“What is it, Osmirik?”
“There is an impostor loose in the castle, someone claiming to be you!”
Incarnadine said calmly, “Tell me all about it.”
“This man has brought an invading force, my lord, dressed as Guardsmen and claiming to be Guardsmen. I have information that they are led by a man who is a double of Tyrene. The man claiming to be you is also a double, and from all reports a convincing one, at least on sight.”
“Interesting. Have any idea where they come from?”
“No idea, Your Majesty. Everyone is mystified. There has been sporadic resistance among our forces, but the problem of course is knowing which are our forces and which are not. Not many of our castle folk are convinced that the impostor is you, but there is widespread confusion.”
“No doubt confusion reigns. Tyrene — our Tyrene — probably has his hands full, and we have a full-scale problem on ours.”
“Yes, my lord. To compound the chaos, some of the Guardsmen have seen their own impostors among the invaders.”
“That clinches it. It’s a mirror aspect.”
“A mirror aspect?”
“Another result of the same interstitial disturbance. It’s an ordinary aspect that has turned into a mirror image of the castle itself. Sometimes the image is true, sometimes wildly at variance with the original. I’ve never run into it personally, but my ancestors have. Though there’s nothing in the record about a mirror castle invading. It’s a crazy notion.”
“It does beggar credulity, my lord.”
“But it seems to have happened. Jeremy, you’ll have to throw a spell around the lab to protect yourself. Isis, do you think you can help Jeremy with that?”
“It’ll be simple, my lord, compared to the other project.”
“Yes, but you’ll be dealing with my double. He may be my double in everything, including magical power and knowledge of the castle’s secrets, as well as its spells. Understand? We’ll have to devise something out of the ordinary. Osmirik, could you come up with a puzzler out of some dusty old grimoire — you know, the real arcane stuff? There is the chance the impostor might not be the lover of antiquities that I am. It might give him trouble, at least temporarily.”
“I may be able to oblige, my liege, though I shall have to be quick about it. Access to the library may already be threatened.”
“Go then, and be quick.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Osmirik rushed out of the lab.
“Jeremy, I don’t know what to tell you. Just get the big spell ready, and … well, I suppose I’ll get there when I get there.”
“Yes, sir. Is that all?”
“Yeah, except remember what I said about not risking your life.”
“It looks like our lives are at risk as it is.”
“Maybe, but don’t do anything rash. Keep a low profile, and get that protection spell up as quickly as you can.”
Jeremy said, “I’ll do my best, but …”
“What is it?”
“Well, I’m still not used to all this magic stuff. Please don’t expect any miracles.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself.”
“He always does, my lord,” Isis said reprovingly.
“We all know about Jeremy’s chronic inferiority bugaboo. Disabuse yourself of all that crap, mister. That’s an ironclad, kingly order.”
Jeremy reddened. “Yes, sir.”
Incarnadine’s face split into a grin. “Tell my doppelganger not to do anything I wouldn’t do. I’ll try to keep in touch. See you later.”
Incarnadine’s hand came up in front of his face, and his image faded.
Jeremy and Isis sat staring at the darkened screen.
“He’s such a great man,” Isis said:
“Yeah.” After a moment, Jeremy yanked open a drawer, rummaged through it, and came up with a package of Hostess Twinkies. Linda kept him supplied. He ripped open the cellophane and stuffed one golden loaf-shaped cake into his mouth. “Excuse me,” he said with a full mouth, “but I’m starved.”
Isis smiled. “Go right ahead. Would you like some coffee with that?”
Jeremy nodded. He sat and chewed while his “assistant” got him coffee. Jeremy knew she was more than that. In fact, he couldn’t have accomplished anything without her. He should be getting her coffee.
His gaze drifted to the Voyager, which sat up on its platform across the floor of the lab. He shook his head ruefully. There had to be a way.
Sixteen
The Mountains of Marnass
He lifted his hand from the rippling water and watched his image waver in it. The faces of Jeremy and Isis were gone. He watched the surface of the melt pond until it grew still again. His image confronted him with a questioning stare.Who is real, you or me?
“Don’t really know, my friend.”
He went to his horse, which he had tethered to an evergreen bush. The animal had cooled off enough for him to allow it to take water. He led it to the rock-rimmed pond and let it drink of melted snows.
A bracing wind blew across the peaks and down, whistling through stands of pine and fir. The scenery reminded him of the Rocky Mountains, western Colorado specifically. The hellwind had blown him across half a continent and deposited him on these slopes. It had been a strange sensation watching the ground drop away and feeling the horse beat its hooves against nothing but air. But beat it did, as on some invisible highway in the sky. The storm had lashed around him, lightning forking perilously close.
Too forking close for comfort, he thought.
Riding a hellwind took a lot out of you. His mount was completely worn out. He needed to stop and rest, but time was short. What he really needed was a fresh mount. He had no idea where he could get one.
He led his horse downward. Clouds bunched at the peak above. The cry of a mountain bird came to his ears as the trail wound through trees and boulders.
After an hour’s descent he stopped, standing on a flat boulder and surveying the slope ahead. There was something unusual below. A huge bronze statue reclined on a base of stone set into the hillside. The figure was winged, and from the back looked very unusual. Leading his tired mount once more, he went down to get a better look. On the way a possible plan of action occurred to him.
He stood before a stone altar and looked up at the thing. It was a creature with the head and bust of a woman, great feathered wings, and a powerful leonine body. The bronze was tinted with the blue-green of verdigris. The statue was probably ages old.
“Hello, there,” he said to it. “Now, aren’t you a riddle.”
The woman’s face was broad-browed and severely beautiful, the breasts full and out-thrusting. Long hair fell over the shoulders. The eyes looked out across the valley below, staring into the mists of the peaks beyond. There was character in the face; a spirit somehow radiated from the cold bronze. Such had been the skill of the artificer. The great wings were lifted as if the creature were poised on the brink of flight.
“Must be cold and lonely on this mountainside,” he mused. “Maybe we can work something out.”
He went back to the trail and searched among the shards of stone along its edge. He found what he needed and came back to the flagstone platform in front of the statue. He knelt and began to draw, his stylus a bit of limestone.
A complex figure took shape under his hand. It was partly geometrical, partly free-form. Intricate tracery flowered to one side, a column of arcane symbols running opposite.
When he was done he looked it over and nodded. He tossed the stone aside and stood in the center of the device. He held out his arms and began a chant.
The words were of some sibilant tongue, the phrases long and involuted. In the sky above, dark clouds gathered and hid the sun. A flash exploded out of their midst and a crack of thunder sounded. Another.