Castle Spellbound

KEEP — LOWEST LEVELS

There was much clink and clash of steel against steel in the sitting room-or what was left of the sitting room. The fancy furniture lay overturned. Glass shelves were shattered, their objets d'art strewn over the carpet or smashed against stone. Tapestries lay trampled across the floorboards.

Gene swung mightily, connected, and sent his opponent's banged-up shield flying. Unprotected, the gladiator braced to parry Gene's next assault, but mistook a low feint for the real thing. For a penalty he lost his head, which Gene took off cleanly at the shoulders with one whistling cut.

The severed head left a bloody trail across a Persian throw rug before disappearing.

Gene looked over his shoulder in time to see Snowclaw skewer his adversary, who promptly disappeared.

Linda came out from behind an overturned highboy. "Yuck! I know they're not real, but I can't stand the gore. I'm getting ill."

"It's not doing my stomach any good, either," Gene said as he sheathed his weapon, "but the whole phenomenon is getting kind of shaky."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning these guys didn't have much fight in them. Much weaker than the spooks I first tussled with."

"What do you think's going on? Spell exhaustion?"

"I think that's a good bet."

Linda nodded. "Stands to reason. All this magic, all so overdone. You reach a point of diminishing returns with any spell."

"Right. So maybe the whole shebang will just play itself out?"

"I dunno," Linda said. "A weakened spell can go on for the longest time. It can still be a nuisance."

"I was just hoping we didn't have to go through with this. I'm tired as hell. You tired, Snowy?"

"No. Bored."

"Know what you mean. Okay, you want to try the next level down?"

"Might as well," Linda said. "Stairs?"

"Let's try an elevator. I think there's a shaft near here."

"Take a shortcut to the source of this nonsense. Right, let's be off."

They walked out of the sitting room and down the hall, threading through a thicket of activity. Variety had begun to evidence itself. The entertainment theme no longer prevailed. Strange and not-so-strange apparitions of many a flavor and stripe came into view. They passed a pair of sailors, a group of women in chadors and veils, several men in conservative suits carrying attache cases, a motorcycle gang, a man and woman in khakis and pith helmets swishing butterfly nets, a troupe of clowns, six tonsured monks, half-a-dozen state militiamen, an overnight-message delivery woman, several used car salesmen in plaid sports coats, white bucks, and green trousers with white belts, several English bobbies, a tribe of Uzbeks, a gang of stevedores with grappling hooks, a bemedaled officer of the Woman Textile Workers Union of Novocherkassk, a male ballet dancer flouncing about with a nosegay of nasturtiums, a man in a tartan kilt dancing a strathspey, three whirling dervishes, a Maytag repairman, a pride of surgeons in green operating gowns, and a dozen fez-headed Shriners in search of a convention.

These were only the human representatives. Also scurrying about the hallways were orangutans, chimps, gibbons, lemurs, and one gorilla. Flitting through the air came birds of every description, from nuthatches to herons, from waxwings to hummingbirds.

"Hello, hello," Gene said, greeting people amiably.

"Things are getting even more nutsy," Linda said nervously. "Who are these people?"

"You got me. Hello, there! Nice day, isn't it?"

A Tibetan monk passed, bowing. Following him was a Jain holy man, stark naked and distributing handbills. Proffering one he asked, "You read literature?"

"Jain err," Gene told the man, waving him off.

A cloud of multicolored butterflies swarmed overhead. Farther on, black butterflies congregated.

There were a few musicians left. A man bowing a rebec strolled past, followed by a woman playing an oboe d'amore. A small girl blowing an ocarina skipped by.

More animals: two ocelots, three servals, and a small herd of springbok. A pack of Dalmatians ran by, yipping and yelping.

"What weird-looking animals these are," Snowclaw said.

Gene regarded him curiously, but said nothing.

More Dalmatians dashed by.

"This is getting to be Dalmatian Alley," Linda said.

"Good book, terrible movie," Gene said off-handedly.

"Hey, pal, got a light?"

It was a man in historically accurate medieval Hungarian armor, holding an unlit cigarette to his lips.

Gene stopped and searched his pockets. He shook his head.

Linda held out a flaming Zippo. The man lit his cigarette and puffed.

"Thanks," the man said.

"Say," Gene said, "are you in this book?"

"No, I'm just taking a shortcut to the next Steve Brust novel."

"Oh."

The man winked. "See you around."

"So long."

They watched him walk away. Gene said, "Things are getting just a mite screwy here."

"Yeah," Linda said. She stood on tiptoe and peered above heads. "There they are."

A gang of people were waiting for elevators. Gene, Linda, and Snowclaw had to wait ten minutes for the next available one going down. When they boarded, they were surprised to discover a uniformed operator.

"Floor, please?" asked the man in the crisp maroon uniform with yellow piping.

"Basement?" Gene said.

"Basement, Thrift Shop, carpet remnants, step to the rear, please."

They did. "Thrift Shop?" Gene wondered in sotto voce puzzlement.

Linda shrugged.

Two women, decked out in colorful print dresses and expensive jewelry, boarded on the next floor down.

"So I was talking to my daughter-in-law the other day," one of them said.

"The shiksa?"

"The blondie. She told me she was going to a flea market next weekend, so I tell her, `Listen, do me a favor, if you see a used mah-jongg set, I could use one. You know, a nice one with none of the tiles missing. If you should happen to find one, please, maybe, pick it up for me, but only if it's under twenty dollars.' And she says to me, `What's a mah-jongg set?' Can you believe it?"

The other woman said, "Ciel, listen to me. Shiksas in the suburbs don't know from mah-jongg. You know what I'm saying?"

"You're telling me."

"Second floor, notions, mezzanine," the operator announced. The two women got off and several more shoppers boarded, along with a mixture of other types.

The next floor down yielded a motley bunch who began stuffing themselves into the elevator. Gene and Linda were squeezed together up against Snowclaw.

"Oh, by the way," Gene said.

"What?" Linda said.

"I'm going to go out on a limb."

"Oh, you are, eh? How so?"

"Well, I'm going to say something."

"Say it."

"Uh, well, um… Linda, I love you."

"You love me?"

"Yeah."

Linda smiled. "Hey, that's great. 'Cause I love you."

"You do?" Gene said, astonished.

"Yup. Do you think we're right for each other?"

"Nope. But what the heck."

"Yeah, what the heck. So, kiss me already."

They kissed. Snowclaw watched with clinical interest. After a minute or two Snowclaw said, "Excuse me, but what exactly is this thing you're doing? I've never seen you do it before."

"Sorry, Snowy," Linda said, breathless. "It just shows that Gene and I like each other a lot."

"Oh. I get it. But, biting each other like that? Doesn't that hurt?"

"In a way," Gene said.

"Really an odd practice," Snowclaw commented.

"I suppose it is."

"Bargain basement, Thrift Shop, carpet remnants, factory glass outlet! And snack bar. Watch your step!"

A clot of humanity (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) was disgorged from the elevator's open doors. Gene and Linda found themselves carried willy-nilly along with the flow. Snowclaw started shoving hapless individuals out of the way.

"Ease off, Snowy," Gene said.

"Whatever you say, good buddy. Can I bust maybe a few heads, though?"

"No, it's not going to do any good. Just try to keep together."

Nevertheless Snowclaw began to drift away from Gene and Linda, who held each other tight.

Linda gave a painful grunt. "God, we might get crushed to death."

"Well, that's how I always wanted to die."

"How."

"Get mashed to death while making love to a beautiful woman."

"You might get your wish, aside from the beautiful part."

"Nonsense, you're as pretty as they come."

"You'll turn my head, sir, with that… uhhh! God damn it, somebody stepped on my toe."

"Kiss me and I'll make it better."

They kissed while the human riptide pulled them across the floor of a vast columned chamber. Linda's feet left the ground. She couldn't get them back down, so she wrapped her legs around Gene. And rather liked it.

"Looks like we're not going to accomplish much down here," Gene said after their lips parted.

"The spell's gone absolutely out of control," Linda said, not really caring all that much.

"We might not make it out of here," Gene told her.

"I know. I love you, Gene, darling."

"I love you, Linda, my love. The only one I ever really loved. Let's have a kid or two."

"Okay, let's."

"Really? I mean, you really think you'd like that?"

"Yup."

"You sure?"

"Actually, I won't know until it happens. They say it hurts like hell."

"Yeah, but the castle midwife must have a spell for that."

"But we might never get the chance to have kids."

"Maybe not."

"Unless I can get these shorts off."

"In the middle of this crowd? Now, that's kinky."

"They're not really people, are they?"

"They're doing a good job faking. Hey, what's this?" It was a large carved wooden dining table, an island in the middle of a raging sea.

"Push, Linda. Get to it."

"I can't… quite get my legs down…"

Gene strained heroically, couldn't make headway, then redoubled his effort. Carrying Linda, he broke through the edge of the crowd.

They fell beneath the table. Feet shuffled around them, legs stamped and kicked. But they were safe for the moment. The table was of solid oak and quite massive.

"I want to make an honest woman of you."

"Meaning?"

"A wedding."

"Yes! I love weddings!"

"But shall we, you know, before, do the thing, um…?"

"You mean make love? Of course! I want it."

"I want you, Linda."

"I love you, Gene."

And there, beneath Ervoldt the Third's ceremonial dining table (dating from the first millennium of the castle's history), on a remarkably warm stone floor, they consummated their love while the crowd surged around them, growing ever thicker, and pink giraffes cavorted with black butterflies and golden dragons up among the high, ribbed vaulting.