Linda shook her head. “I’m sure I wouldn’t understand it in any terms.”
“You underestimate yourself. Nevertheless, the upshot of the matter is that the castle may be in some danger, and we with it.”
Linda grunted. “More problems, as if we didn’t have enough.” She glanced at the screen of Jeremy’s computer. “Any luck with this gadget?”
“We have made a beginning,” Osmirik said. “But only a beginning. In so doing, however, we have discovered another adept.”
Linda’s eyebrows rose. “Jeremy? Really? That was quick.”
“Doubtless because his talent is considerable.”
“Gee, folks,” Jeremy said, “it was nothin’.”
“It’s no joke,” Linda told him. “We need all the help we can get. What can you do?”
“It’s not much,” Jeremy said. “It’s just that I’m running this computer with magic juice.”
“Great. But what good does that do?”
“Beats the crap out of me, but it’s a lot of fun.”
“His skill might help us to make some headway in our spellcasting endeavors,” Osmirik said. “The science of adapting these machines to thaumaturgic applications is in its infancy.”
Jeremy said, “Incarnadine sounds like he knows his computers. Even said he built one.”
Osmirik nodded. “If His Majesty says it, then it is true. I was speaking of the science as it is practiced by mere mortals such as your humble servant.” Osmirik bowed his head, laying a hand against his breast.
“Oh. Well, why don’t you ask Incarnadine to help out?”
“It is not my place to do so. I am a servant of His Majesty, not the reverse.”
“Uh-huh. Yeah, well, you know best.”
“I’m going to Jamin and request an audience,” Linda said. “I simply have to talk to Incarnadine. Did you tell him about Gene?”
“Of course, Linda,” Osmirik said.
“Sorry. I suppose he does have bigger problems on his mind.”
“He should be informed about this latest disappearance. But don’t see Jamin.”
Linda gave Osmirik a puzzled frown. “Why not?”
“I would rather not say at this time. When next I see His Majesty — and he will be back here very shortly to pick up some books he requested — I will intercede in your behalf.”
“Thanks. God, I wish I knew what happened to Sheila and Snowy. Trent —” Linda fretfully drummed her fingers against the tabletop. “You don’t think …?”
Osmirik waited.
Linda dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Oh, it’s silly. What would Trent have against Sheila? Unless —”
Suddenly the floor began to shake, and a sound like thunder filled the library. Shelves rocked back and forth, and overhead, the huge wooden chandeliers began gently to sway.
“Quick,” Osmirik shouted, “under the table!”
They all dove for cover.
There came clattering sounds from all over the room as objects fell. Then shelves began collapsing. The floor rocked violently and furniture slid about as if animated. The disturbance lasted for a good minute.
Sounds of crashing peaked, then subsided. The floor finally settled down, the thunder fading.
At length, an uneasy silence fell.
The three came out from under the table, whey-faced but unharmed.
Osmirik made a quick inspection tour of the main floor. Damage was surprisingly limited, despite what the ruckus had sounded like. Only about thirty shelves in all had collapsed, out of the hundreds and hundreds. Even so, the mess was terrible. Books lay scattered everywhere. He returned to the study area.
“That was bad,” Linda said. “I mean, the castle gets shaky now and then, but that was real bad.”
“Earthquake?” Jeremy asked, worried.
“No, some kind of instability. You think, Ozzie?”
“I am afraid so. Perhaps caused by the disturbance His Majesty spoke of. If so, it may be of greater proportions than he suspects.”
“Things keep going from bad to worse around here,” Linda fretted. “I’m going to see what I can do back at Halfway. Maybe Trent and Sheila went out to lunch and just forgot to tell us. Jeremy, you better come with me.”
“Right,” Jeremy said, snapping the computer’s carrying case shut. He sure as hell didn’t want to stay here. But there was a problem.
As far as he could see, there was no place to run to.
Sixteen
King’s Study
“ … Five … four … three … two … one.”
On a wooden table in the middle of the chamber, there appeared a strange, feathery glob of golden light. Shifting and shimmering, it neither took shape nor attained substance, but somehow suggested the form of a bird.
Incarnadine approached the phenomenon. Extending his hand, he gently lifted the thing. Actually, “guided it” would be the more accurate description, for the phenomenon seemed somewhat capable of movement.
He moved to a table on which sat a personal computer.
“Reduce to data,” was his command to the thing he bore.
The luminous blob vanished with a flash. The screen of the computer suddenly came to life with a golden snowstorm of numbers and symbols.
He seated himself and studied these, occasionally entering commands on the computer’s keyboard.
At long last, he sighed and sat back. He waved his hand, and the golden smear of light exited from the back of the computer. It hovered before him.
“I release you,” he said.
The phenomenon brightened, fluttering and pulsing.
“Go on, beat it.”
The light shot off, darting about the room in a frenzy of rediscovered freedom. It bounced off the walls, did an Immelmann turn, then rocketed ceilingward and continued straight through the stone, disappearing.
He rose and crossed the room. Against a far wall stood a collection of strange contraptions, some of them resembling grandfather clocks. He consulted the dials on a number of these, his brow knitting as he did so.
“Damn. What in the name of all the gods do they think they’re doing?”
He shook his head, peering at more meters and gauges.
“Strange, strange,” he murmured, recrossing to the desk.
He entered some commands and punched Return. The screen swam with blurred images. He waved his hands and chanted something in an exotic tongue.
Annoyed, he banged a fist on the top of the device. “Drat. What’s wrong now?”
He tried different commands, to no avail.
“Trent? Trent, can you hear me? Come in.”
The screen was devoid of anything recognizable. Then a garbled voice could be heard.
“ … Inky? … you?”
“Trent!” he answered. “Speak up! I’m having trouble receiving you.”
More unidentifiable noise, clearing up for a second or two. “ …trouble … the hell this is, but it’s … get us out? … ”
He waited, but there was no more.
“Going to have to do this the old-fashioned way,” he complained.
The old-fashioned way turned out to be a large crystal globe sitting on a table in a far corner of the cluttered room. The thing was covered with dust, so he took a chamois cloth to it and soon had it acceptably clear.
He closed his eyes, then opened them suddenly. “Damned if I haven’t forgot the riffs. Ye gods …”
After rummaging through stacks of old books, he finally discovered the one he wanted, then found out it wasn’t. More rummaging, and much annoyed throwing of things.
He chuckled. “I’m losing my grip. Here it is.”
The right tome, the right passage, the right incantation. He read through it, moving his lips.
He slammed the book closed. “That’s it.” As he passed the desktop computer, he shook his head ruefully at it. “Technology. Makes a cripple of you, it does.”