The background music?
“There’s an arch out there,” he told her. “Keep a watch and out of sight. I’ve got to find out what’s going on up there.”
She didn’t approve, but didn’t have a say in the matter. A steep stone stair led up to the next level from each archway. Keeping close to the wall and hoping that nobody was looking out the other side, he went up, halted just before the top, then cautiously peered into a huge area and gasped.
Well, there was Macore’s equipment, all of it. The tiny television had been recharged or was getting some kind of magical charge its transformer could handle, as was the small portable video tape recorder. The room was full, almost densely packed, with dozens, maybe many dozens, of the same sort of soulless, brainless living dead they’d seen on the plateau what seemed ages before.
Here, then, was the entire missing zombie staff, standing there, motionless, transfixed, watching Gilligan’s Island.
He made his way back down to Mia and told her what he’d seen.
“But, Master—they have no souls or wills of their own! How can they possibly be watching a show!”
“I don’t have an explanation for that, and I don’t think I want an explanation for that,” he told her. “Maybe there’s some weird frequency in the thing that scrambles the spell. Maybe it’s just that the show has finally found its perfect audience.” He shook his head in wonder. “It’s enough for now to know where those creatures are and not have to worry about them. Let’s get going! People are going to start waking up and be all over here any time now, no matter what!”
Still, Joe was worried about just how easy it was to get in, and just how empty the passages were. True, here and there they had been required to flatten themselves to the wall or crouch behind something, or duck outside or in, but the place overall seemed ominously deserted, as if everything and everyone of importance had moved elsewhere, leaving nothing but a maintenance staff. That idea disturbed him more than a dozen sword-fights and magicians—that, after all they had gone through, they were too late or, almost as bad, were in the wrong place.
In the main hall of the second tower, Mia turned to him as if to say, “Now what?” and he motioned for her to go cautiously up the stairs.
The first tower level proved to be sleeping quarters, and in the halls were both Bentar guards and some female slaves going back and forth, all as naked and shorn as Mia. That gave her an idea.
“They won’t know one female slave from another, particularly the Bentar, Master,” she whispered. “Let me just see who’s here by pretending to be one of the staff.”
He nodded, figuring he could cover her, and also figuring that, at this point, they had little to lose. Again, he had to admire her guts, handing him her knife and simply walking brazenly down the hall. As she’d suspected, the Bentar gave her not a second glance, all humans probably looking alike to them, anyway, and if the handful of slaves there noticed a stranger they did not react. The odds were that there were a fair number of slaves here, if only to feed the egos of the masters, and quite often new ones would turn up these days.
Joe remained in the stairwell, nervous that someone would come down or come up, but Mia managed to make the circuit, looking as if she were on a real task for somebody, and come back before anyone did.
“All sleeping quarters, Master. They are simply cleaning up.
I do not like to say so, but this level does not look very used. At best, there was one or two rooms that appeared slept in.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m beginning to get a real sinking feeling about this. Let’s move up.”
The second tower level seemed deserted, but there were only a few doors on either side, so they made their way cautiously down on both sides, then opened the doors. One proved to be a sort of sorcerer’s laboratory, but with almost everything looking closed and put away, not used for some time. The other was some kind of meeting or briefing room. Joe was about to signal a move up again when there came the sounds of heavy boots ascending the stairs. He and Mia quickly ducked into the meeting room and shut the door, hoping that this wasn’t the morning guard showing up for a briefing right there.
The bright light of day pouring through the windows along the far wall made Joe suddenly realize how late it was getting. “We might have to hide in here most of the day,” he told her in a low tone. “Moving around until dusk is going to be more and more difficult, no matter how empty this place is.”
“Uh-Master?”
“Yes?”
“Do you notice that the room seems to be getting darker?”
He turned and tensed. Sure enough, in spite of the light from outside, it did seem to be getting significantly darker inside.
There was a sudden sound from above and in back of them, metallic yet not like a sword, and suddenly, from overhead, an enormous bright light shone down, the product of a candle set inside an assemblage of mirrors to form a basic spotlight aimed at the small stage in front.
Tense, sword drawn, Joe turned back to where that spotlight shone.
“Ta tata, ta tola, ta ta dah dah dah dee!” a sexy woman’s voice hummed playfully from the stage. From stage left, the spotlight caught just a leg, curved suggestively, and then, from behind, the woman stepped out.
The soul inside and the amount of time that had passed made the same body look far less like the old Mahalo McMahon; this was a gorgeous, sexy sex kitten, at once playful, sensuous, erotic as hell, and, for all that, dangerous. Then big brown eyes darted momentarily over in their direction, and just for a moment a wicked, playful smile came to her face, and Esmilio Boquillas shone through.
In a soft, sexy voice, she sang, “I enjoy bein’ a guy bein’ a girl like me.”
She looked down at the pair, and the smile broadened. “Sorry, but I do so like a good entrance.”
Joe didn’t wait, starting a spring right toward the stage, but she lifted up a hand and a series of yellow magic strings sprang from it and held both him and Mia fast. He couldn’t move forward. He stopped struggling and relaxed.
“You’ve got your powers back!” he said, amazed.
“A mere shadow of my former powers,” she responded, “but enough for the likes of the two of you.”
“How long have you known we were here?”
“Why, darling, I’ve been simply mad waiting for you to arrive! I knew the moment we discovered that the little thief had been captured over on the other side that you would have to follow. In fact, I’ve been waiting ages, ever since I let that little spy escape with the news that we had your old bodies here. Good old Ruddygore! I just knew he wouldn’t fail me!”
“It will be Judgment Day before Ruddygore helps you, and you know it!”
“Oh, but he has helped. More than I could ever have done on my own. In fact, I owe it all to him. First, his silly little ego that made him think he could control Boquillas like a puppet and that a Boquillas with enough foresight to have prepared this soul transfer as a last resort into this marvelous body wouldn’t also prepare defenses against the sort of control spells he’d use. Second, not realizing, as I would not have, that he’d done what the whole Council couldn’t, given me some power again on my own. More than enough with my mind to unravel his leashes.”
“How did you get those powers back?” Joe asked, testing occasionally die spell that kept him where he was and to no avail. “They said when the Council lifted somebody’s power it was impossible ever to get it back.”