portal.

  Much later . . .

  “I have no idea where we are!” Hochstader screamed. “You don’t know what you’re getting us into. There are boondock worlds you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in. Some you’d wish you were dead in. Strange places—”

  “I never saw this trough-convergence on my biorhythm chart.”

  “You never . . . ? For God’s sake.”

  Jeremy Hochstader hit the keys furiously. Out on the floor of the lab, the Castle’s mainframe computer hummed and whirred. An occasional spark snapped among the huge machines arranged along the far wall.

  “Jesus, this joint is creepy,” Max said. “Who did you say owns the place again?”

  “The Castle? Lord Incarnadine.”

  “Lord Incarnadine.” Max shook his head. “Strange, strange.”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “And you live here?”

  “Yeah. Please, I’m busy.”

  “Sorry, but this is just so hard to believe. What’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?”

  “The Castle. Living here.”

  “It’s more fun than a barrel of orangutans.”

  “That so?”

  “Although it does get risky on occasion.”

  As Hochstader worked, Max took in the lab again, still marveling. “I’d like to see the rest of the Castle.”

  “It’s extremely big. And there are portals all over the place.”

  “Like this one?”

  “Yes. Leading to worlds more weird than you can imagine. You think the Castle’s strange. You oughta see some of those worlds. They’re not just variants of Earth, like this one. Damn!”

  Max was alarmed. “What?”

  “I think I just . . .”

  Hochstader got up and ran toward the curtain. Max began to follow but nearly ran into the little guy, who had stopped at the curtain to peer cautiously through.

  “What is it?” Max demanded.

  “Just checking to see if the office building is still here. Something happened.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t know. A glitch in the program. I might have hit a wrong key. Something tweaked, but it looks okay. This is just another minor variant world, looks like. Come on.”

  Max followed Hochstader through the curtain and into the back room. Hochstader was still wary, treading softly.

  Max nearly bumped into him again in the outer office. And when he saw why, he nearly fell over.

  Something . . . some thing was seated at the desk, a nightmare of multiple pincers, green chitin, and wobbling antennae. It turned many-faceted bug-eyes on its visitors.

  “And . . . who . . . might . . . you . . . be?” it whirred, its horrible mouth working clickety clickety clickety click.

  “Sorry,” Hochstader said. “A glitch. We were just leaving.”

  “You . . . are . . . an . . . interesting . . . variant,” the creature said. “Are . . . you . . . edible?”

  “Not very,” Hochstader temporized, backtracking. He bumped up against a transfixed Max.

  “Move!” Hochstader whispered.

  “Huh? What the hell is that?”

  “Back through the curtain—now!”

  “Wha—? Oh, yeah.”

  They ran back into the lab. Hochstader dove for the terminal and frantically banged away at the keyboard.

  Presently, he stopped typing and collapsed into his seat. “Jesus.”

  Max was still looking back at the portal. “What the hell was that thing?”

  “I dunno, but we don’t want to mess with it.”

  “I should say not. Any chance it’ll come after us?”

  “I tumbled the tuning program.”

  “Eh?”

  “That world isn’t out there any more. In fact, I closed the portal.”

  Max’s pale eyebrows shot up. “You closed the—”

  He dashed to the curtain and threw it aside. Behind it lay a blank stone wall.

  “Hey! I gotta get back to my world!”

  “Hold your friggin’horses!” Hochstader said, a placating hand extended. “I have to do some calculations first before I tune the portal again.”

  “I’ll tune you like a cheap boombox, you little asswipe. Why the—” Max halted. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

  Hochstader was puzzled. Someone had come into the lab, but he hadn’t noticed until Max reacted. Following Max’s gaze, he found himself confronted with yet another of his duplicates.

  “What the flipping hell is going on here?” Hochstader 108 demanded.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  the bedroom door opened. Linda Barclay stood in the doorframe, looking down the hallway outside.

  “Okay, see you later!”

  “You sure you’re feeling better?” came Melanie’s voice.

  “Don’t worry about me. And don’t worry about Gene, either. You know how he is. He can take care of himself.”

  “I won’t worry if you won’t. I’m more concerned about you, Linda.”

  “Don’t be. Did they get a room for Rance?”

  “Yeah, he’s okay for tonight. What do you think of him, by the way?”

  “Clean him up a little and he’d be a hunk.”

  “Yeah, he’s cute. Rough around the edges, but—”

  “Okay. Good-night.”

  “Night!”

  Linda waved her hand. Around the room, candles mysteriously lit themselves, throwing a warm glow against stone walls. She came in, shut the big oak door, and threw the dead bolt.

  She crossed the room to the armoire and began to undress.

  “Excuse me . . .”

  She yelped, jumping two feet straight up.

  “Oh, dear,” said the king. “Terribly sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “My God! Lord Incarnadine!” Linda collapsed on the bed.

  Incarnadine had been sitting on the chair next to the bed but was now on his feet with a look of alarm. “Really, I’m awfully sorry. I should have said something when you came in, but I was sure you saw me. I was sitting right here.”

  Linda took a moment to catch her breath. “I must have looked right through you. I mean, you just don’t expect someone to be sitting in your room—But wasn’t it dark?”

  “It was, I admit. I lit a candle but it must have guttered out, and I’m afraid I dozed off.”

  “Ohhh—” Still pressing a hand to her heart, Linda sat up. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  “This is very embarrassing. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Oh . . . forget it.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have presumed to enter your bedroom.”

  “It’s okay. Think nothing of it, Your Majesty.”

  “Call me Inky.”

  Linda looked at him strangely. “You’ve never asked me to call you that before.”

  “It’s about time, don’t you think? After all—Well, we are friends, aren’t we?”

  “Sure.”

  Incarnadine smiled. He sat back down. “I’m glad.”

  Linda asked, “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  The king appeared uncomfortable. He looked off. “Yes, there is. Actually . . . it’s rather difficult to say, now, what with this little contretemps. Perhaps I should come another time.” Incarnadine be
gan to rise.

  “No, please stay. Tell me what it was.”

  “Well . . . all right, but this is going to sound funny coming from a man who just surprised a woman in her bedroom.”

  “Say it.”

  “Uh . . . very well.” He looked at her. “I’m in love with you.”

  Linda was silent for a long moment. “You’re . . . in love with me.”

  “Yes, have been for quite a while. And . . . don’t ask me how I know, but I do. You are in love with me.”

  Linda regarded him in silence. Presently she got up and went to the window. She looked out into the night. Stars were out, a glittering array of them.

  “Boy, you know how to get right to the point.”

  Incarnadine chuckled. “It’s best that way. Another sticky point is that you’re a few days away from being married. I admit this is a rather awkward time to bring it up.”

  “Rather.”

  Linda turned and leaned against the wall. “Why are you bringing it up?”

  “‘Speak now or forever hold your peace.’Something like that.”

  “I see.” Linda shifted sideways and gazed out the window again. She brought up a hand to touch the lead tracery.

  He said, “Well?”

  Linda laughed. “Well!”

  The king frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I see I was mistaken. My apologies. I’ll go now.”

  “No. Wait, please.”

  Linda came around the bed to him. “Another sticky thing. You’re a married man.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You’re asking me to be your mistress.”

  Incarnadine exhaled. “Are you aware that it’s a semiofficial position in the Castle? Traditionally speaking.”

  “No, I wasn’t. The royal mistress?”

  He gave a mirthless chuckle. “It’s not a title.”

  “How many royal mistresses are there?”

  Now his smile was sly. “State secret.”

  “I see.”

  “Really, I haven’t exercised the privilege in—Well, let’s not say how long. But it’s been a very long time, Linda.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Are you, really?”

  “Yes. I’m . . . well, I’m kind of flabbergasted at this. A little.”

  “I didn’t mean to gast your flabber, even a little.”

  She laughed at this. “You’re a strange man.”

  “One of the strangest, depending on what connotation of the word you mean to imply.”

  “I know you’re one of the most powerful men in the universe . . . the universes.”

  “I can’t deny the truth. You haven’t contradicted me, by the way.”

  “Contradicted you?”

  “When I said that I know my love is requited.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t deny the truth.”

  “So you do. You do love me.”

  They stood looking at each other for a protracted moment. Then they embraced, and their kiss was long and involved.

  Starlight threw the shadow of the window’s tracery across the big bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  the imperial palace was a huge many-columned affair of marble and granite. Now deserted, it rang with the banging and clanging of outland pillagers trying to find something of value overlooked by local looters. The imperial family and court had long since vamoosed, taking what valuables they could carry with them.

  The emperor himself was dead, assassinated, it was rumored, by a cabal of his own imperial guardsmen, who were themselves put to death by loyalists.

  The city of Orem was open to rapine and looting.

  Gene went out onto one of many terraces overlooking the city. The palace stood on the highest of Orem’s many hills and afforded a good view. Faint screams rose on the blood-tinged air. A bit of rape going on out there. He’d ordered there be no more rape, no more murder. But it was hard to stop barbarians from doing what they did best.

  The emperor was dead, and so was his empire, finally overrun by outlanders. Rognar was dead, too, as of yesterday; he’d taken ill during the siege. Heart attack, or so Gene had diagnosed it. Poor Rognar had all the symptoms. There was little medicine in this world, and the barbarians had almost none. Rognar had succumbed, and Gene and Snowy, who had risen in the ranks very quickly, had taken over field operations.

  “My lord Gene . . .”

  Gene turned to find Gruesome standing in the doorway.

  “What is it?”

  “My lord, the imperial guard has surrendered.”

  Gene chuckled. “Thought they would. They’re not about to fight to the last man.”

  “On one condition,” added Gruesome (whose proper name was Hurvaat, but let that pass).

  “What? They’re in a position to ask for conditions? We already have the palace. Tell them we’ll just seal ‘em into that garrison of theirs and let ‘em rot.”

  “They could last indefinitely with the stores they have,” Gruesome pointed out.

  Gene sat on the balustrade. “Very well. What condition?”

  “That you become emperor.”

  “What? Me? I’m no emperor.”

  “They say there must be an emperor, even an outlander one.”

  “Sure, if there’s no emperor, they’re out of a job.”

  “True, my lord.”

  Gene looked out over the scene below. It was a grand city, full of beautiful temples, libraries, theaters, and other fine structures. There was art here, culture. Learning. The libraries were being looted, their books hauled away for cooking fuel. Statues had already been toppled, frescoes defaced. It was a pity.

  “Maybe they’re right,” Gene said.

  Gruesome was silent.

  Gene nodded. “Yeah, they are right. There’s stuff here that needs to be saved. The fall of any civilization is a terrible thing. A dark age is to be avoided at all cost. Sure, the Empire had its rotten aspects—slavery, foreign bullying—but it also had stuff worth preserving.”

  “Surely you’re right about these things, my lord. I myself am ignorant of such matters.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay, tell the guard that I agree to act as emperor until I find a suitable replacement, one whom they can accept as well. And while you’re at it, tell them to fan out into the city and see what they can do to stop this wholesale rapine.”

  “But our men will oppose them.”

  “Send out word that the imperial guard has capitulated and sworn loyalty to me.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Gruesome bowed and took his leave just as Snowclaw walked out onto the terrace carrying a bloody battleaxe across his huge shoulders.

  “Hey, guy.”

  “Hi, Snowy. Had your fill of fighting yet?”

  “There’s no one left to fight.” Snowy let the axe clatter to the floor and sat on the balustrade. “Actually, I’m bushed.”

  “It’s been three weeks,” Gene said. “We’ve done a hell of a lot of fighting. I’m bushed myself. And I should get back to the Castle.”

  “What for? You missed the wedding, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t think so. I figure about two days have passed at the Castle since we left. If I get back to the portal by tomorrow, I just might make it. I have to leave now, though.”

  “Up to you,” Snowclaw said.

  “But there’s a political crisis to deal with. A power vacuum.”

  “I don’t know about that stuff. But anytime you’re ready to go, so am I.”

  “No, I want you to stay here, as my lieutenant. I’ll go back to the Castle, get married, and return immediately.”

  “Yeah, but what do I do in the meantime?”

  “Nothing. Just relay my orders, which I’ll write down . . . Hell, no one can read. Never mind. Just listen to me and remember what I tell you.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. You know I don’t know anything about human affairs. I can’t make any decisions.”

  “It’s easy, just remember my orders. Snowy, yo
u’re smarter than you think. In fact, sometimes I think you’re trying to hide how smart you are. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how many times you beat Linda and me at bridge.”

  “Bridge is just a game.”

  “If you can remember what cards have been played, you can remember my orders.”

  Snowclaw sighed massively. “Oh, all right.”

  “I want the looting and rape and killing stopped. You’ll have to keep issuing orders on that, and see that they’re carried out. The guard will back you up. There’s some kind of city police force here. Try to round them up and enlist their support. See what you can do to get the water supply moving again. The city needs water. Once the fighting dies down and the looting stops, refugees might come back to the city, and among them will be the city managers to accomplish all this. Just let things take their natural course. The Empire might wither away, but the city of Orem is eternal, or so the legends say.”

  Gene stood and looked out over the array of grand buildings again.

  “Actually, it’s a hopeless task. I think the whole kit and caboodle is doomed. But we’ve got to try to save it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Okay, Gene. Say hi to Linda for me. I miss her.”

  “I will. If she even speaks to me.”

  Gene left the terrace.

  Snowclaw looked down at the plaza below.

  Growling, he pointed a clawed finger.

  “Hey, you! Put that down and clear out of here! Yeah, you, you little weasel!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  a brilliant flash of lightning split the night sky. Raindrops beaded on the windows like glistening jewels; it had been threatening to rain in earnest all night but never really got around to it. Thunder rolled across the heath, and the wind kept the willows busy rattling their bare branches.

  “Three murders,” Dalton said, shaking his head. “Three murders and not a lot of clues.”

  “Or too many,” Thaxton said.

  They sat in wing chairs by the window of their upstairs bedroom. There was one bed in the room, and although the covers were turned down, the bed remained unslept in.

  “Too many suspects is what you have,” Dalton said. “And not enough unambiguous clues.”