Castle Perilous

Keep — West Wing — South Wall

“There you are, Jacoby.”

The corpulent man with fleshy, hanging jowls and a pendulous double chin turned toward the doorway leading out onto the balcony. “Dalton … my dear fellow.” He smiled, lifted a thin glass of amber liquid to his lips, took a sip, then turned back to take in the sweeping view of the countryside, which, from this high vantage point of the castle, spread for miles to the south and west. There was much of interest.

Dalton, a tall thin man with graying temples, came out onto the balcony holding a long-stemmed wineglass in one hand and a tan-colored cigarette in a holder in the other. He was dressed in green breechclouts, brown leather doublet, and brown suede boots. He wore a hat of soft green cloth that looked something like a Tam o’ Shanter. From the room behind him came sounds of laughter and pleasant conversation, overlaid with strains of music from antique instruments.

“How goes the battle?”

“Well, from here it looks as though the outer wall has been breached.”

Dalton leaned over the rail of the stone balustrade. “Really?”

Jacoby, who still preferred the conservative Savile Row tweeds he had arrived with, took another sip. “Yes. Hand-to-hand fighting down there.” He pointed. “Among those outbuildings. Do you see?”

Dalton peered down. “You’re quite right. We should announce this to the other Guests.” He straightened up and drew a thoughtful puff on his cigarette. “Brings up an interesting question that’s been entirely hypothetical until now. What exactly will our situation be, vis-à-vis the invaders?”

“Are they aware of us?”

Dalton shrugged. “Aside from Our Host, I’ve never met anyone who could answer that question with any authority.”

“I suspect they do. You’re right — Incarnadine would know.”

“I should think.”

“Has anyone ever asked him?”

“I don’t think Our Host has made an appearance since the siege began, several months ago. At least, no one I know has seen him.”

Jacoby nodded and looked out at the battle again. For miles around, vast armies lay camped on the plains below. From this distance the clumps of brightly colored tents looked like a sprawling, endless carnival or festival. The sprawl stopped at the foot of the rocky promontory upon which Castle Perilous stood. There, hanging against the sheer cliffs, began a massive array of wooden trestles, scaffolds, ramps, and platforms — the means by which the besieging armies had scaled the heights. Even now troops of soldiers were mounting them in an endless stream from the plains, some dragging huge battle engines up the ramps, using complicated systems of ropes, cranes, and pulleys.

“There’s a certain inevitability about it all,” Dalton observed. “Our intrepid defenders have given a good account of themselves, but I think the outcome is a foregone conclusion. That army is a wave that can’t be stopped.”

“You may well be right.”

“I suppose, then,” Dalton went on, “somebody should approach the other side and find out how the Guests figure into things.”

“Rumor has it they mean to destroy the castle.”

Dalton snorted. “I’ve heard that. Ridiculous. Do you know how big this place is on the outside alone? — to say nothing of the worlds of room within. Look down.”

Jacoby did so.

“Must be eighty stories to this part of the keep. And look at those towers. How high, would you say?”

“I have no idea.”

“Have you ever been to the north wall?”

“No.”

“It must be a mile distant from us.”

“That much.” Jacoby didn’t seem oversurprised.

Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.” He paused, looking at Jacoby. Then his gaze was drawn out over the rail again. “This has to be the biggest edifice ever constructed. Anywhere.”

“Must be.”

Dalton drank from his glass and exhaled noisily. He smiled. “Exquisite, as usual.” He smacked his lips, deliberating. “A bit too fruity, perhaps.”

“Do you think there’s a chance we’ll be permitted to remain here?”

“That depends on our future landlords.”

“Yes. That is, if they succeed in overcoming Lord Incarnadine’s formidable defenses.”

“Formidable indeed. You missed some of the best battles. Those armored war birds … and the horrific dragon things, spewing fire. Men burning …” Dalton gave an involuntary shudder. “The invaders took heavy losses. But apparently they’ve made them up. So, it just might be a good idea to contact them, apprise them of our neutral position.”

“Or perhaps offer our assistance.”

Dalton arched an eyebrow. “And turn against Our Host, after all the hospitality he’s shown us, all of us?”

“I am not ungrateful.” Jacoby took a drink, then ran a sausagelike index finger around the lip of the glass. “But if he can no longer guarantee my safety, I have no qualms about protecting my best interests by acting as the situation demands.”

“I can sympathize with that.” Dalton placed his wineglass on the flat stone of the rail.

“I wonder …”

“About what?”

Jacoby gestured with his glass. “About them, the invaders. Who they are. The hosts of some rival lord?”

“A fair guess. Maybe an alliance of rivals.”

“Yes. And what are they after? The legendary jewel, perhaps. What’s it called again?”

“The Brain of Ramthonodox.”

“Strange.”

“Appropriate to the place.”

“Very.”

Both were silent for a moment. Inside, the ensemble struck up a waltz. Then Dalton said, “This idea of yours — helping the invaders. What could we possibly offer them?”

“Information?”

“Concerning what?”

Jacoby turned a chubby palm upward. “The whereabouts of Our Host, for instance. Doubtless they’ll want him as a prisoner.”

“But no one knows where he is. He’s probably hiding, and he may have left altogether.”

“Perhaps we could locate him. Mount an expedition … a search party.”

“Few of the Guests would participate. And it’s a safe bet the invaders will be looking for him themselves.”

“No doubt,” Jacoby conceded. “Still, we should make some attempt to find him before the castle falls.”

“You could hide for years in here,” Dalton said, speaking through teeth clenched on the stem of the cigarette holder. “Forever, maybe.”

“You’re entirely right, of course. As you said, the immensity of this place is almost beyond imagining.” Jacoby drank the last of the liqueur and placed the glass on the flat stone of the rail. “Escape will be easy, but it will be a pity to lose the castle.” He exhaled and shook his head. “A tragedy.”

Dalton blew out a stream of smoke. “Yeah. As pleasant as some of the nicer aspects are, I don’t relish the prospect of having to pick one of them to live in permanently. And who’s to say the invaders won’t follow us through the portals and hunt us all down?”

“I doubt they’d bother with us,” Jacoby said.

“Well, frankly, I agree. I’m not exactly worried about it. But not being able to come back to the castle would be damned inconvenient. I’d hate to go back to working for a living again.” Dalton sighed. “Still, if it has to be, it has to be. There are a number of very pleasant worlds on the other side of the portals.”

Jacoby shook his head. “I like it here.”

“Yes, this place does have its delights — as well as its dangers. But this castle belongs to someone else. You would be forever a Guest, never an owner.”

“I feel … alive here,” Jacoby said with sudden animation. “This magnificent construct …” He turned and lifted his head to look up the high wall of the keep. “This colossal monument to power — it excites me. You say never an owner? I can’t bear the thought of it. Anything is possible here. Anything.”

Dalton did not look up. He was eyeing Jacoby circumspectly.

“I want to —” Jacoby felt Dalton’s gaze, turned back toward the rail and gave a slightly self-conscious smile. “You’ll forgive me, but my experiences here so far have given me an overwhelming sense of freedom, of promise. I can’t quite … well, it’s exhilarating; to say the least. And the newfound powers, these abilities I’ve acquired —”

“Don’t let it go to your head. We’ve all acquired them, to varying degrees.”

Jacoby’s smile faded into something akin to indignation. “I’d be willing to wager that mine are more than usually developed, for such a recent arrival.”

“I have no reason to doubt you.”

Jacoby’s smile crept back. “Do forgive me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Since we’re on the subject, do you mind giving me a small demonstration of your own abilities? I hear they’re quite advanced.”

“Well …”

“Please. I’d be very interested — if you don’t mind.” Jacoby’s smile was warm.

Dalton nodded, stubbed out his cigarette on the rail, and slipped the holder into a leather pouch attached to a wide belt around his waist. He picked up the wine glass, drank the last of its contents, and replaced it on the rail. He then extended a stiffened right hand perpendicular to the ground, aiming it in the direction of the glass. His hand began to vibrate slightly. At the same time he commenced an unintelligible, monotonous chanting.

Presently the glass rose tentatively from the stone to a height of perhaps a few inches. It stopped and hung there, rotating slowly about its longer axis and processing lazily. This went on for a few moments; then, abruptly, the glass fell to the rail, toppled over without breaking, and rolled. Dalton quickly reached out and saved it from falling over the far edge.

“Damn. Lost it there. I can usually hold it for about a minute before my concentration breaks.” He set the glass upright and turned to Jacoby.

“Still, very impressive,” Jacoby said. “You use a mnemonic phrase?”

“Yes. It seems to help focus the forces … whatever.”

“I see. Very good. Very good indeed. And now me.”

Dalton’s body suddenly went rigid, his expression turning first to one of puzzlement, then to alarm. “What …? What is it?”

“Me,” Jacoby said.

“I —” His next words were choked off. With jerky, marionettelike movements, he started edging toward the rail. His face drained and his eyes grew round with fear. His right leg spasmed, rose, lowered, then rose again until his foot was even with the rail of the balustrade. He slid forward until he straddled the rail, knocking his empty wineglass over the side in the process.

Jacoby, meanwhile, was standing ramrod straight, the pupils of his eyes shining like tiny polished black stones. His jaw muscles clenched and relaxed spasmodically, making his jowls shake. The loose, bloated sac of his chin quivered.

Resisting fiercely every inch of the way, Dalton lowered himself over the rail. The process was agonizingly slow.

“You see,” Jacoby said when Dalton was hanging by both hands. “My powers, are to be reckoned with even at this early stage.”

“Yes … you —”

“There is total freedom here. One only needs the will to do what one desires, without fear of retribution.”

“Let me up.”

“I could let you drop.”

Dalton started to raise himself.

“I could, you know. I doubt if any of the other Guests would bat an eye.”

Dalton’s body shook and grew rigid again. “Pl-please!” he managed to say in a strangled gasp. His left hand withdrew from the rail.

“There you dangle, eighty stories up,” Jacoby said. “Subject to my will.”

Dalton emitted a muffled scream.

“I could let you drop.” Jacoby’s body relaxed, his jowls going loose once again. “But not today.”

Dalton’s left arm shot up to hook over the rail. With some effort he hauled himself upward until he was able to throw one leg over. Struggling, he inched upward until he was straddling the rail again, then slid off and fell to the flagstone floor of the balcony. After a long moment he got up on all fours, then lurched to his feet. His face was bloodless, tinted with ghastly shades of green.

Jacoby looked at his glass. “I need a drink,” he said, and walked inside.

It was some time before Dalton followed.