Castle for Rent (11 page)

Deena was standing near the spot where the floating window had been, but there was no chance of her escaping. The aperture now hung a good ten feet off the ground. Apparently it had drifted.

Four of the creatures had her encircled, and several more were stalking into position to do the same to him. There was nowhere to run, even if he could have run, which was hardly his strong suit.

“Deena?” he called in a tremulous voice.

“Yeah,” she answered. “We in deep shit now, baby."

 

 

 

164 East 64st Street

He was doodling with some field incantations that were proving especially thorny when he noticed a blob of light dancing in mid-air a little to the right of the dinette table. He recognized it for what it was, and answered the “Are you receiving visitors?” query by tracing a simple pattern with his finger.

The blob of light wafted closer, drifting over the carpet. It stopped and grew brighter, suddenly unfolding and spreading out to take the shape of a human figure, that of a beautiful woman.

“Hi, Ferne."

“Incarnadine.” His sister's greeting came with a cheery smile.

He sat back and took her in. She was as pretty as ever, dark of eye and delicate of face, her hair a dark waterfall spilling to her shoulders. She wore a crimson velvet gown, ornamented in gold filigree. The garment left her shoulders bare. Her skin was very white, very pure, totally unblemished. There were wild highlights in her eyes, and over them an ironic, skeptical downturn to her brow.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“The castle. Deems told me where you are, and I can scarcely believe it."

“It's about time somebody did something about re-establishing the gateway to Earth."

“Yes, it was long overdue,” she said.

“I haven't done it yet, though."

“No?” One dark eyebrow rose. “But you're close?"

“Another few days. The problems have been tricky, but I think I have most of them solved."

“Good. Then we'll be seeing you soon."

“I hope. You said Deems told you. Were you in Albion?"

“Yes, I just happened to drop into my estate there. I'm having the house remodeled, and I had to consult with the master carpenter."

“Odd. Deems appeared to be unaware of your having any permanent residence in Albion."

“Is he? He should be aware. I've never made any secret of it. But, then, I rarely tell Deems my business. May I sit down?"

“I'm terribly sorry. I'd offer you a chair—” He smiled. “—But of course, you're not really here."

“Don't trouble yourself.” She reached out and made as if to grasp something, pulling it near. She lowered herself to a sitting position. What she sat on was completely invisible. She arranged the folds of her gown and leaned back. “There. Now we can have a nice chat. As I was saying, my estate isn't exactly in Deems' kingdom, it's in the Protectorate of Westphalen—next door. These days it's only nominally a protectorate, and Deems has little power there, aside from receiving an annual tribute. I've had the place for years, and I don't visit as often as I'd like."

“How did Deems find you?"

She shrugged. “I don't know. I got a message from him by special courier this morning. The note said you had requested that I call you immediately on the Universal Projector. It sounded important, so I threw a few things in a bag and got to the portal as fast as I could. And here I am, back at the castle and on the line to you, just as you requested. What's all the fuss?"

“I'm afraid Deems made it sound more urgent than it really was. I merely wanted to talk with you, Ferne."

“Well, I'm delighted, of course, and it's been much too long since we last had a nice, cozy chat....” She batted her long eyelashes at him. “But there must be a little more to it than that."

“A bit more, I have to admit. Before I get to it, do you mind if I slide a chair under your image? I find it strangely unsettling to have unsupported bodies levitating about."

“Feel free."

He got up and fetched a dinette chair, positioning it so that it looked convincing in the part. “That's a little better,” he said, resuming his seat. “Now, what I wanted to ask you is this. Somebody's been fooling around at the castle. Is it you?"

Her face remained expressionless for a moment. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Inky, the word ‘blunt' was invented for you. That's always been your favorite tactic, hasn't it? You always lay your cards right on the table. No bluffing, no subtlety, nothing."

“Yes, at first. When the tactic fails, as it usually does, then I get sneaky."

“Yes, I've noticed over the years that this is your usual opening gambit. But why, if it usually avails you nothing?"

“I didn't say it availed me nothing. I can get a lot out of reactions. I like to read them, weigh them. The emotional overtones to any reaction, however insincere or pretended, are always very interesting. And very informative."

“Really? Fascinating. And
my
reaction—just now?"

“Oh, very interesting indeed."

She smiled. “And informative, I hope."

“That laugh spoke volumes."

The smile faded. She seemed concerned. “And what did it tell you?"

He crossed his legs, chuckling.

She frowned. “I think you're making it all up.” She studied his face. “Yes, you're bluffing. Making me think you have one up on me already, and we haven't even really begun to bargain."

“Bargain? Are we at odds, in some way?"

She lifted her delicate shoulders. “Haven't we always been?"

He considered it, nodding. “Well, yes, it does seem to me that we've butted heads one or two times over the years. Just why, I can't imagine, because I've never had anything but the fondest regards for you, dear sister."

“And I for you, dear brother.” Her expression hardened. “Now let's cut the crap and get down to business."

He laughed. “I really didn't know we had any business.” He laughed again. “I suppose I can totally discount the first two minutes of this conversation. All that stuff about getting a message, coming to the castle. What exactly have you been up to, Ferne?"

She sat up and looked straight at him. “Never mind that. Listen to me. Your castle has been invaded. Successfully, I might add. What remains of your Guardsmen are prisoners or deserters. Most of them are of the latter category, having fled through sundry aspects."

“As per their standing orders in case of a successful incursion into the castle,” he said calmly.

“Of course. Very wise, actually, as they had no chance."

“Who are the invaders?"

“They originate from an aspect that Dad sealed off long ago, on a hunch that the inhabitants might be potential troublemakers. He was right."

“Well, now,” he said, scratching his chin. “That could be any one of about a hundred aspects that Dad had doubts about."

“Does it really matter which one? They are a race of bipeds, very warlike, very aggrandizing. Overwhelmingly so. They discovered the gateway quite readily, and instantly realized the unparalleled strategic value of the castle."

He nodded. “Gateway to thousands of worlds ripe for conquest."

“Yes. And they have technology, good technology. And a little magic, too; more, since they've been in the castle. So no worlds are safe from them."

“They sound like a real going concern.” He shifted in his seat and recrossed his legs. “Looks like you're putting your cards on the table, for once. I thought we'd be here for hours, playing cat and mouse."

“It would have been fun, but...” She gave him a sulky look. “Damn it, Inky, you have a way of putting me off my stride. That ‘reading reactions' business was just a ploy to get me to think that you have something on me, when, in fact, the situation is entirely the reverse."

“You have something on me?"

“You're locked out, dear brother. On the outside looking in. You're in New York, and you'll never be able to summon the gateway to the castle, let alone stabilize it in a New York apartment. I have established the gateway. Elsewhere."

“So, you
have
been fooling about here. With Trent?"

She chuckled gloatingly. “I knew you'd fall for that. You detected meddling and instantly suspected Trent, so you hied yourself to Earth to check him out. And he was as oily and as sneaky as always, and looking worried about your showing up there after all these years, nosing about. So you thought, ‘Trent is up to something.' And he may very well be, if I know Trent. But it doesn't have anything to do with what I'm doing."

“Brilliant so far, sis. By the way, did I tell you that you're absolutely stunning in that dress?"

“Thank you.” She reddened slightly. “Damn you! You always know exactly what to say to bring me up short. That's why I'm not inclined to toy with you, Inky. you are much too dangerous for that, and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

“I see.” He looked down, tapping one shoe against the other. “So, you've taken over Castle Perilous."

“Oh, not yet. We're only in the first stage of things."

“You're not in cahoots with these invaders?"

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “They're perfectly dreadful beasts, and I wouldn't think of having anything personally to do with them."

“So you just busted the containing spell and let them spill out into the castle? Unwise, Ferne honey. Unwise."

“On the contrary, they've been very useful. They are a bargaining chip."

“Indeed? Tell me this. Just where are you in the castle, if the castle has been invaded?"

“Well, you don't think I wouldn't take precautions, do you? We've sealed off the old family residence. We're quite safe here, for the moment."

“I see. So the Albion aspect is protected."

“Naturally. And the Earth aspect is here, too, stabilized nicely. And the door is locked, Inky. Only I have the key."

“What did you mean by calling the invaders a bargaining chip? What are you bargaining for?"

“For a share of control of the castle. And its power."

“Of course. And you want to bargain with me."

“Who else, my liege lord?"

“Why do I figure in at all?” he asked. “According to you, I'm locked out."

“We need you."

“Who is ‘we'?"

“Deems and I,” Ferne said.

He looked off, nodding, understanding. “I see. Old Deems is finally having second thoughts about abdicating in favor of me. Why, I wonder?"

She laughed mirthlessly. “He doesn't want the throne. Through his profligacy and general ineptitude, he's screwed up things in Albion to the point where he finally had to ask me for help. Magical help. The kingdom's in a mess. Fiscally speaking, he's just about at the end of his rope."

Incarnadine folded his arms and nodded. “So, he wasn't kidding."

“Deems has trouble lying. There's no guile in the man at all. And not a great deal of brains. Imagine him trying to pretend that he didn't know how to reach me. Dead giveaway."

“You're right. I knew immediately that you and he were up to something. But by then it was too late. I was here, and, as you put it, on the outside looking in."

“You couldn't have timed things any better. I had no idea when the creatures would make their move to take over Perilous, but I had hoped you would follow the Trent lead and go to New York before the attack. And you went, beating them by about two days. It was a little close, but it worked out. Had you been present during the invasion, I don't think it would have made much difference. But your not being there was good insurance."

Incarnadine got up and went to the dry bar. He poured himself two fingers of whiskey, then tore the cap off a small bottle of club soda and mixed it in. “I'd offer you a drink, but..."

“I'm having one served to me here,” she said, holding an invisible glass. The faint suggestion of a long-stemmed wineglass—a milky, wavering outline—took form in her hand as she brought it to her lips.

“I've often wondered,” he said, “why the spell that projects the image won't project any other material thing but the subject's clothes. Why just clothes?"

“Dad's sense of propriety, I guess. How would it look, me sitting here in front of my brother naked?"

“Well, it wouldn't look all that bad,” he said. “All in the family, you know."

“Inky, I'm surprised,” she said coyly. “I never knew you harbored incestuous thoughts."

He feigned shock. “Hold your scandalous tongue, woman! That would be unspeakable. Not to say bad form. No, dear, chaste sister, I simply have always thought that you were a knockout. Purely a matter of aesthetics.” He took a drink and walked back to the chair and sat down.

She shook her head. “You're just sandbagging me again. Forget it, Inky. It won't work."

“Ferne, your biggest fault is that you can't take a compliment."

“That may be. I'm much too suspicious to accept them at face value."

“Pity,” he said. “But back to business. You say you need me. For what?"

“We need your Guardsmen to take back the castle. Deems' forces aren't adequate. Only you know where your boys are hiding. With them and Deems' army combined—and with a little help from the Recondite Arts—we'll be able to stuff the disgusting little devils back into their hole."

“You hope!"

Ferne shrugged. “I don't see why it can't be done. The invaders are troublesomely adept at fighting, true, but they're certainly not invincible. See here. You thwarted Prince Vorn and destroyed the combined military might of the Hunran Empire and its allies. Surely you and Deems can turn back an army that has but one access way into the castle! Close off the portal, and reinforcements and supplies are denied them! Then it becomes merely a question of mopping up."

He rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Karl von Clausewitz!"

“Oh, really, Inky, you're always carping over details. You'll think of something, I'm sure."

He took a good stiff drink. “Okay, say Deems and I beat back this horde of—what the hell do they look like, anyway? Want to give me a hint?"