"Rats. This aspect has lousy magic. But if I go back into the castle and whip up more food, it'll probably fizzle too when I bring it out."
"Not hungry anyway," Gene said.
Snowclaw's head broke the surface. He spat a needle-thin stream of water out between his great teeth.
"Hi, guys," he said. "I was hot."
"We gathered," Gene said. "You been noticing all the commotion inside?"
"Yeah. It was fun for a while. Then it got boring." \"We're trying to get to the bottom of it. Want to come along?"
"Sure. Got nothing better to do."
Snowclaw waded toward shore, pushing through tall marsh grass. When he climbed out, he wasn't as wet as one would expect. The water beaded on his thick white pelt and ran off easily. He helped the process with a few quick shakes.
Linda wiped water off her forehead. "Hey, take it easy, Fido."
"Sorry. Gosh, I'm hungry."
"I'd conjure something for you, but my magic doesn't seem to be working here."
"Don't bother. This stuff looks okay."
Snowclaw was referring to the tall grass at the pond's edge. He pulled up a clump and chewed the blades. He swallowed, then nodded.
"Not bad."
"Bet it goes better with a little pond scum," Gene suggested.
Snowclaw looked down. "Yeah? You mean that green stuff?"
"Snowy, don't!" Linda yelled, then scolded. "Gene, are you trying to make me sick again?"
"Just trying to be helpful."
"Behave yourself. Let's get back to business. What are we going to do when we get to the basement, if we can make it?'
Gene shrugged. "See what's what?"
"What do we do about the `what'?"
"At least we can report to Incarnadine, tell him whatever the what is."
Linda nodded. "Okay, that sounds feasible. Because we're not going to be canceling this crazy spell, if that's what it is."
"You still think it's a spell gone bad?"
"Yeah, that's what it looks like. Somebody who didn't know what he was doing started something he couldn't finish."
"Or knew what he was doing and wanted to cause trouble."
"Well, he succeeded."
Gene threw a pebble into the pond. "I don't know, nothing's really happened so far. Actually, it's been kind of fun to watch."
"It won't be fun if the spell keeps going, which is exactly what it's going to do if somebody doesn't cancel it."
"What can happen?"
"The castle will become uninhabitable, that's what can happen."
"Oh. Anything else?"
"That's not enough?"
"I see what you mean."
Linda went on. "It'll become so clogged with crazy stuff that no one will ever be able to get in there and douse the spell. And if, as I suspect, this nutty thing is tapped into the castle's power, which is almost infinite… Get the picture?"
Gene watched a ripple reflect from shore and go outward again. "Hm. Never thought of that. All the worlds could be in danger."
"Now you're catching on."
"'Chapter Twenty-one, In Which Our Heroes Once Again Save the Universe."'
"You got it, keed."
"Punny thing is, where the hell is Incarnadine?"
Linda said, "You know, it's only been a few hours since the confusion started. He could have stepped out for something, intending to come right back."
"Right. If only the goofy stuff had begun just a tad earlier. He could have just snapped his fingers and tidied up the whole mess."
"God, I wish." Linda's shoulders fell. "I don't want to go down into any spooky basements."
"Do not be afraid, my dear," Gene said, doing a passable Bela Lugosi. "Those screams are merely the howling of the wind."
Linda frowned. "Gene, don't start with me. I hate spooky stuff, you know that."
"Why, I wasn't starting anything, my dear," he went on, now into his best Boris Karloff. "The basement is merely where I conduct my experiments in cell division and growth. What? You say you've never seen a spider that size? Why, the little devil must have gotten loose-"
Linda stared him down. "Gene," she said warningly.
"I'll stop. Thing is, I don't think we'll make it."
"To the basement? Why not?"
"The congestion is increasing geometrically the farther down we go."
Linda nodded glumly. "Yeah. Well, we have to try."
"We'll need your magic in there."
"No problem. I can create a shield."
"The old magical force screen."
"But it'll make maneuvering harder."
"Always some dues to pay for magic," Gene said.
"True. Well, shall we give it a go?"
"Once more into the dumpster, dear friends." Gene got up. "Let's get moving."
Snowclaw had pulled up a major portion of the grass at the edge of the pond.
"Not much to this stuff," he commented, "but it is tasty. Specially the little dab of mud that comes up from the bottom."
Linda's face soured. "Snowy, you're making me ill."
"Sorry. I'm hungry."
"Snowy, you're always hungry."
"'The sedge has withered from the lake,"' Gene said. "'And no birds sing."'
"Where?" Snowclaw said, looking around eagerly.
"You leave those poor birds alone, Snowy," Linda reprimanded. "We're going now."
"I'm going to be starving in a little while."
"I'll whip up something for you in the castle," Linda assured him. "Come along, Snowclaw."
"Yes, ma'am."
Linda started walking up the hill.
When she'd gotten halfway up, Snowclaw asked, "Are most human females as bossy as Linda is sometimes?"
Gene put a finger to his lips. "Shhh. You are treading very dangerous ground, my friend. Not PC, if you get my drift."
"Huh?'
" `Into the valley of death rode the six hundred,' and all that."
"What?'
"Let's go."
"Oh. All right."
Scratching his massive white head, Snowclaw followed Gene up the hill.
ARENA
The arena shook with the roar of the crowd. Howls of blood lust resounded. The crowd was average for a Saturday night. On the sandy floor at the base of the vast circus, several contests were going on. One, not properly a contest, involved lions attacking helpless victims. Another featured a clash of cavalries, horses neighing and rearing amidst the rising dust of battle. Still another pitted charioteers against spear-carrying men on foot. The former were winning.
Thorsby regained consciousness and sat up. He looked out across the arena, then swung his feet over the edge of his divan.
He tried to get up. He couldn't quite make it and sat back down heavily.
"Is something wrong, great Caesar?"
"Eh? Uh, no. I've had enough. I'm heading up."
"Why, O Magnificent One?"
"I've a bleedin' headache. And besides that, I've seen everything."
"A thousand pardons if I contradict the divine Caesar, but you have seen nothing yet!"
Thorsby looked bleary-eyed at the houri who had entreated him. "Oh? I'd like to know what else there is. I've gobbled all the grub, guzzled all the grog, did all the naughty bits. Wonderful, wonderful, but, really…"
"What is it, Divine One?"
"Well, you know…" Thorsby chuckled. "It's all a spell, really. Just a conjuration. Means nothing, all hocus pocus, don't you know. It was all a bit of fun, but we really have to be getting back to work. Matter of fact, I do think we're in serious trouble already. Where the blazes is Fetchen? Fetchen!"
"Methinks, Divine One, thou knowest not the true trouble thou'rt in."
Thorsby got unsteadily to his feet. "Fetchen, old boy? Now, where did that rascal get to-"
Thorsby's face collided with a massive naked chest. He stepped back and looked up. The owner of the chest was an immense figure in a turban, voluminous pants, and long pointed slippers. The man (if that is what he was) stood with his sinewy arms folded, one hand grasping the haft of an immense scimitar, its wicked curving blade upraised and gleaming.