Castle Perilous (10 page)

Linda was annoyed. “Really.”

“No, come on, Linda. You can do it.”

“This is so insane.”

“Seriously. Go ahead.”

“Oh, shit. All right.”

“Think of food.”

Linda closed her eyes. “I'm thinking of food. What kind of food am I thinking of?”

“I give up.”

“Well, what should I think of? Come on, Svengali.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Uh . . . uh . . . a Big Mac. And french fries . . . and a real thick strawberry shake.”

“Yuck. Okay, think of that.”

“I'm thinking, I'm thinking.” She opened her eyes. “Whaddya mean, ‘yuck'? Who's the magician here?”

“Okay, okay, go ahead.” Gene turned, saw Snowclaw, and said suddenly, “Hey, wait a minute. You have to think of something for Snowclaw.”

“Oh, gee. How can I do that?”

“Forget about me, Linda. See if you can do it.”

“Isn't there something . . . ?”

“Well, I like kwalkarkk ribs marinated in shrackk and done just right, but forget it.”

“Well, I'll think of barbecued ribs. Maybe that will do it.” Linda closed her eyes. “Okay, here goes.”

She took a deep breath and stood motionless for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, threw out her arms and said, “Abracadabra. Nothing.”

“Oh, come on,” Gene chided. “You can do better than that.”

“Silliest thing I've ever done. Okay, one more time.”

She tried again, same result.

“This is ridiculous. The pill must have been a fluke — or maybe I had it on me all the time and didn't realize it.”

“That's unlikely,” Gene said. “Do you remember how you did it?”

“Well, I was just — ” Linda broke off and dismissed the whole thing with a disdainful sweep of the hand. “Look, I'm definitely not in a magical mood today. Let's forget it.”

Gene sighed. “Okay. Sorry. Actually, I was thinking that a little magic might help us find a way back home.”

Linda bit her lip. “You know, you're probably right.” She thought about it. “But I'm no magician. I really don't think I am.”

“It's okay. Well, we should head back to the dining room, I guess.”

“We ought to find a way out of here, is what we should do.”

“Yeah. But how is the question. Snowclaw? You have any ideas?”

“I'm not an idea man.”

Gene snickered.

Linda asked, “Do you guys think you could find your way back to the part of the castle where you came in?”

Gene shook his head ruefully. “I'm very pessimistic about that, but I think we have to try.”

“Snowclaw, when did you stumble into this place?”

“Just a short time before Gene did.”

“And you guys met up right away. That might mean that your gateway and Snowclaw's are close together.”

“Might,” Gene said, “if they still exist at all. What about the one you came through?”

“Forget that. I know it disappeared right after I crossed over. I saw it.”

“Hmph. Straight through your bedroom closet, huh?”

“Yeah. Right out of a kid's nightmare.”

“Wow. 'Course, coming through by way of a parking garage in an office building isn't exactly rational either.”

“Not much about this place is.”

“Yeah. Well.” Gene placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword. “What do you say we poke around a little, try to get the feel of this place, if that's possible? If we can get our bearings, maybe we can search systematically without getting ourselves lost again. We just might luck onto another gateway back home. Maybe not the one we came through, but a way back nonetheless.”

“But the way these aspects pop in and out seems so random,” Linda said. “We might come out in the middle of the Gobi Desert, for all we know.”

“Or Times Square . . . or Red Square, for that matter. We'll have to take our chances.”

“I guess we will.”

“Snowclaw, can you hold off eating for a while?”

“Sure. I'll probably faint, but — ”

“A big guy like you?”

“How do you think I got to be such a big guy?”

Linda said, “You know, I really could go for a Big Mac. It'd be a little piece of home. And I really am hungry. I just picked at breakfast, and after running around all morning — ”

“Linda.”

“ — I think I really worked up a — Huh?”

“Linda, turn around.”

“Turn ar — Oh, my God.”

There, on the table, was a cardboard box bearing the familiar symbol of a fast-food restaurant chain, a red cardboard envelope full of french fries, a strawberry milk shake, and two plates: one, of normal size, held a rack of barbecued spare ribs; the other was large and bore what looked like the entire spine and rib cage of a fair-sized animal.

“Kwalkarkk!” Snowclaw shouted, throwing down his broadax. He went to the table, tore off two or three ribs and bit into them, crunching both meat and bone between his huge, gleaming teeth. He chewed briefly, swallowed, and said, “Hey, these are great! How did you do it, Linda?”

Gene was awed. “I don't believe you ate the bones.”

“Best part.”

Linda opened the box and peeked in. “It's a Big Mac,” she said quietly.

“Wow.” Gene picked up the fries and sniffed. “They're warm.”

“So's the burger.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

“Yeah, and the ribs . . . What's wrong, Linda?”

Another tear rolled down her cheek. “Scared,” she said.

“Gee, I don't know why. This is great.” Gene scratched his stubbly chin. “Yeah. I guess I do know why. It's all very . . .” He shrugged. “All very hard to get used to. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, sniffing. “I'm okay.”

Gene went to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Sure you'll be okay?”

“Sure I'm sure. I'm a goddamn magician, aren't I? I'm a witch.” She gave a short, semihysterical giggle. “Just call me Samantha.”

“Yeah, and I'm Darin. And this is all a TV sitcom.”

She laughed, tilting her head to his shoulder. “Now, if I could only wiggle my nose.”

“Try it.”

She did it, and they laughed.

Snowclaw had already wolfed down most of the kwalkarkk. “Anybody want these little ribs here — what're these from, a bird, or what?”

“Go ahead,” Gene said, still laughing.

Snowclaw picked up the plate, flipped the spare ribs into the air and caught them in his mouth. He crunched and chewed clinically. “Not bad,” he pronounced. “Kinda tasteless, though. Hey, are you guys gonna eat any of this?”

“Oh, help yourself, Snowclaw,” Linda said, recovering from the giggling bout. “If I get hungry, I'll just go poof and conjure up a cheeseburger or something.”

“Is that what this is?” Snowclaw asked. He popped the Big Mac into his maw, gave it three perfunctory chews, gulped it down, then tilted his head back and upended the box of fries into his wide-open jaws.

“Let's go, Emily Post,” Gene told him, walking arm in arm with Linda out the door.

“Be right with you, Darin!”

 

“Are we lost again?”

Gene looked around. “Oh, hell, I guess — ”

They heard pounding feet. Three castle guards rushed out of a crossing corridor and double-timed it away from them down the hall. One of the Guardsmen looked back, giving Gene's uniform the eye. But he didn't stop.

“Looks like something's up,” Gene said. “I wonder what.”

Linda said, “Well, there's a war going on outside.”

“Yeah, a siege. I wonder what happens if the besiegers win — happens to us, I mean?”

“We can hide.”

“Let's hope.”

They walked on down the corridor. Along the wall here and there were empty niches and alcoves. Arches swept across the hallway at even intervals, supported by massive columns to either side. One door led through to a spiral staircase. They came to the intersecting corridor and stopped.

“Which way, gang?” Gene asked.

“I think we've been here before,” Snowclaw said. “I smell you guys.”

“You're no rose petal yourself, kid,” Gene retorted.

“I didn't say you stank,” Snowclaw said, sounding a little miffed, “now did I? It's just that I've got a good nose, and you hairless types have a distinctive smell.”

“Just kidding, Snowclaw. I can't say you have any sort of scent at all. Humans don't have a well-developed olfactory sense.”

“Olwhatory?”

“Smell, smell. Anyway, I apologize. I didn't know you were sensitive.”

“Oh, it's all right. For some reason I'm edgy.” Snowclaw sniffed the air. “Don't know what it is.”

Suddenly the floor began to vibrate and a low, growling rumble came from what seemed like the entire structure of the keep.

Linda clutched at Gene's sleeve. Gene took her hand and pulled her back down the hall, ducking into a nearby alcove. “Come on, Snowclaw!”

Snowclaw crowded in with them.

About five seconds later the alcove began quickly to rise.

“Whoa!” Gene yelled, poking his head out the opening. “Hey, we're — ”

Snowclaw yanked him back just as the thick stone edge of the ceiling — and the floor above — swept past. “You'd look funny without a head.”

“Thanks. Sorry, that was stupid.”

Another floor went by, then another. Then the moving alcove slowed. A fourth cross-section of stone slid down across the opening, coming to a stop at a level smoothly flush with the floor of the alcove.

“Is this lingerie, do you think?” Gene asked.

The three jumped out.

Linda marveled, “A stone elevator.”

The vibrations grew stronger.

“Hey, look,” Snowclaw said, pointing down the hallway, which was identical to the one four stories below except that it ended in an archway leading to the outside, or so it looked. Bright sunlight poured through the opening.

“An aspect, I guess,” Gene said.

“Oh, look at the walls,” Linda said.

The stone around them glowed faintly, emitting an ethereal blue light. The rumbling sound grew, and the floor became uncomfortable to stand on, transmitting nauseating vibrations up through the body.

“Let's get out of here,” Gene said.

They ran for the opening, dashed through, and came out into a jungle clearing.

The ground was motionless. Stopping, they looked around. Tall palms with scaly bark bordered the clearing, and dark green fronds grew within, a wide footpath cutting through them. A tropical sun warmed the heavy, moist air.

“Shashrackk vo hunnra nok,” Snowclaw said. “Ba nan irrikka vahnah damn unak valvalackk.”

Gene and Linda were staring at him.

“Huh?” Gene said. “Snowclaw, what did you say?”

“Bok?”

“What? Hey, wait a minute.” He beckoned for Snowclaw to follow, walked back to the portal and stepped across the boundary.

When the big white beast had stepped across, Gene said, “Now, what was that you were jabbering about?”

“I said, we ought to explore this place, I'm tired of that dreary old castle — that's what I said. What was all that noise you were making?”

“You can understand me now, right?”

“Sure.”

Gene walked a few paces forward, crossing the boundary. He turned and said, “What about now, when I'm standing on the other side of the interface?”

“Oh, I get it. You're outside the castle, so the spell is cancelled. Is that it?”

Gene walked back across the line.

“Huh?”

“Gonna be kinda hard to communicate.”

“You said it.”

“Yeah. What do you want to do?”

“I don't know. But I still want to get out of this cave.”

“Maybe we can work out some sign language,” Linda suggested.

“Sure, I guess,” Gene said.

“Let's go,” Snowclaw said. “I'll just keep my mouth shut.”

They left the corridor and walked down the well-worn path. As they neared the middle of the clearing, they found an intersecting trail, this one narrower. Snowclaw, in the lead, stopped to sniff the air, looking about, his pointed ears cocked.

Gene was pensively regarding the portal. It stood unsupported on the ground like a frameless life-size photograph. A fresh thought occurring to him, he walked back to it and stood at the interface, peering into the dim interior. A draft of cool air flowed out from the opening, carrying with it the musty smell of the castle. Gene walked to the right, coming to the edge of the portal, went beyond it and stepped behind the plane of the opening.

“Oh, hell.”

“What, Gene?” Linda's eyes searched around. “Gene! Where are you?”

“Behind the portal.”

Linda walked back to the opening, Snowclaw following.

“Where?”

“Behind. Go around and come back here.”

They did, walking around the portal as if it were a movie screen — one which, they found, had no thickness at all. Gene was standing a few feet from the juncture, peering into what looked like an identical aspect of the corridor they had just exited.

Gene left them, walking around to the front again, then returned shortly.

“I was expecting the damn thing to disappear when you went around it. But it doesn't. And this corridor is a mirror image of the other one. See that alcove on the left? It's on the right if you go around front.”

“Which means what?” Linda asked.

Gene stooped, searched the ground and found a pebble. Picking it up, he threw it through the portal. The stone ticked off the flagstone of the corridor floor, bounded a few times and skidded to a stop.

“It means Euclid's mother wore combat boots, but that's not news.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. I don't know what it means. Who comes out this way? And what happens if we go in? Or is this just another exit in another part of the castle?”