No, he had to act quickly.
He shook his head wearily. This was more complicated than he had at first thought.
Perhaps he should just give it up, slip into an aspect and disappear. For good. It was a temptation.
But no. There was this hunger in him, and only a steady diet of castle intrigue could satisfy it.
“Gene!”
He spun around. It was the Lady Linda, running to him.
“There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you.”
“You’ve found me,” was all he could think to say, then silently berated himself.
Think fast!
Linda seemed breathless but deeply relieved. “When the servants said that Halfway had disappeared and you weren’t around, I thought, here we go again! Why didn’t you tell somebody? We thought you’d gone through the portal!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have reported directly. When I noticed something was amiss I thought I’d try to get to the bottom of it. Been exploring other aspects.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Some strange things may be happening in the castle.”
Which was true enough.
Linda nodded. “Jeremy just got a message from Incarnadine. He says to expect some kind of disturbance.”
“Indeed?”
“Yeah. Halfway disappearing might be part of a pattern.”
“Did Lord Incarnadine say when he would return?”
“No. For some reason — maybe because of the trouble — he can’t get back from where he is.”
“I see.”
Some capital luck there.
“When we found out you’d disappeared, Snowclaw wanted to rush right out into that world to find you. We had trouble holding him back.”
Snowclaw! That horrid beast, a friend?
“I hope you dissuaded him.”
“We did. Snowy’s not stupid. He knows he’d get into trouble running around on some strange Earth. That is what we have out there, isn’t it? Some alternate Earth with no Halfway House?”
He did not know what Halfway House was, but could guess. In his castle, there was no stable Earth aspect.
“Possibly,” he answered.
“Anyway, the aspect’s still there. It hasn’t disappeared. Something might come through.”
“Let us hope not. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Well, one of the servants told me that the golf course world looks different. I don’t know if that means anything, but Mr. Dalton and Thaxton could be in there, and they could be in trouble.”
“Some men should be dispatched to find them.”
Linda brightened. “Thank God somebody’s up to making some decisions around here. Yes, of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Tyrene doubtless took care of it. One of his duties is looking after Guests.”
“You’re right. The servant probably reported to him. I should have, too, though, just in case.” Linda smacked her forehead with a palm. “I’ve got to get my brain working. Looks like we have another crisis on our hands. But I was so worried about you.”
“No need.”
Sir Gene looked around. So far, so good. But the oafish Gene might appear at any minute, unless he was lost to some strange Earth. Happy thought, that.
He said, “I’m hungry. What say we —?”
“Snowy’s probably back in the dining hall. You’d better go there right away.”
Hm. “Snowy,” indeed. He didn’t relish dealing with the beast, but it looked unavoidable. What’s this, now? She was looking at him strangely.
He asked, “Anything wrong?”
She knitted her brow. “Did you cut your hair or something?”
“Ah … no. Why?”
“You look different somehow. I see you changed back into castle duds.”
“Duds? Oh, yes.” He smoothed the doublet he had filched from the mundane Gene’s room.
“Are you worried about Vaya?”
Vaya? Careful, careful.
“No … not particularly.”
“I’m not worried now that I know you’re safe. I just hope Mr. Dalton and Thaxton get back all right.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Why don’t we go to the dining hall?”
“I’m going to elevator up to the laboratory and talk with Jeremy. I want to see exactly what Incarnadine had to say. Jeremy should have recorded the conversation.”
“Fine. Until later, then.”
“See you.”
Linda went off down the hall. Sir Gene watched the way her buttocks shifted under her brown tights. In this universe the Lady Linda was more demure and somewhat more desirable. The one he had known was foul-mouthed and had bad teeth. In more ways than one, this was the better Castle Perilous.
He was famished! Snowclaw or not, he had to visit the dining hall. Ambition could wait. He strode off to satisfy a more natural hunger.
Eight
Fifth Hole — Par Four
The ball described a precise curved path across the green and dropped into the cup. Dalton straightened up and smiled.
“That’s a birdie three.”
Thaxton was holding the flag. “We really should have a caddy.” He looked forlornly around the course. “Haven’t seen a soul so far.”
“Must be a holiday.”
“Nonsense. There’s something wrong. Besides the landscaping, I mean. Bloody insane.”
The course had changed radically over five holes. Gone was the forest, replaced by pink rocks and stands of palm trees. The sun was hot, and desert breezes dried the sweat.
“Oh, I need a drink,” Thaxton lamented.
“Of course you do. So do I, but we’re playing golf, are we not?”
“Right. Sorry. Here, hold this, will you?”
Thaxton placed his ball and picked up the coin marker. He took his putting stance.
Dalton stood by and watched.
A bead of sweat dripped off Thaxton’s brow. He stood motionless. Then he drew back the putter, brought it carefully forward, and gave the ball a delicate tap.
Thunder sounded, and the ground shook. Thaxton’s ball was perturbed from its path and missed the cup. The ground continued to sway for thirty seconds, then subsided.
“A tremor! Look at that, it spoiled my putt!”
“Tough luck.”
“I get to take that over. I mean, really!”
“Don’t know the club’s rules.”
“You mean I should have to lose a stroke?”
Dalton replaced his putter. “Oh, go ahead if you want to.”
“It’s only fair.”
“Be my guest.”
Thaxton put his hands on his hips. “No, you’re right. Sorry. Don’t know what got into me. Earthquakes are hazards.”
Thaxton tapped the ball in. “Double bogey, damn it all.”
Just then a plume of steam erupted from the ground not far from the fairway. It sounded like a teapot gone mad.
“What the devil’s this, now?”
The steam dissipated. Then they watched smoke and fire pour from a quickly widening vent. Ash drifted down and began powdering the rocks.
“Looks like the start of a volcano,” Dalton said.
“I suppose volcanoes are hazards, too.”
“Certainly. Shall we move on?”
“I’m with you.”
They made for the beginning of a path that wound its way through an oasis. A mushroom cloud of black smoke rose at their backs, and gray ash sifted onto the fairway.
The gravel path wound through date palms and mimosa. Pink blossoms spangled the shrubbery. Dalton paused and drank it all in.
“Nice place for a picnic. ‘A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — ’ Omar Khayyám never had it so good.”