The High Tower was high indeed. But was it high enough?
Periodically he had stopped to explore a floor or two, finding more anomalies, more odd goings-on. Harlequins and troubadours milling about. Marching orchestras playing their "music" at unbelievable volume. How anyone could abide such noise was beyond his comprehension.
No matter. He would hole up somewhere, hie himself through an aspect and fritter away some time there until the tumult died down.
But you never knew about aspects. You didn't want to go blundering into one without reconnoitering. And loaded as he was with swag? — well, that was taking an enormous risk. He hoped to avoid risk altogether. The castle was a vasty barn; surely it was big enough to provide a hiding place. Surely the hurly-burly wouldn't spread to the entire castle. Someone was coming down the stairs.
He suppressed an impulse to run back down. Better to brass it out.
A youngish man with a thin, scratchy-looking beard came round the bend of the stairwell. He was dressed in a slovenly T-shirt and faded jeans. Seeing Kwip, he halted.
"Did you ever wonder why the next line over in a bank moves faster than yours? And when you get in that line, the line you were in starts to move faster? That happens in supermarkets, too. Did you ever wonder about that?"
Kwip kept silent and continued marching up the steps. "And did you ever notice that the lane you're driving in always ends in five hundred feet? It's never the other lane! Why is that?"
Kwip passed him and kept climbing.
The comedian didn't follow but kept on talking.
"Why can't you be `unkempt' but you can't be `kempt'? How can you be un-something but you can't be the something? That's not logical. And did you ever wonder about-?"
"Blow it out your arsehole!" Kwip growled over his shoulder.
He kept mounting the stair, the sacks growing heavier and heavier. He was exhausted. He couldn't climb another flight. When he reached the next landing, he exited the stairwell.
"Gods!"
More pandemonium. Here were hallways choked with buskers, circus acts, ballet troupes, and vaudeville danceand-patter teams. A juggler juggling muskmelons walked past. A trained seal flippered by, a huge beach ball balanced on its snout.
"Ye gods and green salamanders."
Kwip steeled himself, resettled the bags against his back, and struck out into the melee.
"I don't have any luck at all," a stocky man complained in passing. "I'm tellin' you, it's murder."
Kwip moved on.
Turning a corner, he halted in his tracks. Lions!
And a lion-tamer in jodhpurs and riding boots, whip in hand. There came a cracking and much roaring.
Kwip backstepped hastily.
He found another crossing corridor, this one relatively empty, and lit out into it. He proceeded cautiously. The din of all the huggermugger echoed in his ears, and the smell of animal dung assailed his nostrils. Shouts and commotion came from every quarter.
He wondered, What in the name of all the gods is going on? The castle had never been like this in all his experience of it. It was ofttimes a place fit for madmen, true enough; but its madness had never reached such a fever pitch. This was sheerest insanity. What lay behind it all? Witchery, he guessed. Evil spells. What else? Such was the cause of most of the trouble around here. Find a fracas, turn over the bodies, and you'd doubtless reveal one kind of magical trickery or another. The place was rife with sorcerers. Sometimes he had half a mind to quit it all, rush pell-mell through the first aspect that presented itself, and the devil take the hindmost!
A great maned lion came round the corner ahead. It stopped in its tracks and glowered at Kwip.
Kwip halted. He smiled weakly. "Nice puss," he said.
The lion snarled. Then it sniffed. Fresh meat.
"N-n…" Kwip licked his dry lips and swallowed. "Nice pussy. Dear pussycat." He began to back off.
The lion advanced a few steps forward, still taking Kwip's olfactory measure. Its tail swished back and forth. Kwip hurled the sacks at it and ran. At his back, the lion roared.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of trees and blue sky. An aspect! He altered his path and ran for it, crossing through an alcove. He streaked through the magic doorway. Into another world.
Coming out into fresh air, he sprinted across a grassy clearing. On reaching its other side he dove into low brush, hunkered down low, and held his breath.
He pushed a twig aside and looked out. The clearing was empty. The lion hadn't followed.
He exhaled and took off his cap, wiped his brow with his sleeve. Ye gods.
Ye gods! The gold! He'd left it strewn across the castle flagstones. He'd best get back there quickly.
He looked again. No great beasts in sight. But there was plenty of cover to hide a big cat. He didn't want to risk being caught out in the open. He'd better wait a bit.
But all he could think of was the gold. Glittering yellow metal, finely wrought into cups and plates and medallions and rings and things, all scattered about the castle, waiting for the first person to come along and scoop them up. Blast! It was likely all gone already! Where was that infernal beast?
He peered out once more. Nothing. He'd have to risk it. Now, where was the portal? There.
No. There. No, wrong again. It should be directly across the clearing. The grass wasn't tall enough to have bent in his path; no tracks to retrace his steps. But he hadn't run that far. The way back to the castle should be… there.
Well, it was somewhere about, of that he was sure. With no lion to bother him, he would simply search until he found it. Unless…
Unless this was an aspect that tended to pop in and out of existence, as some were wont to do. In that case, the portal might have disappeared, and he'd be stranded. Best not to think of that, yet.
He put on his cap. He got to his feet slowly, looking around, then cautiously came out from cover. He began to walk back across the clearing.
He was halfway across when a tremendous explosion threw up great gouts of earth at the far end of the clearing. The concussion knocked him down, and clods of dirt rained down on him.
He was dazed, but was almost to his feet when another explosion hit in the woods he'd just left, to the same effect. More shocks followed.
He staggered for the tree line, and when he reached it, the portal was not to be found. He fell behind a bush, lay flat, and covered his head with his arms.
A salvo of artillery shells hit the clearing, shaking the earth and engendering in Kwip's benumbed mind the consoling thought that he didn't have to worry about the gold. He would never see the castle again.
PIRAEON
The assembled armada choked the harbor. There were almost four hundred ships, hailing from all over Arkadia, its possessions, protectorates, fiefdoms, and allies. Ships of every class lay moored to the docks and anchored as far out as the breakwaters: sailing vessels, galleys, longboatseven a few barges. A good number were warships of Arkadian design-long, sleek galleys-cum-sail with high curved sterns and sharp low ramming-prows. But there were also modified traders, refitted fishing boats, and other improvisations. They'd scoured every harbor in the Central Sea to get this show together.
Trent sat at a table in front of his tent, which had been pitched on the leeward side of the hill above the harbor. He was trying to get some food into him. After what was going to happen in a very short while, he knew his appetite would vanish.
It was practically gone already. He had before him a very good ripened cheese from Tyras, a fine red Megaran wine, raw chopped lamb with olive oil, shallots and garlic, and good local bread; but he was barely able to force anything down. Nevertheless, he cut himself another wedge of cheese.