"But we didn't kill him," moaned an apparition with a trembling voice. "It's not our fault."
"As if that will matter," said a hefty rat. "Wizards are defined by their disproportionate vengeance. Wouldn't be surprised if he turned the lot of us into slugs."
"I resent that," said a slug.
"Why would he be using the front door?" asked a gnat, although no one heard him.
"Being a slug isn't the worst thing you can be," said the slug.
"You're slimy and disgusting," countered the rat. "You haven't even got the dignity of a shell."
"At least I'm not diseased."
"That's a myth. It's the fleas that are diseased. Not me."
"How dare you, sir!" shouted a flea nestled on the rat's shoulder.
"Doesn't make any sense for him to be using the front door of his own castle," said the unheard gnat. "Even if he has come back from the dead."
Nessy barked a few times to collect everyone's attention. It took a moment for the assembly to fall silent.
"What are you going to do?" asked the cloud.
"I'm going to see who it is," said Nessy. "Now please be quiet."
"If it's Margle," whispered the rat, "don't let him in. I don't want to be a slug."
The slug, who'd had his fill of being insulted, stormed from the chamber as fast as his single foot could propel him. He'd already dashed half an inch.
"And even if he did use the front door," thought aloud the gnat, "I don't think he'd ring the bell. He'd probably just come right in."
Bethany the banshee keened, "Beware your footing, Nessy! You're going to trip and bruise your shin!" Her screeching voice filled the room, causing everyone to cover their ears. Those that could anyway. "Brrruiiiisseeeed shiiiiiiiiiinnnnn!"
"Thank you, Bethany. Now please be quiet."
The banshee shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Sir Thedeus clung to Nessy's shoulder. "Is answering the door such a good idea?"
"The bells have been ringing for twenty minutes. Whoever is out there isn't likely to go away. Perhaps it's just a wandering minstrel looking for a few coins. Or a traveling boot salesman."
"Aye, lass."
Neither believed that. Everyone in a thousand leagues knew to avoid this castle.
Nessy climbed upon the nurgax's back and opened the slit in the door. She found herself staring into burning red eyes. Literally: she could see the flames dancing within.
A soft woman's voice floated through the slit. "Where's Margle?"
Nessy kept her head. She didn't say the first answer that came to her, the truth, and found a half-truth, which was as close to lying as she could comfortably do without some mental preparation.
"The master is indisposed." She smiled politely. "Can I help you?"
The burning eyes and their blond brows knit in a glare. "Yes, tell your master that it is exceedingly rude to not greet an invited guest when she arrives."
"As you wish, madam." Still smiling, Nessy closed the slit.
"Did she say she was invited?" asked Sir Thedeus.
"Apparently."
"Is she lying? She has to be lying."
The accursed gathering chattered among themselves. Their noise was soon an echoing clatter.
"Quiet down, please!" shouted Nessy.
She opened the slit again.
"My apologies, madam, but the master must reschedule your visit with his sincerest regrets."
"No."
"I'm sorry, madam?"
The fire in the visitor's eyes ignited, creeping up her eyebrows with an unpleasant burning odor. "Just who does Margle think he is? I am Tiama the Scarred, premier wizardess diabolic of the Forbidden Continent. I will not be rescheduled."
"Yes, madam. Would you excuse me one moment, madam?"
She closed the slit.
"Ye can't let her in," said Sir Thedeus. "If she finds out Margle's dead, it'll be all over for us."
"She'll turn us all into slugs," moaned a spirit. "I don't want to be a slug."
"Better than a plague-bearing vermin," grumbled the slug who was now seven inches closer to his dramatic exit.
"How do we know she was invited anyway?" asked the cloud. "She could be lying."
"Yes, yes." A raven with a tendency to repeat herself agreed. "She's a liar, liar. Margle would never invite, never invite anyone."
The cloud grayed. "She wants to come inside and plunder the castle. Take us away for twisted experiments."
The gnat shouted with all his might. "If that was the case, wouldn't she just come inside? Why lie about it?" If the hall had been quiet, he might even have been heard.
"I don't see why she'd lie," said Nessy. "If she wanted in, she'd just push her way inside. In any case, I have to let her in if she doesn't go away. If she knows Margle is dead, it won't make much difference. If she doesn't, turning her away would only make her suspicious things are out of order."
Sir Thedeus agreed. "I can see yer logic, lass. But once the witch—"
"Wizardess," corrected the gnat, but Sir Thedeus continued without pause.
"—is inside, won't she realize things are amiss then?"
This was very true, and a murmur of approval filled the hall. But to Nessy's thinking, this was a later dilemma.
In her mind, all problems were divided into three categories. There were the Present Problems, which demanded immediate attention. There were the Soon Problems, which were quick to become Present Problems unless judiciously handled. And there were the Later Problems, which were not worth worrying about because they might become Present Problems or they might become Soon Problems or, when she was fortunate, might grow into Never Problems.
Never Problems occupied an invisible fourth slot in this spectrum, but, as they were difficulties that never existed, she'd never actually defined them consciously. She was far too practical for such abstract philosophy. When a tree fell in the forest of Nessy's imagination, she didn't ponder what sounds it might or might not make. She just set about chopping it into firewood.
The bells tolled again. Tiama the Scarred wasn't leaving, and all wizards Nessy had ever met were intractable once they made up their minds. She opened the slit.
"I'm afraid the master is very busy at the moment, madam. But I've been given instructions to show you to the guest room for the evening."
The flame in the wizardess's eyes dimmed, though she still didn't look happy. "Very well."
"Excuse me, madam. I'll just need a moment."
Nessy closed the slit and turned to the menagerie. "Go on. If she sees you all here, she'll know something is wrong for sure. Tell everyone else that we have a wizardess in the castle, and to watch themselves. One slip up, and we'll all be finished."
The throng dispersed amid much concerned whispering.
"Watch your step," warned Bethany as she vanished. "Bruiiissssseeed Shiiiiiiiinnnnnnn . . ."
The front doors were tall and wide, and a heavy bar was set across them. Nessy tried to lift it, but she lacked the strength.
"I dunna know if this is such a grand idea, lass."
"It isn't, but it's the best we have." Nessy raised her hands before her and grunted the levitation incantation she'd learned last night. The bar hopped once, twice, three times before successfully falling to the floor.
"Not bad," said Sir Thedeus. "Maybe ye've a talent for magic after all."
The doors flew open, and Tiama the Scarred stepped inside. Despite her title, she was without any trace of disfigurement. So flawless as to be thoroughly featureless. Her stark white skin was taut and wrinkle-free. Her hair was so light and fine as to be practically invisible. Her lips were entirely omitted around the unforgiving slash of her mouth, and her nose was barely present upon her face. Her ears were so tiny and round, they gave Nessy the impression of sliced mushrooms. The wizardess wore a long, red robe that obliterated any trace of her figure, good or ill. She seemed a tremendous absence, an emptiness of any quality.
Except for her eye
s. These were harsh and burning in every sense. The fire within revealed a blackened soul that sent shivers through Nessy. Margle had been severe, but this was even less forgiving than her master.
The nurgax growled.
"Dear gods, what a witch," whispered Sir Thedeus. He climbed into the safety of Nessy's shirt.
Tiama folded her arms. Her long sleeves fell to her elbows, showing forearms that were without beauty or blemish. She had the hands of an unfinished marionette with tight, knotted knuckles and no fingernails.
"Do you have a name, beast?"
"Nessy, madam." She bowed. "It is my pleasure and honor to serve you."
"Nessy," repeated Tiama, making the word seem a frightful insult. "Nessy, I've traveled far this day to see your master's supposed wonders." She glanced around the chamber. "As yet, I find myself highly unimpressed."
"Yes, madam. The master sincerely apologizes for the inconvenience. But as you have traveled so far, he gladly offers you his hospitality for the night."
"Hospitality." This word too seemed appalling when spoken by Tiama.
"Yes, madam. If you'll follow me, madam, I'll show you to the guest room."
"It's an early hour yet. Does your master expect me to retire for the evening?"
"The master offers his grandest apologies." Nessy hesitated. Lying didn't come to her easily. "He is engaged in a very precarious alchemy experiment at the moment. It shall keep him occupied for the night."
"Occupied." She spat out the syllables with evident disgust. She might have been frowning too, but her mouth hardly moved, making it difficult to discern expression. "And why would Margle begin an experiment that would take all night when he knew I was coming?"
It was a reasonable question, and Nessy had no reasonable answer ready. Tiama took Nessy's hesitation as nothing more than the dreadful confusion such a simple beast must experience before a wizardess diabolic.
"You're the creature that tends this castle, are you not?"
"Yes, madam."
"Then surely, you must know your way around it." Tiama might have smiled. "You shall show me some wonders if your master cannot be bothered by customary civility."
Again, Nessy paused. She'd been hoping to gain some time to prepare the castle for Tiama's presence. An hour or two to plan would've been helpful. But life didn't always go on a schedule. Much as Nessy disliked admitting this, she accepted it as indisputable reality. She had many important things to do: sweep a few halls, feed a few beasts, make dinner, study her magic, find The Door At The End Of The Hall, slay a hellhound, and read to the monster under her bed. And these were just the tasks that came immediately to mind.
But Tiama the Scarred was the most pressing of her concerns. So Nessy adjusted her schedule accordingly. A few halls would remain dusty. Dinner would be a little late. The Door At The End Of The Hall could stay lost a while longer. The hellhound would have another night to prowl. And the monster under her bed would just have to wait.
"Nessy, shall we begin?" asked Tiama.
"Yes, madam. Right this way." Nessy turned, slipped on a slug's slimy trail, and banged her leg against the stone floor. The wizardess expressed neither humor nor concern as Nessy got up.
"Watch your step, madam."
She dropped to all fours to take some weight off her bruised shin and led Tiama from the chamber.
The slug halted his "hurried" dash to catch his breath. He slouched with drooping eyestalks. "I'd rather be a rat," he admitted to himself.
"Even rodents have their problems," said the gnat.
And the slug would've been comforted by these words—had he actually heard them.
Rather than waste all her time, Nessy elected to give Tiama a tour of Margle's many rare and magical beasts. This way she could feed the beasts and limit Tiama's exposure to the castle's residents. Few wandered the bestiary. It was too dangerous a place for casual visitation. And Nessy briefly hoped an accident might occur. Tiama might make a careless mistake and get herself devoured. Nessy didn't put the chances of this occurring as very high, but it was possible.
Tiama spoke little. When she did, it was only to comment vaguely. Most creatures were "interesting." Others were "curious." A precious few were "quaint." Only the grisly ghast was deemed "amusing."
"Watch your step, madam." Nessy grabbed a bucket from her cart and emptied its leafy contents into the darkened pit. "Here we have one of the master's more frightful creations: the dread saber-toothed koala."
Tiama leaned over. Someone could've easily pushed her. There was no guarantee the wizardess would be killed by either the fall or the giant cuddly horror at the bottom. But Nessy didn't consider the consequences of such an action. The notion of arranging the hopeful accident never once occurred to her. She was having more than enough difficulty remembering to lie.
Sir Thedeus might have suggested it, but he was safely tucked away on her back and under her shirt.
Tiama leaned farther until it seemed certain she would plummet. Then she leaned some more until her rigid body hovered at a gravity-defying angle over the pit. And if Nessy had been plotting a push, she would've realized it was doomed to fail.
Tiama rubbed her hands together and dancing sparkles fell to illuminate the pit. The saber-toothed koala shrank from the light while stuffing leaves in its drooling jaws.
"Interesting." A flat, neutral tone was the closest Tiama's voice came to pleasant.
Nessy waited patiently for the wizardess to finish her study of this latest offering of Margle's abominations. When Tiama was ready, she floated from the pit's edge.
"After all of Margle's bragging, I expected more. There's nothing here I haven't seen in a hundred other wizards' homes."
Nessy found herself insulted. This was the best castle she'd ever tended, and Margle's collections were peerless. She decided to skip ahead and show the prize of her master's bestiary.
"You've yet to see THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE, madam. I assure you it will exceed your expectations."
"Lead on then, Nessy, with all due haste. I grow weary of these trifles." On the way, Tiama asked, "Is this nurgax bonded to you?"
"Yes, madam." Nessy had nearly forgotten about the ever-present creature. It followed her so obediently.
"And Margle allows this?"
Sir Thedeus popped up long enough to whisper in Nessy's ear. "Careful, lassie."
"The master intended to feed me to the creature, but it found another meal instead. Then bonded to me. All quite by accident, madam."
"And is there some reason he didn't kill you for such a transgression?"
"Perhaps he just hasn't gotten around to it yet, madam."
"I had no idea Margle was such a busy individual." If there was sarcasm in the comment, Tiama's flat voice devoured it.
Like many of the more horrible bestiary creatures, THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE was kept in a pit. But this pit was twice as wide as any of the others, and there was a heavy iron door atop it. And another gate atop that. And a third gate atop that for good measure. Each with its own tremendous lock. Three towering stone statues stood watch, ever vigilant. When THE MONSTER banged and thrashed with special vigor, the sentinels would show signs of life. They would raise their uncarved heads and clutch their granite swords. Once, THE MONSTER had pounded and thrashed strongly enough to dent the iron door, and the sentinels had stepped from their pedestals. But THE MONSTER eventually calmed, and they returned to their places. In addition, there was one final fail-safe: a ceiling of rusty ten-foot spikes, poised to both crush and impale anything in the chamber. The enchanted spikes hovered, and Nessy didn't think she'd ever be good enough with her own levitation spell to float them off the ground for a moment, much less years.
Nessy hadn't ever seen THE MONSTER clearly. In fact, she'd never seen THE MONSTER at all. But Margle had visited it regularly, and all those precautions surely meant it was a frightfully impressive thing.
Tiama, however, was less than excited as they approached. She yawned as w
ide as her thin mouth allowed.
Nessy opened the small trapdoor to the pit and threw in the mixture of raw meat, turnips, and griffin blood that was THE MONSTER'S meal. THE MONSTER belched and gurgled. A fetid stench assaulted Nessy's nostrils. She'd vomited the first several weeks she'd smelled it, but she'd grown accustomed to the stink for the few minutes she had to deal with it.
She stepped aside. "Would you like to have a look, madam?"
Tiama stood before the trapdoor and barely glanced down. "I can't see anything. Why does your master insist on keeping it so dark in here?"
THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE howled, belched, howled again, and gurgled and belched simultaneously.
"Perhaps it would be wise to step back, madam. You don't want to antagonize it."
Tiama smiled clearly for the first time. "Quite the contrary, Nessy. I believe that is exactly what I want to do."
THE MONSTER burped long and deeply. A putrid, brown cloud erupted from the trapdoor. Nessy and the nurgax stepped back, but Tiama stood as immobile as the sentinels.
"Is she mad?" asked Sir Thedeus. "She's sure to get herself killed."
Tiama waved her arm. The top lock opened with a groan, and the first gate slid back. THE MONSTER pounded against its prison, sensing one less barrier to its escape. The sentinels raised their weapons. Another wave of her arm opened the second gate, and the spikes overhead trembled.
THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE howled between gassy eruptions. A sentinel strode from its pedestal, nearly crushing Nessy underfoot.
"Perhaps it would be a good idea if we left now, lass."
Nessy, considerate a hostess as she was, agreed. They dashed out the chamber exit, only looking back once they were safely on the other side of the threshold.
Tiama seemed unaware of any presence save THE MONSTER's. She waved her arms for a third time, and the pit opened wide. A gleeful roar blasted upward and outward. The foul wind swept through the door and knocked Nessy off her feet. With teary eyes, she glimpsed the small blur of Tiama the Scarred, the much larger smudges of the sentinels, and the huge, indecipherable blot that was THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE. A sentinel thrust its sword deep into THE MONSTER. A gush of red and black fluid spewed. THE MONSTER screamed and lashed out with a claw (or perhaps a tail or a tentacle). Each formidable sentinel was shattered with a single blow. THE MONSTER opened its giant maw (or perhaps many hundred smaller maws). It gurgled triumphantly, and Nessy was certain the castle was next to be destroyed by its wrath.
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