Castle Dreams

Twenty-eight Gaming Hall

Dalton and Lord Peter were at it again, at odds over a charming little endgame, one worthy of Russian chess masters. Lord Peter had castled early; Dalton had fortified himself with a Sicilian defense. It was a defensive game; and, as a pitching duel in baseball, it was academically interesting — very admirable, but not a lot of fun.

Linda was settled in a wing chair, doing cross-stitch and absently watching flames blazing in the fireplace. Seated in the chair opposite was Melanie McDaniel, stringing her guitar.

Snowclaw sat at a card table working a crossword puzzle. He had recently learned to read English and had become literate in an astonishingly short time. Deena sat at the same table with a fresh deck, trying to remember some card tricks she once knew.

“Damn!”

Lord Peter had just lost his queen.

“Sorry, old boy,” Dalton consoled.

Lord Peter sighed. “Should have seen that one coming across the drawbridge.”

Otherwise, the mood was subdued.

There were more Guests in the Gaming Hall. In a far corner, a few of the younger men were engaged in a fantasy role-playing game. Something about oubliettes and mythical saurians.

“Is it winter out?” Linda suddenly asked.

Melanie was busy with tightening a string. “Huh?”

“The castle’s so big sometimes you’re not even aware of what season it is.”

“I dunno. Why do you need to know? You can find any season you want inside the castle.”

“I know, but … that’s different. Somehow. It feels like winter. Does it feel like winter to you?”

“I went out into the desert today, and it was hot. That’s all I know.”

“You like deserts, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. I lived in Phoenix when I was little. There was a lot of desert down there, then.”

“I like forest aspects best. Trees, brooks, toadstools, fresh air.”

“All that’s nice. I don’t know what it is I like about the desert. All I know is that it’s quiet and still and hot. And I like it. And I like cactuses. Cacti.”

““Cactuses’ is okay,” Linda said. “They’re sharp and prickly, though. Don’t much care for them.” Linda did a few stitches, then stopped. “I still think it’s winter out. Maybe I’ll go up into one of the turrets and look.”

“They’re too high for me. I get dizzy.”

“You afraid of heights?”

“Sort of,” Melanie said. “You going to go look and see what season it is?”

Linda thought about it. “Maybe. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll go with you if you want.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know.”

Melanie plucked the new string, then started tuning it.

Holding out a fan-spread deck to Snowclaw, Deena Williams said, “Pick a card.”

“Huh?”

“Pick a card, and I’ll show you a trick.”

“What do you mean, a trick?”

“I’ll tell you what card you picked.”

“I don’t need anyone to tell me what card I picked if I pick a card.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’ll tell you what card you picked without looking at the card.”

“You mean you want me to tell you what card it is?”

“No!I’ll tell you what card it is.”

“But I already know what card it is.”

“No, no! Snowy, listen. I’ll tell you what card it is without you tellin’ me or me lookin’ at the card. Get it?”

“How can you do that?”

“Well, I’ll show you.”

“Yeah, but it’d have to be some kind of trick.”

Deena rolled her eyes. “That’s the point, you big goofy thing. It’s a card trick.”

“Yeah, it would have to be. So, what good is it?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“If it’s a trick, then you really can’t tell me what card I picked.”

“Yes, I can!”

“But you said it’s a trick. That means you sneak a look at it or figure it out some way with numbers or something or do tricky stuff with your hands, hiding it, and sort of like that. Right?”

Deena was mystified. “Well, for Pete’s sake, that’s what card tricks are all about.”

“Like I said, what good is it? You can’treally know what card I picked without doing any of that stuff. Can you?”

Deena slumped. She bent over and bumped her forehead against the tabletop. “I don’tbelieve I’m havin’ this conversation.”

“I don’t see your problem. Hey, do you know an eight-letter word for a stupid person?”

“Yeah. “Snowclaw.””

“Hey. Lighten up.”

“Confound it!”

Lord Peter had just lost his last knight.

“You must have some arcane strategy in mind,” Dalton said. “I can’t figure why you gave that up.”

“Damn your eyes, I didn’t bloody well give it up intentionally, and you bloody well know it!”

“Sorry. Temper, temper.”

“Oh, bugger off.”

After a strained silence, Lord Peter added, “Sorry, old chap. Lost it, there. Please forgive.”

“Think nothing of it, my lord.”

“I think I shall concede,” Lord Peter said, assessing the board. “Yes, yes. All’s lost. You’ve got me boxed in good and tight. The game’s yours.”

“Sorry, old bean.”

“Tut, tut. Good game, damn good.” Lord Peter let out a breath and sat back. Then he yawned. “Pardon me. Past my bedtime. Been having a devil of a time sleeping lately.”

“Oh? Any reason you can think of?”

“Been having strange dreams.”

“What sort?”

“Don’t know. Can’t remember them. Never remember dreams.”

“How do you know they’re strange?”

“They wake me up.”

“Try a glass of warm milk.”

“Hate milk.”

“Well, go see Mirabilis.”

“Won’t take pills.”

“Well, you’re out of luck, my friend.”

“It’s nothing, really. Hardly life-threatening.”

“Well, you need your rest. You should try a pill, at least.”

“No, I shall down three drams of Scotch whisky before bed tonight. I should think that will fix it right up.”

“There you go. The old remedies are best.”

“Now, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all week.”

Melanie had finished tuning, and was now idly strumming a chord.

“Play something,” Linda suggested.

“Oh, not really in the mood. You ever going to tell me about your love life?”

“I don’t have one. Except in my dreams.”

“Dreams, yeah.”

Gene Ferraro came striding in.

“Evening, folks.”

“Hi, Gene!” Melanie said brightly. “What’ve you been doing lately?”

“Not a whole hell of a lot.”

Gene took a seat at the card table and commandeered the deck, which Deena had given up on.

Linda asked, “Find any interesting aspects lately?”

“Nope.”

“Have any good adventures?”

Gene searched his memory. “Nnnnnope.”

Melanie sighed. “This is the point where someone usually says, “Are we having fun yet?””

“I’m having a good time,” Snowclaw said simply. “I need a word or a phrase that means “perilous aspect.” Ten letters.”

“Can’t help,” Linda said. “I’m terrible at crossword puzzles.”

Shuffling the deck, Gene looked around at his fellow Guests.

“Well, folks. Anyone for bridge?”