Without answering, Chalmers waved his hand at the doors, which swung open smoothly. They were looking at the backs of a pair of Arab-dressed musicians squatting on the floor, one blowing into a tootle-pipe, the other slowly tapping with his fingertips a drum about four inches in diameter. Beyond, a slinky dark girl in gauzy drapes revolved in the paces of a slow dance.
Beyond her again a dozen or more men were visible in the dim light of more oil lamps, dressed in bright Oriental costumes that seemed to have been specially spotted with grease for the occasion. Sprawled upon cushions, they gazed at the dancer with unsmiling, languid interest, exchanging a word from time to time, and looking toward the farther end of the room, as though to take their cue from the man who sat there. He was bigger than the biggest of them, with the figure of a wrestler. His young face bore strong lines, but just now it showed a sulky, petulant expression. A dapper little graybeard, like a brown mouse, was whispering something into his ear to the accompaniment of fierce gestures.
He glanced up at the sound of the visitors’ feet on the floor and trotted toward them. He bowed low before Chalmers. “The peace of God be with you.” He bowed again. “Who be these lords?” He bowed a third time.
Chalmers returned one of the bows. “Let no less peace be with you, most magical lord of Carena. These are—uh—lords of my own country. Sir Harold de Shea, and the esquire Vaclav Polacek.”
“Oh, day of good luck!” exclaimed Atlantès de Carena, bobbing up and down like a ship in a storm. “O day of Allah’s grace that has brought two mighty lords of the Franks for these poor eyes to feast upon!” Bow. “Doubtless it is by some error that you have come to so poor a hovel, but in that error I am honored.” Bow. “Ho! Let the best rooms be swept out and new ceremonial garments be prepared for Sir Harold de Shea and the squire Vaclav, for these be veritably the bringers of benisons.” Bow.
Shea and Polacek kept up with the first two or three bows, but gave it up as the pace threatened to make them dizzy. Apparently satisfied that he had achieved something, the little brown man took each by the hand and led them around the circle where introductions and bows were repeated as though each man they encountered could not have heard what was said to the rest. There were Lord Mosco, the Amir Thrasy, Sir Audibrad—this last one in medieval European doublet and hose, without turban—and two or three more. In the intervals Polacek kept twisting his head to watch the dancer, until, at or about the third introduction, Atlantès noticed.
“You desire this handmaid, noble lord?” he said. “By Allah, she is worth not less than a hundred pieces of gold, but you shall have her to your concubine, provided only that our Roger, for whom all things are done, puts not his claim upon her. And you will find her a pearl unpierced—a filly unridden, a gem—”
Polacek’s face was reddening. “Tell him no!” whispered Shea fiercely. “We can’t afford to get mixed up in anything.”
“But—”
“Tell him no.”
Atlantès’ eyes were fixed on them, and there seemed to be an expression of amusement behind the wispy beard. “Listen,” said Polacek, “I’ll talk to you about it later. Since I’m just new here, I’d like to see some more of your castle before—enjoying your—uh—hospitality. And—uh—thanks anyway, your lordship.”
“Hearing is obedience.” His lordship led the way to the cushion that supported the sulky youth. “And here is the light of the world, the arm of Islam, the perfect paladin and cavalier of Carena, Roger.”
The perfect paladin gave a bored grunt. “More Franks?” he said to Atlantès. “Are they of better omen than that red-haired wench whom the Frankish enchanter laterly brought?” Shea stiffened and his heart gave a thump. However, the light of the world was addressing him. “Are ye the new tumbling jugglers my uncle promised? Though my heart is straightened, yet may it find ease in witnessing your tricks.”
Shea looked at him coldly down his long nose. “Listen, funny-face, I’ve been made a knight by a better man than you are, and I don’t like the way you talk about the ‘red-haired wench’. If you’ll come outside, I’ll show you a few tricks.”
Roger, surprisingly, broke into a smile of pure amiability. “By the beard of the Prophet (whom God sustain),” he said, “I had not thought to find a Frank so generous. For months have I slain no man, and my muscles rot from lack of practice. Let us then to the hand-play!”
“Lords! Light of my eyes! Coolth of my heart!” Atlantès bubbled. “You have no need of another death and know well that a doom lies on it that there be none in this castle, and more, these be my noble lords and guests, fellow—magicians, for whose life I would give my own. Come, sirs, let me show you to your quarters, which, though they be but pallets in a corner, are yet as good as Carena can offer. ‘Take what I have,’ said the Hajji, ‘though it be but half a barley-cake.’ ”
He clucked on ahead of them like a motherly hen. The “pallets” in a corner turned out to be rooms the size of auditoriums, elaborately hung with silks and furnished with inlaid wood. The rivetheads protruding from the iron plates of the walls and ceiling, however, reminded Shea of the interior of a warship.
Atlantès was soothing. “Coffee shall be brought you, and new garments. But in the name of Allah, magical sirs, let the voice of friendship avert the hand of disputation, and be not angry with the kinsman of your friend. Ah, lovely youth!” he brushed a hand past his eyes, and Shea was surprised to see a drop of genuine moisture glistening on it. “The glory of Cordova. I sometimes wonder that the perfumed Hamman bath does not freeze in despair of emulating such beauty. Would you credit it that such a’ one could think more on blood than on the breasts of a maiden?”
He bowed half a dozen times in rapid succession and disappeared.
Three
“For the love of Mike, Harold!” said Polacek, eyeing the voluminous robes with distaste. “Are we supposed to wear these nightshirts?”
“Why not? When in Rome, eat spaghetti. Besides, if you want to give any of the damsels around here the eye, you’ll have to be in fashion.”
“I suppose . . . That little wizard’s a smart guy. Say, what’s this, a scarf?”
Shea picked up a long red strip of textile. “I think it’s your turban,” he said. “You have to wind it around your head, something like this.”
“Sure I get it,” replied Polacek. He whipped his own turban around with nonchalant speed. Naturally it came apart in festoons around his neck, and another try yielded no better result. Shea’s own more useful procedure stayed on but settled itself firmly in concealment of one ear, and with a tail that tickled his chin. Polacek laughed and made a face. “Guess we’ll have to call for a tailor or wait till they dish out some real hats.”
Shea frowned. “Look here, Votsy, take it easy, will you? You’ll simply have to be less cocky around a place like this if you don’t want to get all our throats cut.”
Polacek jagged up an eyebrow. “Hairbreadth Harry telling me not to be so cocky? Getting married has made a different man out of you, all right. Speaking of which, what are the rules around this joint? I’d like to take Atlantès up on his offer and pitch a little woo at that dancer. She’s built like—”
The door was flung open with a clang by a man whose hairy, pendulous-eared head bore a startling identity to that of a Newfoundland dog. Without giving time for stares, he barked: “Lord Roger!” and stood aside to let the perfect paladin and cavalier stride in. Shea noticed he moved surprisingly light for so big a man. He would be a dangerous antagonist.
“Oh, hello,” he greeted the visitor coolly.
Polacek added: “Say, I’m a stranger here myself, but do you always walk in doors without knocking?”
“The lord is lord of his own saloons,” said Roger, as though his name were Hohenzollern. He turned toward Shea. “It has reached me, oh man, that you are of knightly order, and I may without shame or hindrance take on myself the shedding of your blood. Yet since I am a warrior experienced, a person of prowess, it would be no more th
an just did I not offer to handicap myself, as by bearing no armor while you go armored in this combat when the wizards have lifted the death-doom from the castle.”
If he had had the épée which served him so well in Faerie Shea would have returned the offer. Instead, he bowed: “Thanks. Nice of you. Tell me—do I understand that Atlantès is your uncle?”
“There is no other way to it.” Roger tapped delicate fingers over a yawn. “Though he is rather like a grandmother, an old nanny with one eye, who holds all here from high sports or unmannerly diversions. Yet even this may be overcome if there be one with a will to warlike valor, who yet knows some of the placing and lifting of spells.”
Shea was conscious of being keenly watched from behind the mask of boredom, and began to understand the purpose of the big man’s visit, but it would not do to commit oneself too soon. He said: “Uh—huh. Say, tell me what’s going on, will you? Sir Reed says Atlantès is worried about something. Are you expecting an attack by the Christian knights?”
“Ha! Christian knights I fear not, though it be all twelve paladins together.” He flexed his muscles. “But of ifrits and enchantments know I nothing, and there is little joy here for any since the Duke Astolph stole the Atlantès’ hippogriff.”
Shea stood still, his eyes boring into Roger. “By the way, what was it that you were saying about a red-headed girl?”
Roger failed to notice the elaborate casualness of the question. “There is no glory but in Allah: it was but a few days since, during the time when Lord Dardinell was with us, when Atlantès and the other wizard, your friend, colluded to effect some great spell, with burnings and groans of evil spirits. There was nothing for it but that they must fetch from some far place this wench of ill-omen; well shaped, but unwomanly in garb, a huntress; and having red hair, which of all things more surely foretells some disaster, of which I fear the loss of the hippogriff is but the beginning. Have you met this unlucky one before?”
“My wife,” said Shea.
“In the name of Allah! Are there no damsels of good augury in your land, that you must company with such a’ one? Doubtless she brought you a great dowry.”
Without arguing the point Shea rushed on: “Has anything been heard of her since she left the castle?”
“It has reached me that one of the hunters saw her afoot in the mountains with Duke Astolph, a conjunction which brings a dread like midnight on the heart of my uncle, though what it may mean he knows not.”
“Who’s Duke Astolph, by the way?”
“Allah forgive your ignorance! He is one of the twelve whom the Christians (may they be accursed!) call paladins; yet a doughty fighter, to whom I look for the best of sport when I may measure blows with him, though he comes from an island far in the north, where it is so chill that men’s faces turn blue, even though they be Franks.”
Polacek asked: “Say, Roger, if you dislike Christians so much, how come you’re wearing a Christian name?”
The perfect paladin went into such a grimace that for a moment Shea thought he was going to hit Votsy, but then Roger seemed to restrain himself with an effort. “Not for your question, which is the rudeness of a dog which lacks stripes,” he said, “but to the good will of this knight who has offered me the sacrifice of his blood, will I answer. Learn, oh unguided one, that we of Carena are of too noble spirit to engage ourselves in the quarrels of princes, but seek honor under whatever banners may offer it, so that if the battle be hot, it matters not whose name it be fought in.” Roger gave a snort, and looked at Polacek with unexpected keenness. “What said you but now of the slave-girl who danced for our entertainment?”
“Well,” said Polacek, “Atlantès had—uh—made me an offer—very generous of him, I thought, and I was just saying that maybe for politeness I ought to take him up—”
“Enough, base-born,” said Roger. “Learn that this castle and all in it were builded to my pleasure, and if it be my pleasure to take the damsel to concubine, there is no help for it but I must do so.” He growled “Peace of God,” and strolled out. The dog-headed man pulled the door to behind him.
Shea looked at the door. “You see, Votsy? Monkeying with guys like that is like telling Al Capone you don’t like the color of his tie. Now let’s get into those clothes and go see Doc. I noticed he solved the turban trouble and maybe he can help us.”
He led the way down to Chalmers’ apartment. The doctor was puttering away, changing cheerfully:
“We’ve a first-class assortment of magic;
And for raising a posthumous shade
With effects that are comic or tragic,
There’s no cheaper house in the trade.
Love philter—we’ve quan—
“What can I do for you, Harold?”
“These confounded cummerbunds.” Shea watched as the doctor took Polacek’s and adjusted it with quick, expert fingers, then began winding his own. “Look here, Roger says Belphebe’s somewhere in the mountains around here. You’re got to get me out of this place to look for her.”
Chalmers frowned. “I fail to see the necessity for any immediate departure,” he said. “The young woman impressed me as being admirably fitted to—uh—take care of herself. A perfect case of conjoined biological and psychological adaptation. And it would be most inopportune for you to leave at the present moment. We must look for the—uh—better manner of serving our united interests, and I am at present confronted with a serious problem—”
“Oh, Votsy can stay here and take care of her,” said Shea.
“Vaclav is a bright young man, but I am afraid he is inclined toward irresponsibility,” said Chalmers firmly, ignoring Polacek’s squawk of protest. “Also, he has a—uh—deplorable weakness for the fair sex, not to mention that he lacks training in the most elementary details of magic. You, therefore, are the only person upon whom I can rely at present.”
Shea grinned ruefully. “Okay,” he said. “You knew you could get me with that argument. But you’ll have to help me find Belphebe as soon as things are cleared up here.”
“I shall be glad to help as far as I can, Harold, as soon as we have reasonable assurance of success in humanizing Florimel.”
Shea turned his head to conceal the sparkle in his eye. Knowing how mulish Chalmers could get, he didn’t attempt to argue. But he was a trained psychologist too, and he suspected it would transpire that he could best assist the transformation of Florimel at a distance from Castle Carena.
Polacek said: “Listen, you two. I might as well be some use around here. Why not show me how this magic works?”
“I had planned a series of talks on the subject,” said Chalmers. “We will begin with the basic concepts, such as the distinction between sympathetic magic and sorcery. . . .”
“How about teaching me a couple of good stiff spells right now? Something I can use? You can get around to the heavy theory later, and I’ll understand it better if I know the practical application.”
“That would be unsound pedagogy,” said Chalmers. “You should be aware that I am not one of those so-called progressivists who believes that the pupil absorbs best material presented in an unsystematic and confusing manner.”
“But—but—I got a reason—”
“Yeah?” said Shea. “What’s going on in that object you use for a brain, Votsy?”
“That’s my business.”
“No tell, no spell.”
“Vaclav!” said Chalmers, in a monitory tone.
Polacek struggled with conflicting impulses for a few seconds. “It’s that little dame,” said he. “The dancer. Of course, ordinarily I wouldn’t care—” (here Shea laughed raucously) “—not having really met her, but I won’t stand for that big oaf telling me what to do. I thought if you gave me a couple off spells I could put on him—”
“No!” cried Shea and Chalmers together. The doctor said: “We are, I think, involved in—uh—sufficient difficulties already without further complicating our situation. I really do not know, for instance,
how to avoid Atlantès’ importunities with regard to the death-doom on the castle.”
“The big guy mentioned something about that,” said Polacek. “What is it?”
“It appears that at some time a spell was put upon this structure, I would conjecture when it was erected. The general effect is that if a killing should be performed within it, the building will collapse, though I will not weary you with the details, which are fantastically complicated. While I would normally be most willing to assist Atlantès, it now occurs to me that should this doom be lifted, our friend Roger will no longer be restrained from cutting you or Harold into fragments by way of sword-practice. “
Shea muttered: “I’m not afraid of that stupid ox. I’ll bet that all he knows is sabre-practice, if he knows that much.”
“Perhaps not. Nevertheless, I should provide myself with a weapon. It would be most regrettable if our friendly association came to a sanguinary end. Moreover, permit me to remind you that as a married man you have incurred certain—uh—responsibilities.”
Shea subsided, feeling guilty over having forgotten for some minutes that he was a married man.
“I still think you ought to teach me a couple of spells,” said Polacek. “I won’t turn Roger into a mud-turtle or anything like that, I promise, but I ought to have enough to protect myself.”
“The amount of knowledge you could acquire so hastily would be of little value for self-protection,” said Chalmers firmly. “The course will be imparted as I have outlined.”
Polacek jumped up. “You two give me a pain. I’m going to see Atlantès. Maybe he knows a trick or two.” He stormed out, banging the door metallically.
Shea looked at Chalmers with concern on his long face. “Say, Doc, maybe I better go sit on his head, don’t you think? He almost got into a jam with Roger already.”
Chalmers shook his head. “I doubt whether Atlantès will impart enough magical information to enable our hasty young friend to—uh—jeopardize our safety, or for that matter, whether Vaclav can cause any particular damage in that quarter. In fact, it might be just as well if our host were allowed to gather the somewhat unfavorable impression of your—uh—characters that he is bound to form from contact with our associate. Now if you will lend a hand with this athanor, I shall finish compounding this mixture and we can retire for the night.”
The Complete Compleat Enchanter Page 28
