Castle Spellbound (8 page)

“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. “As 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 it, 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 broom-wielding 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.

Gene said, “Well, it's all so obvious, isn't it?"

Gene calmly drank his coffee as yet another distant drum drew nearer.

Deena said, “Uh-oh."

Gaming Hall

Jeremy Hochsteader was dressed in a parti-colored cote-hardie (a longish tunic belted at the waist) in black and orange with matching tights: one leg per color. His orange Reebok cross-training shoes somehow looked appropriate.

He was sitting at a table playing a home video game and enjoying it. He had been invited to the party at Club Sheila of course, but he didn't like parties, so he'd put off going until it was too late.

No less than three homunculi had swept out the room already, but Jeremy hadn't paid them any mind, his attention fixed on wheels of fire and vicious turtles. But now he heard music; and though he didn't stop playing, he was beginning to grow aware that something might be going on. Maybe Sheila's party had spilled over into the castle.

Maybe it had. So what.

He kept playing, thumbing the buttons on the control device, jumping over pitfalls and leapfrogging monsters. The music grew louder but he still didn't care. He wished whoever was making it would go away.