He wanted to die right then and there. He was going to die, he was sure of it.
Voices. Humans. Snowy thought of getting up and running, but maybe if the humans saw him they would kill him and put him out of his misery.
A female screamed, then moaned.
“Oh, look. Look at all this. Fred, someone broke in. Look at my kitchen.”
“Cheezus. Honey, call the cops.”
“Oh, my God, what the hell were they doing?”
“Some kinda goddamn weirdo.”
“Mommy, who did this?”
“Shh! Jennifer, go back to the car.”
“Why, Daddy?”
Snowclaw really wished they would make less noise. He groaned and turned over. Maybe if he got a little more sleep …
“Fred, do you think they could still be here?”
“I’ll check upstairs. Where the hell’s my shotgun? Shit. It’s upstairs. The pellet gun, it’s down in the cellar.”
“Jennifer, don’t touch that!”
“What is it. Mommy?”
“I don’t know. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s yucky.”
“Jennifer, don’t.”
“Can I play with it?”
“No, it’s horrible. Leave it alone.I said leave it alone! Do you want to get smacked? Why do I have to —? What did you say, Fred?”
Great White Stuff, Snowclaw thought. What does a guy have to do to get a little sleep? Why did humans have to make so much noise all the time? He rolled over onto his stomach, his lower legs sticking out a yard over the end of the bed.
“How should I know where Brandon’s pellet gun is? I haven’t seen it in years. Fred, forget it. They’re long gone. It must’ve been kids. Jennifer! Go to your room right now.”
And how the heck could they sleep in these damned beds? They made his back hurt.
He really should be getting the heck out. These humans weren’t going to be pleased to find him.
“Of course they must have been kids. Nothing’s missing! The TV, the VCR, the stereo … everything’s here! Fred?Fred? Forget the damn pellet gun, will you?”
“Well, it’s just the thought of somebody breakin’ in here. Did you call the police?”
“Not yet.”
“What? Cheezus, do I have to do everything myself?”
Snowclaw was getting tired of listening to the commotion downstairs. He wasn’tthat sick, and he really should be getting along.
Snowy turned over. A small human female was standing at the foot of the bed, regarding him with baleful blue eyes.
“Hi,” he said. “Don’t tell your folks I’m here, okay? They wouldn’t understand. Sorry for messing up your bed, but … Where’re you going?”
The little girl went to the head of the stairs.
“Mommy!”
There was no answer. Snowy sat up, and regretted it.
“Mommy!”
“Jennifer, what in blazes do you want? Can’t you see Mommy’s busy?”
“There’s a big bear in my bed.”
“Jennifer, don’t start with me.”
“There is. There’s a big white bear and he’s got big teeth and white claws. He talked to me.”
“Fred, go up and see what the hell that kid is talking about.”
“She’s got a big bear in her bed, that’s what she’s talking about. How come these goddamn cops don’t answer their goddamn phone? They’ll pull you over for goin’ two miles above the limit, but when it comes to —”
“Mommy!”
“Jennifer, I am going to strangle you in a minute. Fred, do something? She’s driving me nuts. Look at this mess I have to clean up. Look at all this crap all over!”
Snowy put his head down and dozed off for what he thought was just a second or two. When he snapped awake and sat up again, the big male human was staring at him goggle-eyed from the doorway.
Snowy burped, then said, “I can explain….”
The man disappeared. Snowy got up unsteadily and made for the window. It wouldn’t budge, so he broke through it and went out onto the icy roof of the kitchen wing, doing a high-wire act along the apex. When he was halfway across, he looked back. The guy was aiming a gun at him.
Snowy’s foot slipped a split second before the shotgun let loose with a bang and a flash.
The next thing Snowy knew, he was on the ground, entangled in a copse of rhododendrons. Thrashing frantically, he extricated himself and struggled to his feet. He took off across the lawn.
Another blast shattered the night, and a bee-swarm of shot buzzed past Snowy’s head.
Then, suddenly, there was something in front of him, a strange aircraft. It made no sound, hovering about ten feet off the ground. A hatch opened up at the side of the thing.
Someone poked his head out. “Snowy, come on!”
It was Gene! Without breaking stride, Snowclaw took one mighty leap and hooked an arm inside the hatch. With Gene’s unnecessary help, he scrambled up the bell-shaped hull and dove in.
It was a tight squeeze inside the compartment. Linda was there, along with the new kid, Jeremy.
“Okay, we got him!”
“Roger,” Jeremy said, confident at the controls. The laptop computer was taped to the instrument panel in front of him. He punched a few keys.
“Uh, fellas?” Linda said. “There’s a guy with a gun out there.”
Jeremy said, “Hold on a minute. I’m going to jump directly back to the castle.”
“But he’s going to —”
The shotgun roared again, and buckshot spanged off the Voyager ’s hull, to no perceivable effect.
Snowclaw said, “How did you find me?”
“Magic,” Gene said.
Snowy sighed. “What else.” Then a sudden gust of nausea rose in him. “Gene buddy?”
“What?”
“Could you move over a little?”
“There’s no room. Why, what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to be sick.”
Forty-one
Sheila’s World
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…. But that is another story.
This particular tale is almost done, but for the wrapping up. It’s been a long concerto, and the soloist has one more cadenza in him, if the audience will allow, in which the them is restated for the benefit of those who’ve drowsed, wonder-weary, through the third movement —
“Life-styles of the infamous plutocrats!”
Gene raised his glass and toasted the palms, the cabanas, the tennis courts, the swimming pools, and the terraces. He threw in the sky, the surf, and the cute barmaid who had just served him a banana daiquiri.
“To decadence and high living. The only way to go.”
He drank.
“When is Incarnadine coming?” Linda asked, rolling over to let the tropical sun start toasting her back.
“He should be here any moment,” Trent said, lifting his shades to glance at his watch.
Sheila said, “Trent, do you think he’ll come?”
“I don’t see why not. He needs a vacation.”
“But so soon after … you know.”
“It’s been a couple of weeks since the funeral. I’m over my grief.” Trent sipped his Singapore sling. “Such as it was.”
“The funeral was so beautiful,” Sheila said. “The pageantry, the music alone. What was that beautiful piece they played as they took the casket away?”
“‘Pavane pour une Infante défunte.’ One of Inky’s favorite pieces.”
“Lovely.”
“It is that.”
Thaxton and Cleve Dalton came stumping in from the golf course. Thaxton threw down his bag and snapped his fingers at a waitress. “Anyone for tennis? After I’ve had one or two or three drinks, of course.”
“I’m pooped,” Dalton said, easing himself into a deck chair. “Getting old.”
“Mr. Dalton,” Sheila said, “you look younger every time I see you.”
“It’s the curative
balm of your enchanting aura, Sheila my dear. You radiate magic.”
“Oh, really.”
“Look at this place! It’s Palm Beach, Club Med, and the Riviera all rolled into one. And it’s a conjuration entire!”
Gene asked, “Sheila, what about all these other people in the hotel? I mean the guests, not the staff. They’re not castle Guests. At least I’ve never seen them before.”
“I don’t know who they are,” Sheila said. “They seem to have come with the spell. It would be kind of empty here without them, though. I mean, a seven-hundred-room hotel, my God. There’s not nearly enough of us.”
“Yeah, they do lend verisimilitude. But it’s still pretty spooky.”
“You’re telling me. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with a complete submarine crew.”
Linda said, “To change the subject, has anyone seen Snowy lately?”
“He’s waterskiing with Vaya,” Gene said, peering out into the lagoon. “Doing pretty well, it looks like. So’s Vaya, but she’s naturally athletic.”
“Healthy woman,” Cleve Dalton averred.
“Snowy says he has to keep to the water,” Sheila said “because of the heat.”
A page stepped out on the terrace. “Your attention, ladies and gentlemen. His Most Serene and Transcendental Majesty, Incarnadine, by the grace of the gods, King, Lord Protector —”
“And Keeper of the Keys to the Royal Crapper. Hi, gang. Sit down, for Pete’s sake. This is your shindig.” Incarnadine was resplendent in Hawaiian shirt, yellow shorts, mirror shades, and thongs.
“Welcome to Hotel Sheila,” the proprietor said with a curtsey.
“Thanks, Sheila. Well, I’m ready to party.” H.M. accepted a drink from a waitress. “Thank you. What’s this?”
Sheila said, “Complimentary banana daiquiri, sir, one to a guest. Then they’re four-fifty a pop.”
“Catering to the gentry, are we?”
Gene sneered, “The hoi polloi are strictly persona non grata.”
“Never mix your Greek and Latin, son.”
“I should brush up on my Greek. He was here a minute ago.”
“Not only are you nonpareil as a swordsman, Gene, but your wit is as sharp as your blade.”
“Hey, it’s a gift.”
“Hello, Trent.”
“Greetings, brother. You seem chipper enough.”
“Can’t brood forever,” the King said. “What’s done is done. By the way, folks, Trent and I want to thank you all for your many expressions of sympathy. You were also under no obligation to show up at the funeral. After all, the woman tried to murder the lot of you.”
“We wanted to be there,” Sheila said. “Besides, if it hadn’t been for her, we never would have discovered this place.”
Incarnadine surveyed sky and sea, then raised his eyes to the magnificent Victorian hotel behind them. “Beautiful, just beautiful. You’ve done a marvelous job. A stunning magical construct.”
“This place has endless possibilities. We’re building condos next.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Ten percent down, plus closing costs and half the points.”
“What’s the current rate?”
“Nine and a half, but the prime rate is about to go up.”
“You’d better show me a few lots, quick. But before that, I’d like to propose a toast. Is everybody charged?”
“Here come Vaya and Snowy,” Linda said.
They arrived, along with M. DuQuesne, Deena Williams, and some other castle Guests, and all were plied with drinks. Vaya’s ultra-brief bikini drew unabashed stares.
Incarnadine raised his glass. “I would like to propose a toast to my brother Trent and his betrothed, the Lady Sheila Jankowski. May they know happiness, peace, and the blessings of the Most High for the rest of their days.”
Hear-hears all around. All drank.
“The Loyal Toast,” Trent announced.
Everyone chorused: “To the King!”
“I thank you,” Incarnadine said. “And one more. To Castle Perilous. May it stand forever, and with it the worlds it created.” He took a seat and sipped his daiquiri.
Gene asked, “Mind answering a few questions, sir?”
“Fire away, Sir Gene.”
“Vaya’s universe. Do you think it’s one of the castle’s?”
“Can’t find it in any of the catalogues. Ervoldt’s book doesn’t mention it. I gather it was strange.”
“Like something out of pulp literature. Only the wildest of sci-fi worlds could have produced something like the Voyager.”
“I’m convinced that Jamin spelled you into a quantum universe. It’s possible. With a line to the interstitial etherium, he had enough power.”
“Are quantum universes different from the castle’s?”
“Oh, quite. The castle worlds exist. Quantum universes are just sets of probabilities.”
“Interesting,” Gene said. “I’d like to learn more about cosmology.”
“The library has every major work on the subject. By the way, is Osmirik here?”
“He’s … uh, he’s being ministered to by a team of the hotel’s masseuses-in-residence, I think.”
“Good. The man needs to have his horns clipped.”
Sheila said, “If Jamin had the power, why didn’t he win?”
“Jamin was a timid little man. A good majordomo, but I’m afraid he bit off more than he could chew. He was simply an amateur at big-time palace intrigue.”
“It’s sad.”
“He was old enough to have known what he was getting into. One hundred and sixty, I think.”
“I’m really intrigued by something you said,” Gene told the King.
“Really? What?”
“Your toast. I think it went something like ‘To Perilous and the worlds it created.’ Did you mean that literally? I mean, it’s rather a shocking thing to consider. A world like the one a lot of us come from, Earth, merely the creation of a magic spell cast in a world that seems more like a dream than reality.”
Incarnadine replied to the question, and afterward a hush fell over the party. Gene set down his drink and pulled Vaya close, as if to reassure himself of her continuing existence.
The sound of the breakers rose to fill the silence. A soft sea breeze rustled the palms overhead, and far out to sea, a bright sun threw skeins of silver light across the water.
What Lord Incarnadine had said was this: “Well, yes, Gene, that’s exactly what I meant. The castle’s worlds are created and maintained by the incredibly powerful nexus of the transformation spell. Without the castle, your world, along with Sheila’s. Snowclaw’s … everyone’s, would be like Vaya’s world, mere possibilities, a meager handful out of the endless infinity of possibilities that make up then — dimensional quantum super-cosmos. As such, they wouldn’t exist at all, in any meaningful sense.”
He had taken a sip and glanced around, mildly surprised. “I thought you all realized that.”
Biography
John DeChancie
John DeChancie is a popular author of numerous science fiction/fantasy novels including the hugely entertaining CASTLE series and STARRIGGER trilogy. He lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
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Castle Kidnapped c-3 Page 21