Castle Spellbound c-7

by John Dechancie

  "Your brother does not speak much of the land you hail from," Telamon said. "I have always been curious as to what it is like there."

  "It is bleak and drear, I'm afraid."

  "So? Like our land, somewhat. Nothing but rocks, mountains, thin soil-aside from the plains below, from which we eke a living. This is a poor land, really."

  "Yet Mykos seems affluent."

  "Yes, we are supposed to be rich in gold. And we have gold, but little more than any other city of importance. We make a great show of it to impress the farmers and shepherds. But our reputation for riches and high living is for the most part undeserved. We are a simple people."

  "Nevertheless I am very impressed with your city." This also pleased Telamon. "We like it. The gods have favored us. We owe it all to them."

  So far, so good, Trent thought.

  Telamon asked, "Are you aware that Menoetius visits us?"

  Trent thumbed through the file of names in the part of his mind that had been magically stuffed with data.

  "Brother to His Majesty, and King of Lakonis. No, I was not aware. I look forward to our meeting."

  "He does know Inkarnases, but not well. You are aware that it was Menoetius' request for aid that precipitated this crisis?"

  "Uh, yes. It was his wife, Queen Alena, who was abducted."

  "By Pelion, son of Proetus, King of Dardania. It is the scandal of all Arkadia." Telamon halted Trent with a gentle touch. He whispered, "And Menoetius' shame. The gossips have it that she went willingly after falling in love with Pelion the moment she set eyes on him. I needn't warn you to refrain from characterizing it as anything but a kidnapping in Menoetius' presence?"

  "You needn't. Inkarnases has briefed me."

  "I had assumed, but wanted to sound you out on the matter before your audience."

  "I understand," Trent said. "Perhaps you should test me further on my knowledge of things in general. I understand that the abduction precipitated the crisis. Menoetius appealed to Anthaemion, and the latter used his influence to forge the coalition against Dardania. This must be elementary to you, but all the information I have is raw and undigested. I am a complete stranger to your land."

  "I quite understand," Telamon said. "But your brother spoke so highly of your skills that I have every confidence that the finer points will become second nature to you before long. Besides, the situation at Piraeon-"

  "Pardon, where?"

  "Where the coalition fleet is anchored. As I say, the situation there is not good. Much disagreement."

  "So I have heard."

  "And so fortunately for you, and unfortunately for the strategic situation, we have more time than we want." They had come to a door flanked by two sets of three guards each, spears at their sides, except for the two nearest the door, who had theirs crossed. At the sight of the two men coming down the hall, they pulled back their weapons to permit entry.

  Telamon led Trent into a narrow vestibule and thence into the apartment beyond. It was a smaller version of the megaron, the great hall downstairs, but here the fire pit was blazing, and off to one side were two men in fine robes lounging on low recliners, eating an elaborate meal. The food was being served on gold dishes by a trio of female servants with dark braided hair, dressed in long layered gowns. All three were pretty. From decorated amphorae they poured thick syrupy wine into gold cups.

  The older of the two men was gray-bearded and corpulent, with deep-set dark eyes and a prominent nose. The younger man resembled him, but he was thinner, and his eyes were smaller and somehow less intelligent, though he had an intense look about him.

  Telamon stopped some distance away. Trent waited behind him. The men talked and ate. Presently the graybearded man looked up and nodded to Telamon. Telamon approached.

  "Majesty, may I present Trent, brother of Inkarnases." Trent stepped forward and bowed deeply.

  The gray-bearded one-presumably Anthaemion, King of Mykos-frowned. "Trent," he said as he picked his teeth with a fingernail. "Trent. Odd name."

  "May it please His Majesty."

  "It pleases me not that your brother has chosen to absent himself from my court during this crisis."

  Uh-oh, Trent thought. Had Inky underestimated or dissembled?

  "Uh, pressing business, Your Majesty. He said-

  "I know what he said. He is a most persuasive man. He said you would be the better military adviser. Is he right?"

  "I will serve His Majesty to the utmost limit of my talents."

  "If you're half as clever as your brother, you'll do fine. You've been informed of the details of our situation?"

  "Yes, sire."

  "Forces available, enemy tactics, that sort of thing?"

  "As much as Inkarnases knows, I know."

  "What he knows is considerable," the king said. "How he knows so much is a mystery to me, but I don't presume to understand the ways of sorcerers. We did not even possess an accurate map of the Dardanian coast until he divined one. I presume you are a magician also?"

  "I am, sire."

  "How good a one? Can you win this war for me by simply casting a spell?"

  "That would be a difficult way of going about it, sire. No one enchantment could take into account all the myriad contingencies."

  "That's what your brother said. I believe him. But you can cast spells to provide favorable conditions, facilitate the happy unfolding of events, forfend hexes and other dangers-all that?"

  "All that can be done, sire."

  The king nodded. "Good. We'll need every supernatural advantage. In addition to the favor of the gods."

  The king's brother spoke: "Surely the gods favor those who are wronged, as I have been."

  "No doubt," the king told him.

  The smell of herbs and spices came to Trent's nostrils: fennel, coriander, and others he couldn't identify. He hoped the food here wasn't too spicy. The stuff looked good, anyway. Both men continued eating as they talked.

  The king went on. "But it's not that simple, I'm afraid. There are gods, and there are gods. They divide and take opposite sides. Some no doubt favor our enemy. I myself have had disturbing dreams of late."

  Menoetius raised his eyebrows. "Oh? What dreams are these?"

  Anthaemion shook his head. "I cannot recount them clearly enough to make sense. I half-remember them. Perhaps, as time goes on, their import will be made clearer. But they are disturbing nonetheless."

  "This does not bode well."

  Anthaemion's brow lowered. "No. Some days I sit and brood, and it occurs to me that what we aim to do will not go well, that no good can come of it."

  "But our honor must be restored."

  The king half-smiled. "Our honor, brother?"

  "Pelion's outrage was an affront to all Arkadians!" Anthaemion popped a honeyed fig into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed before answering. "Of course, my brother. Of course. But there are other reasons why we must deal with the Dardanians. The price of grain rises every year, and we must import more every year. We need new fields to till, and there are none to have in this barren wilderness. The Dardanian coast has vast fertile plains lying fallow, waiting for the bite of the plow, but the Dardanians burn our colonies and kill our colonists, or take them prisoner. Niggardly of them, is it not? No, favorite brother, there are other good reasons for our attempting to rescue Alena from the clutches of the rapist Pelion."

  "Foul rapist and pirate. Whom I will first castrate, then rip his belly open for dogs to devour the guts, while I watch and enjoy. That is but a taste of what I will do to Pelion when I take Troas."

  The king chuckled. "You will reduce Troas alone, then?"

  Menoetius looked into his gold wine cup. "Not alone, no. But I will challenge Pelion to come out and face me. Alone."

  "Single combat settles nothing," Anthaemion said.

  "I demand the right."

  Anthaemion sighed. "As I suppose you must. Brave of you, my brother. Very brave."

  The king looked up at Trent again. "A
s you can see, there are many complications to this affair. I have not begun to mention them. Half our forces are at the other half's throat. Ancient enmities, old vendettas. It is the way of our people. Nevertheless, we are united in one single purpose, to destroy the Dardanians once and for all. And that we will, the gods willing. I would meet with you again, Trent. Tomorrow morning. My brother goes back to Piraeon then. Tomorrow you will tell me your ideas of how best to attack the Dardanian coast and where to deploy our armies to greatest advantage."

  Trent bowed. "Sire, I will be happy to do so."

  Right. Trent thought, all my brilliant ideas, of which I've come up with zero to date.

  "Meanwhile, dine and sleep. Take what slave girls you want to your bed. They seem to breed of late. More mouths to feed. Gods know how I got so many of them. You may go."

  Telamon and Trent bowed, then backed away.

  "I'll show you to your quarters," Telamon told him in the vestibule. "Very comfortable, with a view of the plains."

  Trent thought, Inky, I'm going to kill you one of these days. Just a matter of time.

  QUEEN'S DINING HALL

  "I say we split up into pairs and fan out," Dalton said as he stirred his coffee.

  "Not a bad idea," Gene said. "We only have to check 144,000 holes to see which one they might be coming through."

  "True, it's a huge job."

  "Though I suppose it's got to be done."

  "Right."

  "Because, even as we speak…"

  Three homunculi were busy sweeping up the dining room. As Gene and his friends watched, two more came in to help.

  "But he can't check every aspect," Thaxton said.

  "Let's hope we get lucky," Dalton said.

  "And what exactly is our plan when we do find the portal the little beggars are coming through?"

  Dalton shrugged and sipped his coffee.

  "I'll tell you what we do," Deena Williams said. "We get some bricks and mortar and wall up that damn hole."

  "A thought," Thaxton said.

  "It's spooky." Deena shivered.

  "No, we let Lord Incarnadine deal with them," Barnaby Walsh said.

  "How come he ain't dealin' with 'em now?"

  "Well, I don't know. I suppose-"

  "Hey, there she is," Deena said.

  Everyone looked up at Linda as she came walking over to the long dining table.

  "Hi, gang."

  "Linda, where you been?"

  "Following little strange critters."

  "So have we," Dalton said. "Did you happen to find out where they're coming from?"

  "Nope," Linda said, pouring herself some coffee. "Tried. They're all over the place."

  "Craziest thing," Deena said, shaking her head. "They give me the creeps."

  "Oh, they're cute, in a way," Linda said, watching one of them diligently sweep by.

  "Cute? They're disgustin', that's what they are."

  "Aw, not really. They remind me of Elmer Fudd."

  "I don't care if they look like Bugs Bunny. I want 'em outta here."

  "How many of them are there, do you think?" Thaxton asked of the group.

  "I counted hundreds," Linda said. "Hundreds and hundreds. No matter where I went, there they were."

  "There are very possibly thousands of them," Dalton said. "Even so, I don't think the castle's in any immediate danger. In any event, we really should inform Tyrene."

  "I saw him," Linda said. "Upstairs in the gymnasium, chasing the little devils around. He and some of the Guards. Until they gave up. There were over three hundred of them just in there."

  "They seem to be increasing geometrically," Dalton said.

  "And they don't say a word," Thaxton said. "Not a bloody word."

  "We'll see," Gene said, getting to his feet. One of the homunculi was sweeping a path toward him. He got in front of it.

  "Excuse me. Uh, say, little buddy… " It began to sweep a circle around him.

  "Yo! Hey, there. Have a minute?" Gene shifted position to block the diminutive creature's path.

  It turned and began to sweep in the opposite direction. Gene reached and grabbed the creature by the shoulder straps where they crossed at the back. The little fellow immediately went limp.

  Gene picked the thing up. "Doesn't weigh much at all."

  "Gene, be careful!" Linda said. "You might hurt it."

  "Not to worry."

  Gene gently lowered the creature to the floor and let go of the straps. After a moment, its head came up. Then it moved away from Gene, beginning its task once again, applying the broom quickly, methodically, sedulously.

  "Completely passive," Dalton said. "Can't see how they'd be any danger at all. Just a nuisance."

  "But what if they don't stop comin' through?" Deena demanded.

  "The castle's a big place," Dalton said. "We have some time yet before we're hip-deep in them."

  "Surely Incarnadine can deal with them," Thaxton said.

  Dalton asked Linda, "Have you seen him lately?"

  "I asked Tyrene if he'd told the king. He said he has men out trying to locate him."

  "He probably knows already," Thaxton said. "And is already dealing with the matter."

  "Maybe the king suddenly took off on one of his extended sojourns," Gene suggested.

  "He was at the party when I left," Linda said.

  "I saw him leave with Trent," Barnaby Walsh said.

  "That's right, he did," Dalton agreed.

  "I shouldn't think they went far," Thaxton said.

  "Hope not," Linda said.

  "But what if Incarnadine can't deal with these little guys?" Deena asked nervously.

  Heads turned as two more little guys with brooms entered the room.

  "Then I suppose we'll have to learn to live with them," Dalton commented.

  "Not me!" Deena said. "That happens, I'm pickin' an aspect an' puttin' my bod right through it. I ain't never comin' back."

  "We're hardly at that point yet," Thaxton said. "Don't fret."

  "Too late, I'm frettin' already."

  Gene said, "I say we take Cleve's suggestion. Split up and reconnoiter, report back here in, say, two hours."

  "We'll never find out where they're coming from," Deena said.

  "If we find areas of the castle where they aren't, that will whittle down the possibilities a bit. I can't believe they're all over the castle yet. They're coming from somewhere, and we should find out where that somewhere is."

  "What if the source isn't an aspect?" Dalton asked.

  Gene shrugged. "What are the other possibilities?"

  "Yes, where else could they be coming from?" Thaxton asked.

  Dalton thought about it for a moment. Then he said, "The castle itself."

  Gene nodded. "I guess it's possible."

  "Another version of castle instability," Dalton went on. "We've run into all kinds. Walls shaking, parts of the place disappearing. Remember the apparitions? Well, this may be another variety of them."

  "These critters seem a little too real," Linda said.

  "True," Dalton conceded.

  "Which is why we have to eliminate the possibility of another invasion," Gene said. "These guys could be the setup for a takeover."

  Thaxton laughed. "By tidying up? The invaders are sticklers for cleanliness, are they?"

  "Stranger things have happened in this castle," Dalton said.

  "Well, I'll admit anything's possible. But surely an invasion's out. I mean, I've heard of mopping up, but-"

  "We'd better get started," Gene urged. "The wider the dispersion gets, the harder it'll be to pinpoint the center of it."

  "Gene's right," Dalton said.

  "Thing is," Linda put in, "everywhere I went in the keep, there they were."

  "How far did you get?" Gene asked. "Pretty far into the west wing. Down about ten floors. Gene, they're probably all over the keep."

  Gene shook his head glumly. "Then we'll never find the hole they're pouring through."

 
; Dalton said, "But we really should give it a try, shouldn't we?"

  "Better to have a go at finding Incarnadine, maybe?" Thaxton suggested.

  Deena agreed. "Now there's an idea. And Trent, too. We're gonna need all the help we can get."

  "And Sheila," Linda said. "Speaking of super magicians. We might have to improvise until the king gets back, if he went anywhere."

  Dalton started to say, "Nevertheless, some of us-" Everybody cocked an ear.

  "What is it?" Deena asked. They all listened.

  Deena seemed annoyed. "Music?"

  The sound of a far-off drum grew closer. Accompanying a flute or pipe. The rhythm was exotic and infectious.

  "I hear music," Dalton confirmed.

  "Now what the hell is goin' on?" Deena despaired.

  "Whatever it is," Gene said, "it's coming this way. Pass the sugar, will you, Lord Peter?"

  Thaxton handed him the pewter sugar bowl. "Thank you."

  In a few moments the source was revealed. A belly dancer-an extremely shapely one-came shivering and shaking into the dining hall. Accompanying her were two musicians, a drummer and a piper, in vaguely Arabic dress.

  They proceeded to put on a show. Everybody watched. The woman whirled and clanged her finger cymbals, slinking up to the men and undulating suggestively. She danced twice around the table and then began to writhe and twirl out of the room, followed by the musicians.

  Linda watched with interest. "She's really good," was her comment to Gene.

  "Uh, yeah."

  "Beautiful woman!" Dalton enthused.

  "Uh, yeah," Gene said.

  "Very charming," Thaxton observed.

  "However do they do that-?" Dalton made motions in front of his stomach.

  "Diaphragm exercises," Thaxton said.

  Before the first dancer-musician troupe got to the door, another entered and began to repeat the whole routine, threading their way through the ever-growing clot of broomwielding homunculi. The group at the table sat and watched this performance as well, though a little less appreciatively.

  "Charming, absolutely charming," Thaxton remarked. "But you know, I'm beginning to get worried."

  "Housecleaning homunculi," Dalton pondered, drumming the table with his long fingers. "And belly dancers." He thought about it a while." Then he gave sigh. "Frankly, I don't see the connection.