Bride of the Castle

CHAPTER FOUR

"Do you think we took the hem up too far?"

Red-haired, freckle-faced Melanie McDaniel stepped back from the oaken table. On it stood her friend, Linda Barclay, blonde bride-to-be.

"I like it the way it is."

"I think it's too high."

"It's a nice wedding gown, Linda."

"Do you think eliminating the bow is going too far?"

"Well, you said you wanted a modern look."

"Maybe something more traditional would be better for a wedding in a castle." Linda reached down and turned up the hem. "Maybe a train?"

"You said you didn't want to feel like you could trip at any moment."

"I don't. But I don't want the dress to look too modern either. I mean, this is a castle."

"They why not go with the medieval costume thing?"

"I don't want it to be a costume ball. It's supposed to be a wedding. My wedding. We run around in silly clothes enough around here."

"But in Castle Perilous, silly clothes really aren't costumes. They're the clothes people actually wear. And they're not silly." Melanie looked down at her own outfit, that of a minstrel.

"Sorry, point taken. But still- Anyway, I think it's too short."

"Depends on what effect you want. Bionda, what do you think?"

Bionda, the castle seamstress, looked on as if only mildly interested. After all, Linda, a powerful, sorceress, had conjured the gown herself. Bionda was there only to offer professional advice, if it was needed and wanted.

Bionda stepped back and took a fresh look. Linda and Melanie waited expectantly for her opinion.

Bionda cleared her throat. "I think it much too short, milady."

Linda's face fell. "See? I was right."

"I think the train would be nice," Bionda said. "Gives a bride dignity. Adds pageantry to a ceremony."

"Well, maybe I should go with the train."

"But milady, your wedding day draws near! Perhaps you might take this as impertinence, but you really shouldn't have waited until now to settle these important matters."

"Oh, it's no problem," Linda said. She snapped a finger. Instantly, the dress changed. Gone were the clean modern lines, replaced with lace, brocade, and sequins. A long train cascaded from the bustle and flowed out over the table.

"Well, now you're going way in the other direction," Melanie said.

Bionda was a little ruffled. "I forget, milady, that you can do that so easily."

"Nothin' to it," Linda said, lifting the veil. "Except it won't last overnight, if I conjure it now. That's why I had to wait until so close to the wedding day."

"I see."

"I'll whip it up late tomorrow night. It'll last well into the next day. Just have to remember this configuration." Linda looked back. "And remember not to overdo the train."

"I think it's beautiful, if you like traditional," Melanie said.

"Oh, hell, I don't know," Linda despaired. "I can't decide. Maybe I'll just go back home and pick out a dress at Wedding World."

"Linda, you don't have time for that."

"Oh, right. Forgot."

Melanie looked up at her. "Linda, are you having. uh…" She gave a sidelong glance at Bionda.

"Second thoughts? I've been thinking ever since Gene proposed to me. I wonder if we're doing the right thing."

"You can still call it off."

"What? After all those engraved invitations? To the royal family, yet. They R.S.V.P.-ed, kid. Too late now."

"Well, canceling would be better than making a mistake you might regret-"

"Wait a minute. I don't think it will be a mistake. If I thought that, I would have called it off long ago. It's Gene I'm thinking about."

"Oh, sure, Bionda. Thanks."

Bionda curtsied, hiked up her smock, and left. "Sorry I talked out of turn," Melanie said.

"You picked up on some cue, for sure."

"So you don't think Gene is the marrying kind?"

"Sometimes I wonder if most men really are," Linda said. "But I know that Gene's a free spirit, a wild stallion. Do I really want to rein him in?"

"Does marriage have to be that way?"

"Maybe not. Maybe my fears are groundless. Anyway… "

Linda snapped her fingers again, and the gown was transformed into an outfit consisting of black tights, black leather shorts, ankle-high boots, and a kelly green puffed sleeve blouse.

She jumped down from the table. "Where's Gene?" Melanie asked.

"The bachelor party's this afternoon."

"Oh, the bachelor party, right. Is Lord Incarnadine going?"

"I think. Don't know for sure. Gene sent out the invites."

"Hope they don't get into too much mischief. I mean with the dancing girls."

"I conjured 'em. You can be sure there won't be any monkey business."

"You conjured dancing girls for your fiance's bachelor party? Woman, that's trust."

"Not the way I conjure dancing girls."

"Uh-oh."

"Look-see only."

"Hmmm. Interesting. I won't ask for details."

"You hungry?"

"Yeah, let's go have lunch."

The walk from the seamstress's tower to the Queen's Dining Hall was long but interesting, going past some attractive "aspects." These looked like doorways to other lands-and in fact they were. Moreover, each aspect was a different world, a universe altogether separate from, and alien to, the world of the castle.

"What you said about men," Melanie continued. "It's true. Basically they're feral. All of them."

"Oh, not all, come on."

"I'll grant that some can be domesticated."

"Wait a minute! What's this `domesticated' stuff? Don't tell me that's what marriage is about?"

"Just a manner of speaking."

"Look, Melanie, let's not get into another men-bashing marathon. I'm tired of those."

"It's not bashing, it's just facing reality. DNA rules them. They're genetically programmed to spread their genes as widely as possible."

"I'm the only one who's going to get Gene's genes," Linda said decisively.

Melanie was significantly silent.

"From here on in, that is." Linda added. "I know he hasn't been exactly a monk in the past."

"Well, he's been married in the past. I mean, he was married to Vaya. Or is he still married to her?"

"The world she came from doesn't even exist," Linda said, "except as some weird probability factor. Gene and Vaya were married according to the laws of Vaya's tribe. He was coerced. He didn't have a choice. She chose him. That means the union's invalid in the Castle, and on Earth, for that matter. At least, that's the way Gene explained it to me."

"But what if she shows up to claim him? With Gene's kid."

Linda frowned. "That has me worried. Gene said she probably aborted the pregnancy."

"But he doesn't know."

"No. Anyway, why would Vaya come back to the castle? She didn't like it here, and she loved southern California, for some strange reason. Gene says it's over, no matter what. He wouldn't want her back."

They walked the length of a stone-lined hallway before Linda said resignedly, "Okay, I'll admit there's something in what you said. I told you I had doubts. But really, it's not me I'm so worried about. I mean, for some reason-and I never thought I'd say this-the thought of Gene having a brief fling out in some crazy world somewhere doesn't really bother me. I'm worried that after the wedding he'll get moody again. You know, like he does sometimes. He'll mope and brood and then he'll look at me, as if to say, Some idea you had, there, us getting married."

"And he'll blame you for his being miserable," Melanie said.

"Yeah. I don't need that. I think he's the one who has some soul-searching to do."

"Yeah, but as you said, it's getting a little late for that." Reaching the dining hall, they entered and walked to a long table where a group of people sat having lunch. Side tables were heavy with a sumptuous buffet. The selection was eclectic, catering to every taste.

"Hello, hello," Lord Peter Thaxton called to the approaching pair.

"Hi," Linda said as she spooned some lamb stew into a bowl. Bringing it over to the table, she said, "I thought you and Mr. Dalton were going to Gene's bachelor party."

"We are," Cleve Dalton said. He inclined his head toward Lord Peter. "He insisted on having lunch first."

"Nobody said anything about lunch at the party," Lord Peter said.

"There'll be mounds of food," Linda told him. "I whipped it all up, matter of fact."

"But the party's at one, is it not?" Lord Peter took out his pocket watch. "It's only half past twelve."

Dalton snickered.

"Besides, I always have the same lunch."

Dalton nodded. "Kippers, Yorkshire pudding, steak-and-kidney pie, and tea."

"With lemon."

"With lemon. Same lunch, every day, day in and day out."

"Are you implying there's something wrong in that?" Lord Peter asked archly.

"Nothing wrong with it. You're just a creature of habit, is all."

"'Creature,' is it? Well, this creature likes his habits."

"I said there was nothing wrong with it."

Deena Williams and Barnaby Walsh interrupted their conversation so Deena could ask, "Linda, you all ready for the wedding?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Nervous?"

"Oh, a little, I guess. Deena, were you ever married?"

"Hell, yeah. Three times."

Linda was nonplussed for a moment before replying, "But you don't look old enough."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Sorry, I meant- Never mind. Are you still married?"

"They was all duds, all three. Divorced 'em all. Well, not the last one, really. I didn't have enough money to pay off the lawyer and I don't think he ever sent in the papers. So, I guess I'm still married to Dud Number Three."

"Oh."

"Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

"Life's a sick puppy, no matter what the gender," the portly Barnaby Walsh said.

"Shut up, Walsh."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Anyway, Linda, good luck being married to Casanova."

Linda rolled her eyes. "Deena, please!"

"Sorry. I like Gene, don't get me wrong."

"I know you like Gene."

"I'm sorry, really."

"Forget it."

Deena flinched inwardly. "Whoops. Put my foot in it."

"I said forget it." Linda pushed lamb stew around with her spoon, then dropped the spoon and pushed the bowl away. "I'm not hungry. Think I'll go for a walk."

"Are you okay?" Melanie asked.

"Sure."

Melanie said with underscored sincerity, "Linda, all of us hope you'll be very happy."

"Thanks. See you all later."

Linda walked out of the dining hall. An uncomfortable silence fell. Lord Peter broke it.

"Well, I feel much better for having eaten my usual lunch." He patted his lips with a serviette.

"Lord Peter, you're a man of principles," Dalton said.

"I thank you, sir."

"And a horse's ass."

"As are you, sir. Now, I think I will go to Gene's picnic. Would you care to accompany this horse's ass to that auspicious affair?"

"As one horse's ass to another, I would be honored, sir."

"If you people would kindly excuse us," Lord Peter said.

"You're excused," Deena said.

Dalton and Thaxton walked out the door.

"I guess I said the wrong thing to Linda," Deena lamented. "Am I dumb."

"Oh, she'll be all right," Melanie said, looking unconvinced.