Thankfully, before her vision cleared, allowing her a sanity-risking true glimpse of THE MONSTER, the ceiling fell, mincing and burying everything in the chamber. Thunder shook the castle to its foundation. Clouds of choking dust erupted from the door. It covered Nessy in a heavy gray film. Sir Thedeus, though tucked in her shirt, wasn't spared. He poked out his sooty head and sneezed.
"I guess that takes care of that problem, eh, lass."
The nurgax nuzzled her. Not a glimpse of purple was evident under its own coat of dust. It licked her once. The creature's thick saliva made the dust sticky in her fur. A most unpleasant sensation. But she endured it, waiting for the air to clear.
Tiama the Scarred stepped from the chamber, appearing as if by magic. Perhaps truly appearing by magic. The wizardess was untouched. Even the dust refused to cling to her.
"Ye gods." Sir Thedeus ducked himself away.
Tiama smiled. "Most delightful. At last, Margle has touched me. Now I believe I'm ready to retire for the evening."
It took a moment for Nessy to gather her wits, but she couldn't say she was honestly surprised. Wizards and wizardesses could be remarkably resilient.
The castle shook, and a thick tentacle pushed through the rubble. THE MONSTER screamed and stretched for Tiama. She showed no fear as the gnarled limb poised to lock her in its deadly embrace. She merely reached out, touched it with a single finger, and THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE no longer was. There was no death rattle, no final spasm. It quietly and instantly perished.
Tiama's smile vanished. "Pity. It was a remarkable specimen."
In a long moment of thought that Tiama took again for Nessy's fearfulness, Nessy realized that the wizardess was going to be even more troublesome than she'd originally imagined. And she'd already imagined it to be a delicate, perhaps impossible situation. Rather than let the hopelessness of it overcome her, she decided to take it one day at a time. With Tiama about to retire, this day was done. And tomorrow's challenges were too far away to concern herself over.
NINE
"If you would wait here, madam, I'll make sure the guest chambers are properly prepared."
Tiama frowned. "Wasn't I expected? Shouldn't the room be ready?"
"Yes, madam. But the master receives so few visitors, the room might have suffered some unforeseen neglect." Nessy shuddered. Lying was hard enough, but feigning incompetence was nearly impossible. The guest room was never used, but she'd kept it ever ready with the thorough dedication upon which she took no small pride. "The master would never forgive me if it wasn't perfect for your arrival, madam. It'll only take a moment."
Nessy pushed open the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind her. The chambers were flawlessly arranged, save for a light layer of dust which she proceeded to wipe away.
Sir Thedeus slipped from her shirt and flew to the bedpost. "This witch is going to be a terrible difficulty, lass."
She gently lifted the cat dozing on the large bed.
Fortune the feline stirred sleepily. "It's bad luck to wake a black cat."
"I'll take my chances."
She set him down, and Fortune stretched and stretched and stretched again for good measure. "Did you say something about a witch?"
"Aye. A horrid creature. She killed THE MONSTER with one touch. One touch."
Fortune, who hadn't quite finished stretching, yawned. "Which monster was that? The one that lives under Nessy's bed or that smelly one locked in the wardrobe? Or maybe the one that lurks about the catacombs. Never liked that one. Anyone who lurks that much must be up to no good."
"None of those. 'Twas THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE."
The cat licked his paw. "One touch, you say?"
"Aye."
"It's a good thing Margle's dead. Otherwise, he'd be very upset."
"Aye."
Nessy stroked Fortune between the ears. "Don't mention that again. Not while she's here."
He purred. "What's in it for me?"
Fortune had been a professional gambler, a dashing rogue, a legend among gentlemen of luck, a beloved rascal among their women. Seeking the ultimate challenge, he'd wagered his fate against Margle's wealth on a single roll of the die. To most, this would've been madness. But Fortune trusted his luck as only the greatest gambler could. It'd never let him down before, not when it mattered.
But there was always a first time. Margle had made him a cat because he had always been one in all but body. And like any feline, he could be loyal and honorable, but his first priority was always his own comfort.
"I've heard witches are very fond of black cats."
Sir Thedeus fluttered about Fortune's head. "Ye traitorous bastard!"
"She's not a witch. She's a wizardess diabolic," said Nessy. "And I don't think this one has a fondness for any creature with only four legs. But I'll give you an extra serving of milk if you behave yourself."
Fortune's tail flicked. "A bowl now. Not a saucer."
She shook his extended paw. Fortune was a cat of his word and never went back on a deal. She supposed he was much like a demon that way except with less interest in sowing discord and devouring souls.
"Greedy prat," grumbled Sir Thedeus.
"It's bad luck to swear at a black cat."
Next, Nessy went to the chimney and coaxed the flame to life. It wasn't easy, for he was very stubborn. She tossed several logs into the fireplace, but he refused to blaze. She expected as much. Once, only once, she'd run behind and forgotten to feed him his weekly log. He'd nearly extinguished and hadn't forgotten since.
"If you would please just burn a little brighter. Just long enough to take the chill from the air."
He stuck a tongue of yellow flame from under the firewood. "And what's in it for me? There's enough here to keep me ablaze for weeks, properly rationed. Why should I risk myself for some wizardess?"
Sir Thedeus groaned. "Is everyone mad? This witch'll take us all away. Or worse, plunder the castle and leave us here to rot forever in our curses. Stop being a gob and do yer task, lest she grows suspicious."
Nessy wished he possessed a touch more tact, but it convinced the fire to burn stronger. "Only to take away the chill. Not a single lick more."
Nessy dusted the full-length mirror in the corner. She gently tapped the glass. Her reflection covered its ears.
"Don't do that," said Melvin of the Mirrors. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is on this side of the glass?"
"I can't say that I do," she admitted, "but I needed to be certain I drew your attention. I need you to keep an eye on the wizardess for me. Can you do that?"
Melvin moved from Nessy's reflection to Sir Thedeus's. He spoke not only with the bat's voice, but the accent as well. "Ye needn't have asked. I'll keep ye informed should she move from this room."
"Thank you."
The guest chambers prepared to her satisfaction, she let Tiama in. The wizardess glanced about with inscrutability verging on dissatisfaction.
"Will that be all, madam? Or can I make you comfortable in any other way? Perhaps some wine and cheese?"
Tiama scowled. "I long ago discarded such ridiculous appetites. Now leave me, Nessy, and don't disturb me lest you wish to lose your immortal soul."
She herded Nessy through the door and closed it with a quiet click.
"Immortal soul." Sir Thedeus snorted. "Why must witches always be so melodramatic?"
"Just part of the occupation," said Fortune. "You must admit it sounds better than merely threatening to boot her behind. I'll see you in the morning, Nessy. Remember now, it's bad luck to break a deal with a black cat." He licked his lips and strutted away.
"Now what are we to do?" asked Sir Thedeus.
Nessy stroked the nurgax's small wings and frowned at the gray dust left on her palm. "Now, we take a bath."
The castle had a large, opulent spa with a spring-fed bath. The water was always pleasantly warm, and it had magical properties, able to clean away the thickest, most stubborn grit and grime. It was certainl
y called for in this case. Nessy wasn't supposed to use it. The spa was for Margle's enjoyment only. That was very strange as he'd never enjoyed it. Truthfully, she wasn't sure Margle could enjoy anything. No wizard she'd ever worked for had. They were always too busy with their pursuits of power, their arcane studies, their consuming idiosyncrasies. She'd learned to not question their rules, nor expect much in the way of appreciation. But Margle was dead, and she decided to take advantage of it while it lasted.
She lowered herself into the bubbling water. There was nothing quite like a hot bath.
The nurgax splashed joyfully, cooing and swimming in energetic circles. She kept watch that it didn't stray to the deep end where the Drowned Woman was bound, waiting to lure a victim to share in her watery grave.
Sir Thedeus dipped a wing in the water. "Ach, it's too warm. I prefer a cold bath."
"It's the fastest way to get the dust out of your fur." She glanced at the gray clouds slowly being drawn from her own coat.
The Drowned Woman rose from the depths. With skin drooping under its own wrinkles and flat, dripping hair, she was a vision of sogginess. "She's right. You are quite dirty. And the water is so much cooler over here. I'd be happy to wash your back if you'd like." She smiled crookedly and extended her grasping, clawlike hands.
"Get drenched, ye daft woman."
On their way to the spa, Nessy had collected Yazpib the Magnificent. The jar-confined wizard (what little was left of him) was her best choice for consultation. "I believe we have more pressing matters than dusty fur. Are you certain this was Tiama the Scarred you met? I can't believe my brother would be so arrogant as to invite her."
Nessy grabbed a bar of soap. "She entered the castle. No one does so without express invitation."
Sir Thedeus scratched at his itchy fur. "Ye've heard of this witch?"
"Wizardess," corrected Yazpib. "And I think it's safe to say there isn't a wizard alive who hasn't heard of her. Half don't believe she exists. The other half believe she does but wish she didn't. This is horrible. Absolutely horrible."
"We'll handle it, lad." Sir Thedeus dug hard behind his ears. "We handled Margle, dinna we?"
"Compared to Tiama, Margle was an amateur. My brother was exceedingly powerful, but he could still be undone by a slippery floor and a bit of misfortune. But even destiny bows to a wizardess of Tiama's rank. I've heard that everything she touches perishes. Everything. Even things which have already died are resurrected just long enough to die again."
"That seems rather pointless," said Nessy.
"Exactly. If she has that much power to waste on such an irrelevance, you can imagine what she could do when focused."
"The witch isn't our only problem," said Sir Thedeus. "We've still that hellhound and The Door At The End Of The Hall."
"And the demon." Nessy scrubbed between her toes. "Don't forget the demon. She's certain to be up to something." She admired the gleam on her long, black nails.
"I'd forgotten about her," said Yazpib. "Oh this is terrible. We're doomed."
"Sounds hopeless to me," remarked the Drowned Woman. "And in hopeless situations I've found it's best to just give up. Anyone care for a nice drowning? I'll make it quick."
Nessy dipped her head below the water, and the Drowned Woman beamed hopefully. Her grin faded when Nessy emerged again. Frowning, the woman submerged herself to sulk on the pool bottom.
Nessy leaned back and closed her eyes.
"How can ye be so calm, lass? Dunna ye understand the situation?"
"I believe I understand it very well. It's very delicate, and most anything we do will be the wrong course of action. Takes much of the pressure off when you think about it. Now let me enjoy my bath a while longer."
Yazpib laughed.
"What are ye chuckling about?"
"She's right. All this worrying doesn't accomplish anything. Better to start working on possible solutions."
Sir Thedeus's itchiness tempted him to the pool's edge. He snarled at the hot water. "Fine. Yer the wizard. Can ye think of any way to handle this witch?"
"We have to find Margle's fail-safe. Every wizard has one for situations like this, to insure good behavior from a visiting wizard, even a power like Tiama. I'm certain my brother has one. Possibly more than one, given his distrustful nature."
"What would one of these fail-safes look like?"
"That's the problem. The form varies greatly from wizard to wizard, based on the nature and the inclination of its maker. Mine was an enchanted winged lion. There wasn't a wizard alive who could stand against it."
"And yet ye are in that jar."
"I didn't get the chance to use it. The poor creature must've starved to death by now. Shame."
"It didn't starve," said Nessy. "Margle keeps it in one of the towers."
Sir Thedeus perked up. "Then the lion must be what we need."
"Aren't you listening? A wizard's fail-safe is a very personal thing. It isn't something casually traded about. My brother would've had to neutralize most of its enchantments very carefully to get it here. An awful lot of work, I imagine. Easier to get his own winged lion." Yazpib clicked his floating teeth together. "Greedy looter always did covet everything I had. No, whatever Margle had prepared, it would have to be more monstrous, less tangible."
"Is that a fact or an assumption?"
"Trust me. I know my brother. He'd want a horrible fate for anyone who dared challenge him, something truly offensive."
"That's too vague, lad. Canna ye give us something palpable? A scroll? A magic shield? Maybe an angry dragon?"
"Honestly, I can't say. I really haven't seen much of the castle, you know." He tapped against his jar. "Rather limited in my mobility."
"What about ye, Nessy? None know this castle better than ye. Any ideas?"
"Perhaps it's The Door At The End Of The Hall. Or the demon in the Purple Room. Or maybe it was THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE. Or is that THE MONSTER THAT NO LONGER IS?" She stepped from the bath and shook herself.
Sir Thedeus retreated from the raining droplets. "There are too many possibilities. How are we ever going to find it?"
Nessy said, "I don't think we'll have to find it. Margle wouldn't leave such business to chance. Nor would he trust anyone to avenge his death after he was gone. There would be magics in place should the situation arise."
She whistled, and the nurgax obediently rushed to her side so she could towel it off. Her own fur she preferred to allow to drip-dry.
"But the witch didn't kill Margle," said Sir Thedeus. "We did."
"Yes, I suppose the three of us are responsible," said Nessy. "You distracted him. I polished the stone on which he slipped. And the nurgax ate him."
"Do ye think there's a spell brewing now, lass, looking to do us in?"
"I hadn't really thought about it, but I wouldn't be surprised."
Sir Thedeus raised his ears. "Nor I. That dark wizard was a vengeful bastard to be certain." He stopped scratching and dipped himself into the pool just long enough for the enchanted water to rinse away the dirt. "Bring it forth, I say. I killed Margle, and I drew the Sword in the Cabbage, and I'll not be afraid of any magic from a dead wizard."
"Actually," said Yazpib, "magic from dead wizards is the most dangerous kind."
"I'll worry no more about Margle as long as that witch is here." He allowed Nessy to dry his gray fur. "And I think it would be a good idea to have some sort of backup plan. Just in case the castle canna adequately defend itself. Have ye any notions, lass?"
At first, she didn't know what to make of the question. She'd always enjoyed tending the castle and was very good at keeping its looming chaos in a fragile but stable order. But Margle had never once implied she was one degree less than incapable. It was odd to actually be asked her opinion, to be looked to for leadership, though she had been the mistress of the castle for many years now. But it was uncomfortable somehow to be in the position undisguised.
"Ye do have some ideas, dunna ye, lass?"
"That's me girl. Always thinking."
She was still not entirely at ease with this new standing, which was really her old standing with more respect. But she fancied she could learn to accept it. It was, after all, a very trivial change.
Distantly, bells jingled. It sounded exactly like the cursed mellifluous ringing of the Vampire King.
"I thought he had been devoured," said Sir Thedeus.
"Perhaps there's been a mistake." Nessy quickly threw on her clothes. "Or possibly he escaped."
The bells drew closer. They were moving fast, much faster than the King had moved in years. The torches on the wall flickered. The air grew chilly. Heavy rasps joined the jingles.
The Drowned Woman raised her head curiously. "That's not the King."
"No, 'tis certainly not," agreed Sir Thedeus.
A creature of smoke and fire stepped through the archway. It glared with yellow eyes and snarled with yellow teeth from behind the black cloud wrapped around its form. Each heavy step of its paws rang out like the music of the Vampire King. By eating the vampire, the hellhound had also taken on his curse, apparently.
"The beast eats only half-dead things," said Sir Thedeus. "We've nothing to fear."
"Speak for yourself." The Drowned Woman retreated to the pool's depths with a loud splash.
"Uh, Nessy," Yazpib whispered from his jar. "I'm not exactly entirely alive myself."
The hound advanced with the slow confidence of a predator closing in on cornered prey. Though the cloud that covered it made it difficult to pick out, it was at least as big as a large horse. Its claws sizzled against the tile, leaving black stains that Nessy measured as impossible ever to completely clean away. Despite realizing that this wasn't her most pressing problem, she was still quite annoyed.
Too Many Curses Page 9