“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.