“What’s that?”
“It’s energy that’s stuffed into the ‘space’ between the various universes. Acts as a buffer, keeps them from bumping into each other. Hard concept to grasp, really, because it’s really negative energy, which suddenly reverses polarity when you — well, never mind about that. Anyway, all I know is Ferne tried it, and something hit her and knocked her across the room. Out cold.”
Sheila grimaced. “Sounds dangerous.”
“It was. It is. But she survived. She always does —”
Trent stared off abstractedly for a long moment.
Sheila let him brood. Presently he came back.
“Yeah. She could do a lot of things. I don’t know about traveling, but she could cast spells in one universe and have them work in another.”
Sheila was impressed. “That’s real magic.”
“She was in a league all her own. I don’t know that she was as good as Incarnadine. I don’t know that anyone is.” Trent threw the seashell away. “Except maybe me.”
Sheila smiled. “I believe it.”
“Thanks. Actually, at the risk of sounding immodest, when you get into — well, when you start talking about magic at this level, our level — the family’s — it’s more a matter of style than anything. Each magician brings a certain unique talent to his work. For instance, I can tell Incarnadine’s hand by a certain feeling I get when one of his spells is brewing. It’s like a smell, or may be even a taste. But it’s unmistakable. His spells have his signature stamped all over them.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Same with Ferne. Same with you, for that matter, or anyone who practices the recondite arts. Every artist has his own style.”
“I’ve never thought of myself as an artist.”
“You’re a damned good one, if a little inexperienced. But you were coming along very nicely.”
“Until I hit this place.”
Trent looked at the sky, the sea, and the sand. “Yes.” He sighed. “Right. This world is very problematical. It’s flat, magically speaking. No spark in the air. No vibes. Nothing.”
“Maybe it’s more subtle than we realize.”
“Very subtle. All worlds have magic.”
“Do they really?”
“Yes, to some extent. Some more than others. This one has it, make no mistake. But they must be keeping it in cookie jars.”
Sheila laughed, leaned over and kissed him.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Tell you what. We’ll have lunch at our favorite restaurant —”
“The breadfruit tree.”
“Right, and afterward we’ll go for a stroll. It’s about time we circumnavigated this island, see what’s on the other side.”
“Maybe there’s a lagoon. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”
“Great for fishing. But this looks like a volcanic island. Lagoons usually happen in coral formations.”
“You know a lot about a lot of things.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve had a subscription toReader’s Digest for fifty years.”
Trent’s guess was right. Coming around the curving shore, they were greeted by the sight of a huge volcano rising from an island that lay just on the horizon. Ash-gray and forbidding, the cone topped off at two thousand feet, as nearly as Trent could estimate.
“Extinct, maybe?” Sheila asked.
“Dormant. I dunno. I can’t see any vegetation on that island. That worries me.”
“It looks dead.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Access inland was better here, grassy slopes rising gradually from the beach to an eroded peak in the center of the island. They even discovered a cave. It was full of bats and not fit for habitation.
But there was a lagoon, after all, rather a cove, a rock-rimmed pocket of calm water, good for swimming and, very likely, fishing, if some sort of tackle could be improvised.
“Or a net,” Trent mused.
“That’d be hard.”
“You braid vines, strips of sapling, make rope. Then you make a net. Hard? You bet, but South Sea islanders do it all the time.”
“Think I’d look good in a sarong, or maybe a grass skirt?”
“You look fine the way you are now, but we’ll be needing clothes sooner or later.”
“I was cold last night,” she said. “A little bit, until you covered me.”
“Only proper thing to do under the circumstances. We’ll have to find a source of fresh water, of course, but right now I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t move to this side. Better food supply, shelter from the open sea, inland route, and other advantages, probably, that I haven’t noticed yet. We’ll put our house up on that knoll over there. Be a good observation point.”
She laughed. “You’ve got this all figured out, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “We must make do, somehow. We might be here for a spell.”
“I’m glad we’re together, Trent.”
He gathered her in and held her close.
“I’m extremely glad of that myself. Cold again?”
“No, just hold me. Tight.”
He did, then they lay down together on the soft bed of the beach.
Nineteen
Long Island
Chico’s was busy that night, the dance floor a scrummage of writhing humanity. Snowclaw couldn’t get over the noise in the place. It had taken some getting used to. He didn’t quite understand what all the thumping and screeching was about, though he knew it had something to do with music. And the dancing was completely incomprehensible. Snowy took it to be some complex courting ritual. But what did the flashing lights have to do with anything?
It didn’t matter. His job was to look after things. Check for proper dress; no jeans, no tennis shoes, no generally sloppy outfits. Chico’s had to be a “class act,” was Nunzio’s way of putting it. The other host, Dave, checked the little cards that the young ones held out that supposedly proved they were old enough to be admitted to these adult doings.
Snowy’s proper job was throwing the drunks out. That had only happened once since he started. A bartender refused to serve a customer who had glugged a little too much swill, and the customer got a little rowdy. (Interesting sidelight here: the bartender was actually worried that the guy might go out and wreck his metal wagon and get real ticked off at the bartender for giving the guy exactly what he was screaming for — more swill!) Snowclaw had followed directions to the letter. First he was polite, then firmly insistent. When that didn’t work, he picked the guy up, carried him out into the parking lot, and threw him in the dumpster.
That was pretty funny, Dave had told him, but basically it was overreacting.
Snowy didn’t know about that. The guy had been pretty nasty. Besides, all that happened was the little creep got his pride wounded. Snowy wouldn’t think of actually hurting any of these hairless humans. They were all so soft and squishy.
For all of that, though, they were feisty little devils. Like the guy he threw out, coming back with a policeman in tow, demanding that Snowy be arrested. The policeman heard Snowy’s story, then told the guy to forget it. Then the guy started giving the cop all kinds of grief, so the cop and his partner beat the compost out of the little twerp and threw him in their metal wagon, which he didn’t have to drive.
Feisty little devils.
Oh, he forgot the one incident where the female threw a glass of stuff into her mate’s face. Something about the female walking into the place and finding this guy cavorting with another female in a dark corner. She got upset at this behavior. Why, exactly, Snowy didn’t know. Apparently humans were supposed to keep to one mate at a time. But, then, what were all these females doing out on the floor making sexual movements with all these different males? He’d seen females doing it with male partner after male partner, and vice versa. Snowy didn’t understand, but he supposed there was some rationale behind it all. He didn’t expect it to make a
ny sense, and in any event he didn’t care much.
The apartment above the joint was uncomfortable until Dave showed him a way to turn the heat off. Dave had done it, but had given Snowy a funny look.
“The heat really gets to me,” Snowy explained. “I come from a cold place.”
“Yeah, but it’s February, f’crissakes. Where you from, the North Pole?”
“Nope.”
“Where, then? Canada?”
“Uh … yeah, Canada.”
“A Canuck, huh? Glad to have you in the USA. C’mon, I’ll show you how to work the videotape. You like porno flicks? Nunzio distributes them.”
Now, these were interesting. He had always wondered about the mechanics of it. Basically the same, except that the male didn’t keep the eggs for a while, like back home. Well, actually, there weren’t any eggs to speak of. There was just sort of doing it, and that was it. Ordinarily he didn’t like to criticize, but the male’s equipment being exposed all the time like that — that was dumb, it seemed to him. And dangerous! Amazing. Funny, too, was the fact that there didn’t seem to be any particular time of year for this sort of stuff. Everybody just rutted away like crazy, no matter what the weather. At the drop of a snowshoe.
Different world, different ways of doing things. That was the way you had to look at it. It didn’t bear thinking about too much. Besides, he had other problems.
Like contacting Linda, somehow. He knew how to work a telephone now, but he didn’t have a number to call. As for begging help, he couldn’t very well ask too many questions, or he’d be thought mighty strange, if he wasn’t already. Somebody had told him, “Dial Information,” and had given him a number, but that was no help at all.
“What city?”
“Um … I don’t know. I’ve been there, but I really don’t know where it is.”
“Sorry, sir, I have to know what city.”
“Well, what cities are there?”
“Pardon, sir?”
“What cities do you have?”
“Sir, I can check the New York metropolitan area for you.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“What name?”
“Linda.”
“Last name, sir?”
“Oh. Uh, Bar … Bar something. Barkey. Bar-kay.”
“Spell that?”
“What?”
“Can you spell that for me, sir?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“One moment, sir…. Sir, checking the New York metropolitan area, I find no listing for a Linda Barkey, or Bar-kay. I do have an L. Barcus on West Forty-seventh Street in Manhattan.”
“No, I want Linda. Uh, never mind. Thanks.”
Click.
Well, that was that. Of course, he could just start walking again, but that sure as heck wouldn’t do much good. Halfway House was a good hike, he knew that.
And most of all … Great White Stuff, was he hungry!
Human food just didn’t make it. He could eat the stuff, but … gods, it was like eating water. Nothing to it, no taste.
It would be a real embarrassment if someone caught him guzzling drain cleaner and eating bath soap, as he had taken to doing of late. The soap was nothing, but the drain goop packed a real punch. Good stuff.
Dave had looked real puzzled when Snowy came home with a grocery bag filled with paraffin wax candles and ten bottles of Thousand Island dressing. That got Snowclaw worried.
But apparently there wasn’t any real cause for concern, because Dave told him that Nunzie had a new job for him.
“There’s a truck with contraband goin’ to Pittsburgh. You’re ridin’ shotgun. Nunzie likes you. Thinks you’re doin’ real good.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s a milk run. Cigarettes, that’s all it is.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. They come up from the South. You know, without tax stamps on ’em? Then we ship ’em all over. We make two hundred percent profit. Even at that, it’s peanuts, really, but it’s part of the family business.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah. If you do good, Nunzie might put you on with the cash crop shipments. You know, the coke, the smoke, and the poke?”
“Uh-huh.”
Dave smiled and thumped him on the back. “You’re okay, Snowy. A little strange, but okay.”
“Uh-huh.”
Twenty
Castle
“Man, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this place,” Jeremy said, walking with Linda down a dim corridor. He had no idea where he was.
“Sure you will. It took me a couple of months before I got to know my way around. But when I did, everything was fine. The place feels like home now.”
In passing, Jeremy peered into a dark embrasure and got the vague sense that something big and sinister stood watching within. Of course, he got that feeling all the time around here. When would he stop jumping at every shadow? Back in the real world, it could always be said that there was really nothing to be afraid of. A dark place was just that, a dark place. Here, though … wow. There were spooks here. Real ones.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think it’s gonna take me a long time.”
“Fiddlesticks. You’ll be a veteran in no time, with your talent — whatever it is.”
“Yeah, I wish I knew what it is, too.”
“Did you guys try running spells through your computer?”
“No, we never got that far. It sounded interesting, though. The funny thing is …” He heaved his shoulders.
Linda looked at him sideways. “Yeah?”
“Well, it’s weird. I just keep getting these strange feelings when I run programs. You know, just fooling around, like I usually do. Trying different things.”
“What kind of feelings?”
“I can’t put a name to them. I feel … good. No. Well, powerful. Like I can do anything. All sorts of new possibilities. It just feels good.” Jeremy scratched his head. “I can’t explain it.”
Linda pursed her lips and gave a knowing nod. Then she said, “Sounds like something’s brewing, all right.”
They had almost come to the wide arched entrance of the Queen’s dining room.
“Geez, how did you find your way back?” Jeremy asked.
“Just a sixth sense you get. Hungry? I don’t know what else there is to do, not until —”
“Lady Linda?”
A servant approached. It was a young page.
“Hi!” Linda said. “Are you new around here?”
“Yes, milady. Lord Incarnadine wishes to see you.”
“Boy, that was quick. Lead on.”
“This way, milady.”
“C’mon, Jeremy.”
The boy led them down a long hallway, then up a flight of stairs. When they reached the landing, there came a high, insistent beeping, as from some electronic device.
“What’s that?” Linda said.
“Huh?” Jeremy looked down. “Hey. It’s my computer.”
He knelt, cracked open the case, and flipped up the readout screen.
“Hey.”
“What does it say?” Linda asked.
“It reads ‘Extreme Danger.’“ Jeremy looked up. “What’s going on?”
“You’re asking me? It’s your gizmo.”
Bewildered, Jeremy shook his head. “It’s not supposed to do that. I had it shut off. And besides, there’s nothing running except the operating system, and that’s —” He closed the case. “This is getting too weird.”
Linda looked around. “Tell the truth, I’m getting a strange feeling, too.”
They both looked at the page.
“Where are you taking us?” Linda asked him.
The page appeared a trifle edgy. “To Lord Incarnadine, milady.”
“Where is he at the moment?”
“With the chamberlain, milady.”
“In Jamin’s quarters?”
“Yes, milady.”
“You l
ook worried about something. Are you sure you’re not fibbing?”
“No, milady. I mean, yes, milady!”
Linda chewed her lip, then said, “I can’t believe you. Something’s wrong, and I want to know what it is.”
The page’s eyes darted about in desperation.
“Well?” Linda said. “I’m waiting.”
The page spun round and dashed away, vanishing into darkness, his footsteps echoing.
Jeremy whistled. “What got into him?”
Linda’s forehead creased into a worried frown. “I should have made him talk.”
“How?”
“Conjured a dozen monkeys to tickle him to death. Set nasty spiders and things all over him. No end of ways.” She sighed. “But he’s just a kid, and I couldn’t do it.”
“Should have,” Jeremy said. “He was lying through his teeth.”
“I know. Something’s up.” Linda fingered the handle of the dagger that hung from her belt. “Jamin. I wonder if he knows —?”
The floor began to heave, and they both dropped to ride out the disturbance. This time, however, the convulsions did not want to stop.
The walls became rubbery, shivering and quaking. The ceiling dropped, and the corridor changed dimensions. The stairway dematerialized, replaced by a vaulted chamber with no outlet. Partitions appeared out of nowhere, sliding down and rising back up again like backdrops in a theater.
Gradually the convulsive transformations ceased. Linda got up cautiously, then brushed off her tunic and the knees of her tights.
“That was bad. Worse than before.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said in awe. His throat had gone completely dry. He coughed and swallowed hard. “What’s happening?”
“Whatever the problem is with the universes, it’s not getting any better.”
“What universes are we talking about?”
“The universes of the castle. I’m not the one to ask about all that. I’ve never really understood it.” Linda thought for a moment. “Well, yes, I do understand it, but intuitively, I guess. Something’s wrong with the delicate balance between the universes. Since the castle is the focal point, it’s feeling the worst of the effects.”
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