"And he does have a point," added Fortune, who flicked his icy-tipped tail. He didn't mind the change, but it was a perfect illustration of how unpredictable magic might be, especially in the incapable hands of an out-of-practice wizard.
Yazpib bubbled and spun his eyes. "This is hardly the same thing. That was a potion. I'll admit alchemy was never my strong suit. But a simple spell like this should be, well, simple."
Melvin, still wearing Tiama's form, pressed against his looking-glass prison. "Anything to get me out of here. I thought it was bad when I had the run of the castle's mirrors, but now . . ." He paced the room's reflection. "If I have to stay here, I'll go mad."
"It isn't as bad as all that," said Dodger. "I once spent three years in a cell not big enough to stand up in." She raised upright. "And I'm not talking about the body I'm wearing now. I was a lot taller then." She chewed on a piece of chalk. Even when she'd been a woman, she'd had a bad habit of nibbling on whatever was at hand. Becoming a weasel had only made it worse. The benefit in this case was discovering she enjoyed the taste of red chalk. It was sharp, yet unassuming. The only flaw was the aftertaste. It was, not surprisingly, very chalky.
"And if you want to talk about maddening prisons," she continued, licking her lips, "I had a very unpleasant stay in the Vork Swamp Reformatory for Maladjusted Girls. Spent six months up to my neck in parasite-infected water. Got the trench foot something fierce. Except it wasn't just my foot. And then there were those two weeks in the Basalom Stockade. No cells there. Just one giant pit, and the guards had this game called 'Bludgeon the Scumbag.' It isn't nearly as much fun as it sounds."
"Dear gods, woman, sounds as if ye spent more time in prison than free."
"Hazard of the thievery profession. Goes with the job." Dodger tasted a piece of blue chalk. Finding it lacked subtlety, she went back to red. "And some prisons are quite nice. Almost a shame to escape from."
"Try not to eat all the chalk," said Yazpib. "We'll need some for the spell."
"I still think this is a bad idea," said Sir Thedeus.
Yazpib bobbed his eyes, then his brain. "Is the great Sir Thedeus afraid?"
The bat screwed up his twisted little face. "Ach, let's get on with it, ye wanker."
Yazpib glanced around. "Where's the opal? We need the opal."
"I'll check the bag." Dodger climbed into the small velvet sack and emerged empty-pawed.
"It's in her mouth." Fortune stretched, rolling onto his back.
Dodger attempted to protest but was unable to speak clearly. Drool spattered from her jaws.
"Spit it out, lass."
The small blue gem clattered against the floor. "Can't blame a thief for trying."
"Surprised ye dinna swallow it."
"I don't swallow opals. For me, it's diamonds or nothing. My father, rest his filching soul, choked on a ruby. Instilled a bit of a phobia in me."
"Fascinating," said Sir Thedeus, although he sounded anything but enthralled.
Dodger scampered deeper in the bag. "Mind you, my father swallowed things all the time. Had a small fortune in his stomach when he died. No safer place for a swindler, I suppose, but claiming the inheritance was a trifle messy. Still, he did provide for my childhood." She stuck her head out with a smile. "To this day, when I see a gutted fish, I tear up a little."
"Are we going to reminisce all afternoon?" asked Melvin. "Or can we get me out of here?"
Yazpib instructed his assistants. Dodger traced a few runes on the floor around the mirror. It took some time since her paws weren't made for it, and Yazpib had to keep correcting her work.
"I said a slash, not a line."
"Sorry."
"And that one over there should have a gentle curve, not sharp. Look at the scroll."
"I am looking at the scroll." She scratched her head. "I don't see any difference."
"Just do it as I say."
"I think I'm with the bat," said Fortune sleepily. "This is going to go badly."
"Then why are you still here?" asked Yazpib.
"Should be interesting, at least."
Sir Thedeus set the opal under the mirror and repeated the incantations Yazpib read aloud. Within a few short minutes, the blue gem glowed and the mirror shimmered.
"How long will it take to work?" said Fortune.
Melvin, who'd been leaning against the looking glass, tumbled suddenly through it. He nearly landed on Sir Thedeus and Dodger, who barely scrambled out of the way.
"See?" said Yazpib. "That wasn't very hard. And nothing bad happened."
Fortune laid down his head and closed his eyes. "Pity."
"How are ye feeling, Melvin laddie?"
"Great. I feel great. I'm out of that damned mirror. Out of all those damned mirrors." He looked to Yazpib, and instantly transformed into a duplicate of the wizard with a soft whooshing noise.
He glanced at Sir Thedeus and whooshed into a small, brown bat. "What is going on?"
"It appears that we've succeeded in taking you out of the mirror," said Yazpib, "but not the mirror out of you."
Melvin swept the guest room with his gaze, and when his eyes passed over any of the chamber's occupants, living or dead, he became an exact copy. The metamorphosis to one only lasted until his gaze rested a few seconds on another. "Not that I'm complaining," whoosh "but is there any way," whoosh "to make this stop?" Whoosh. "It's starting to unsettle my stomach."
"Try closing your eyes," suggested Dodger.
"Good idea." Melvin shut his eyes, and the transformations stopped, freezing him in Dodger's weasel form.
"I knew ye'd blunder it, ye fool wizard."
"This isn't a blunder," said Yazpib. "It's a setback. A minor one, at that."
A distant rumble shook the tall mirror. A second, louder thud followed. Then a third stomp. The room reflected in the looking glass quaked with each boom.
"Now what?" Sir Thedeus snarled. "Is this a minor setback as well?"
"It's just a jabberwock," said Yazpib. "Must've sensed the portal. All we have to do is break the spell."
"What's a jabberwock?" asked Dodger.
"Nothing really. Just a nonsense creature. More of a nuisance than anything else."
Something in the reflection screeched, and the mirror cracked.
"Repeat after me." Yazpib pronounced the simple six-syllable incantation slowly and clearly enough that a child might echo it, if the child could've heard. But it was next to impossible to hear anything but the jabberwock's piercing shrieks.
Sir Thedeus's ears were especially sensitive to the painful warble. "What was that, lad?"
"I said . . ."
Something pounded against the door in the reflection, adding deafening booms to the overpowering screeching.
"Speak up, lad!"
Melvin opened one eye, glimpsed Sir Thedeus, and became the bat's double. He shut his eyes and covered his ears. "What's happening?"
Dodger scampered into the velvet pouch, burying her head in its folds. Fortune arched his back and raised his hackles. His icy tail rained frost on the bed.
"Oh, I knew this was a bad idea!" shouted Sir Thedeus. "Ye bloody idiot!"
Yazpib shouted some equally hostile response, but it was lost to the thunder of the reflected door being broken into splinters. A great reptile squeezed through the archway. The jabberwock was a collection of mismatched parts. Its body was a huge purple ball, its neck long and thin as a bundle of straw. Two crossed eyes and a bucktoothed maw dominated its head. It had two horns. One twisted downward. The other turned in a seventy-degree corkscrew. One foot was that of an elephant, the other a duck. One of its wings was little, yellow, and feathery. The other was giant, black, and leathery.
The beast's head turned to odd angles as it struggled to focus its one blue and one red eye. It howled. Then belched. Then honked like a goose. The jabberwock charged forward, wobbling on its ill-matched legs.
"Quickly, repeat after me—" said Yazpib.
"There's no time, lad."
Sir Thedeus launched his tiny body into the mirror. It teetered over to smash upon the floor. "There."
"You idiot, that doesn't break the spell."
From one of the larger shards of glass, the jabberwock squeezed itself into the real guest room. The once-enormous beast was now only as large as a big cat.
The jabberwock inhaled, doubling in size. It belched, literally, a long, blue flame.
Dodger scampered under the bed. Sir Thedeus flew to the bedpost. Melvin opened his eyes and whooshed into Yazpib's duplicate, making flight impossible.
The dragon honked. Its cheeks inflated, and it vomited a bulk of feathers that filled the guest room floor six inches deep. The down made it sneeze first a dagger, then a book, then a bowling ball that came very close to smashing Yazpib in his jar.
Melvin whooshed into a double of the jabberwock. The original stopped cold and stumbled forward in a drunken gait.
"That a boy, lad," said Sir Thedeus. "Keep it distracted."
Melvin shut his eyes. The jabberwock sniffed him curiously.
"Well, do something before—Hey, get your nose out of there!"
The jabberwock cooed, hopping on its elephant leg.
"How do we get it back in the glass?" asked Fortune.
"We need the opal." Yazpib retreated to the bottom of his jar.
Sir Thedeus and Fortune dove beneath the sea of feathers.
"I can't find it," said Sir Thedeus.
"Find it." Melvin shuddered as the jabberwock nibbled playfully on his tail. "Quickly."
"Found it!" Fortune raised his head, clutching Dodger by the scruff of her neck.
The weasel, her cheeks bulging, smiled sheepishly.
Sir Thedeus sighed. "Give it over, lass." She spat it into his open wings.
"Now hold the opal up, spin around six times, and repeat after me," said Yazpib. "Tsaeb luof emac eeht ecnehw tpure."
"Is this supposed to really work?" said Sir Thedeus. "Or are ye just trying to make me look a fool?"
"It'll work." Yazpib smiled. "Looking like a fool is just a fringe benefit."
Reluctantly, Sir Thedeus did as instructed. The jabberwock shrieked. It flapped its wings. It whipped its tail. It spat out a live rabbit and two doorknobs as it expanded to fill half the guest room. Everyone but Yazpib retreated under the bed. The great reptile burped once more, puked up a leafy fern, and popped almost silently, splattering skin and innards. Its internal physiology was apparently nothing more than orange pudding.
Sir Thedeus poked out his head. "I thought ye said it'd return to the mirror."
"You must've made a mistake in your pronunciation." Yazpib floated low, away from the chunks of skin atop his fluid. "In any case, the portal is sealed. Melvin is free. And we didn't have to bother Nessy one bit."
The room was filled with feathers and slime. The mirror was shattered. The nightstand had been knocked over. One of the bed's legs had been cracked, and it wobbled. There were guts all over everything and a stench of peaches and burning cheese.
"We don't have to tell her about this?" asked Yazpib. "Do we?"
Fortune found the one spot on the bed that wasn't covered with jabberwock viscera. "I'll think she'll notice."
Sir Thedeus chuckled. "Aye. She's an observant lassie. Not much slips past her."
Dodger wiped a tear from her eye.
"Are ye hurt, lass?"
"It's nothing." She sniffed at the putrid innards and smiled sadly. "I just miss my father."
SIXTEEN
Not long after sunset, the hellhound stirred. It twisted a little in the very hungry carpet's coils, but mostly, it just waited. A less observant individual might think it tamed or too exhausted to struggle, but Nessy saw the predatory hunger in its exposed eye. It glared with quiet rage, a fury tempered with patience. As if it knew the carpet would soon let it go once more to stalk the castle's dead. Its stare burned into Nessy, and she wondered how intelligent it might be. Was it merely an animal driven by instinct, or did it possess some ability to plot, to remember and seek vengeance against those who had deprived it of a meal? Against a lowly kobold who had outwitted it? According to Stoker, it was merely an animal of the underworld, no more rational than a bear of the forest or a lion of the plains. But there was something in the eye, some quality of remembrance, like a dog that disliked someone, even if it couldn't quite remember why.
She trusted this vague disfavor wouldn't affect the hound's appetites. It must've been hungry, having gone unfed last night. Its stare would turn from her to eye the zombified bait not far away, and it would rouse. It would be safer not to be here when it was freed, but she figured if she were wrong, if the hound craved vengeance over dinner, then she would have to be the bait. Either way, the beast would go where she wanted.
The nurgax at Nessy's side alternately purred to her and growled at the hellhound.
Nessy, never one to waste an idle minute, thought of her other concerns while she waited. Chief among them was Tiama the Scarred. The dark wizardess had still not shown herself. Nessy didn't know how Tiama could wander the halls unobserved for so long. And she couldn't see the sense of it.
It all went back to Margle's death. Everything else did. Tiama's arrival was no coincidence. Nessy considered the possibilities.
The first, most logical, likelihood was that Tiama had come to claim the castle. It was very likely she knew Margle was dead. Wizards had ways of knowing things like that. When one of her previous masters had met his ugly death, it wasn't ten minutes before the next employer knocked on the door, a small army of golems in tow to cart away all his deceased rival's valuables. If Tiama knew, then why wasn't she taking everything that was hers by right of dark wizard custom? To let it all lie unclaimed made no sense. Nessy dismissed this possibility. Tiama wasn't here to pilfer the castle.
Nessy couldn't truly claim to understand wizards or their ways. But Tiama's activities seemed more illogical than usual. Maybe she was looking for something very specific. Perhaps she'd run afoul of Margle, and he'd taken something of hers or placed some sort of spell upon her that she now saw the opportunity to break. Whether she knew Margle was dead or not, she must've surely sensed something was not right. Had he been alive and well, he certainly would never have allowed her to wander his home at her discretion.
In fact, he'd never allowed anyone to do so. Margle hadn't hoarded and cursed for anyone but himself. He had never been especially interested in impressing anyone. It was one of the few qualities, perhaps the only quality, that Nessy had admired about him. Her mind kept coming back to this point. Tiama claimed an invitation had been extended, but such an invitation was implausible. But if it were a lie, it seemed an unnecessary one. Unless she didn't want Nessy to be suspicious.
But a dark wizardess had nothing to fear from a lowly kobold. No master Nessy had ever worked for had shown her anything but contempt. The idea that Tiama might fear Nessy was so absurd as to bring a smile to her face.
And yet.
And yet it was the only conclusion she could reach. Tiama the Scarred had entered the castle only with Nessy's approval, and now Tiama walked its halls—not as a proud, defiant wizardess, but as a timid thief prowling cautiously.
Before Nessy could explore this realization further, the very hungry carpet fell away from the hellhound. The great, black beast raised its head and howled as smoke and sulfur erupted from its scaly skin. It raked its claws across the rug, tearing long ugly gashes. The damage wasn't very serious for the very hungry carpet. It'd stitch itself together after Nessy fed it a few cloth scraps. The hound sniffed the carpet a few moments before snorting with satisfaction. It scratched behind its ear, accompanied by musical bells.
It turned its eyes on Nessy and snarled. She prepared to run, but the hound merely growled at her, baring its long, yellow fangs, and stalked toward the closest offering of zombified dinner. It gobbled down the meal, lapped at the troll mucus with its serpentine blue tongue before dashing to the second bait. This was devoured just as q
uickly, and it sprinted enthusiastically to the next.
Nessy followed along at a reasonable distance. A few times, the hound glanced back at her and snarled, but its dislike for her was dwarfed by its appetite. It gulped down treat after treat, following the route she'd laid out. It seemed to especially enjoy the troll drool. The beast's frantic dash eventually turned to a lazy stroll, and she worried it might get full too soon. She'd have to do something to keep it from wandering away. The best she could devise was to anger it with thrown stones and get it to chase her, but the plan wasn't necessary. Gorged on the undead, the hound loped into its final destination: the armory.
Its steps were heavy. Its raging eyes content. Even the black smoke rolled down lazily to its ankles, and the bells' melody muted as if too ponderous to ring. The creature belched. Fireballs blasted from its nostrils.
Nessy felt bad about what must come next. The hound wasn't evil, despite its origins. Certainly, it wasn't as horrifying as many other beasts she dealt with, but she couldn't tend it. It was too unpredictable, too wild.
Sir Thedeus stood atop the giant cabbage. "There ye are, ye great beastie! The time has come to send ye back to hell, and I'm the hero to do it!"
As if sensing the threat, the hound crouched low and roared at the tiny bat.
"Oh, this should be fun!" exclaimed the Sword in the Cabbage. "I haven't slain a hellhound in ages. Wonderfully satisfying pyre when they perish."
"Thanks for the warning, lad."
Sir Thedeus landed upon the hilt. There followed the divine glow and flash of light, and he stood transformed into the man he had been. He drew the sword and raised its radiant blade over his head. Nessy measured him as fine a hero as any she'd ever seen. His stark nudity lowered his bearing a bit but spoke volumes of his courage.
Sir Thedeus leapt from atop the giant cabbage, fifteen feet to the floor, landing with easy grace. Unafraid, he strode purposely toward the hound.
"Can ye know fear, beastie? If ye can, then know that yer unholy existence will no longer be tolerated. For all the innocent dead (and even the not-so-innocent dead) within this castle, I shall strike ye down, back into the accursed hell ye've too long escaped." He spun the sword fancifully before him. "The Vampire King was a great, ridiculous prat, but he shall be avenged this night. So I swear! For I am Sir Thedeus! I am yer destroyer!"
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