So the tapestry had to match the actual scene exactly; that did not seem to be the problem here, however, since the tapestry he wanted to know about had worked at one time. The lighting had to be exactly right; presumably it was. The Book mentioned, cryptically and without further explanation, that this could affect travel time; Tobas was puzzled by that, since using the tapestries virtually eliminated travel time altogether. He guessed it had something to do with the angle of the sun’s light, but could not imagine how it would work.
The tapestry would transport anyone and anything; selectivity was not the problem. The spell was not known to wear out or need renewal.
He wondered if the problem might be related to the fact that the flying castle had crashed in an area where wizardry did not function; since the magic was on the sending end, rather than the receiving one, that did not seem reasonable; but then, as every magician knows, magic is often unreasonable.
Could the tilted floor of the flying castle affect something? After all, the tapestry depicted the room as level, while it was actually sloping rather steeply. But the picture did not specifically show up or down; there were no hanging objects out of place, or anything of that sort. Tilting the tapestry to the angle of the fallen castle might be worth trying, but he doubted it would make any difference.
None of those sounded like a sufficient reason for the tapestry’s failure, though any of them might be involved somehow.
He closed the book and sat back, thinking. He had the feeling that, in time, he would be able to figure out what the problem was, and possibly even right it, but at this particular moment he did not feel himself to be up to further study. He was utterly exhausted. The explanation would have to wait.
Whatever it might be, unless it proved to be simply a pulled thread or the tapestry’s angle, he was certain he would be in this castle for several days, at the very least, and perhaps for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER 22
Karanissa gave him the use of a comfortable, richly furnished bedchamber near Derithon’s study and provided him with a few of Derithon’s clothes; these fit loosely, but were far better than the worn and filthy outfit he had been wearing constantly since leaving Dwomor, the only clothes he had owned since Roggit’s hut burned.
The witch also ordered one of the three invisible servants, the least of the three, to wait on him. At first Tobas found the thing unsettling, this one was no mere sentient wind, like the one he had seen her command to bring food, but something small that skittered about, making nasty little squeaking noises and leaving wet spots on the floor. It would, however, fetch him small objects or run to bring Karanissa when he told it to.
He was unsure which spells had created the three servants; there were several in Derithon’s book that seemed as if they might apply, from someone-or-other’s Homuncular Animation to Lugwiler’s Haunting Phantasm. He wondered whether he might find a way of conjuring up something more agreeable; he did not care for his servant’s way of tittering unexpectedly at odd moments, startling him. One such uncalled-for giggle had caused him to spill a chamber pot, and when he had, in righteous anger, ordered the thing to clean up the mess, he was fairly certain it had licked up most of it, which was downright nauseating.
After that he did not ask it to clean anything.
For some time, he had no way of knowing just how long, he simply rested, eating and sleeping and studying Derithon’s books or talking to Karanissa when he was neither tired nor hungry.
He also took a few hours to acquaint himself with the castle; it was larger and more complex than he had thought. In fact, it was larger and more complex than he had thought possible; it seemed significantly larger inside than out.
Of course, he knew nothing about this alternate reality in which it hung. Perhaps it was larger inside than out.
Karanissa used about a dozen rooms ordinarily, and those were pleasant enough; she had the servants keep them supplied with lamps and candles, and the windows, with their unsettling purplish glow, were kept shuttered. The routes to important areas, gate, kitchen, tapestry room, and garden, were stocked with torches that the servants could light on a moment’s notice when needed. In the gate itself a pair of torches were kept lit at all times; Karanissa explained that she had originally insisted on this as a sign of welcome for Derithon when he returned, and Tobas, seeing her expression, did not point out the obvious fact that Derithon was never coming and that there was, therefore, no more reason to maintain them.
The rest of the huge structure was left unlit and empty, but even the darkest, most obscure little cubbyhole was clean and dust-free; when not waiting on their mistress, the servants spent their time blowing away dust and cobwebs. Since they never slept, and Karanissa slept as much as possible, they had plenty of time for routine maintenance.
Perhaps it was something about the air or the light, but Tobas could find no trace of decay anywhere in the castle proper. Nothing was mildewed or rotting, despite the extreme age of the place, so that it was hard to believe that it was all actually four or five hundred years old.
The entire structure was fraught with magical curiosities, such as the corridor that led to one room if one walked down the center and an entirely different one if one walked along either side, or the tower window that gave an inverted view of the rest of the castle. Tobas wondered whether Derithon had planned any of these quirks or whether they had simply happened as a side effect of the castle’s magical creation; Karanissa had never given the matter any thought and could give him no answer.
He discovered the castle’s vast magical gardens almost by accident in the strange spiral-sloped courtyard behind the kitchens. The outer part, where flowers grew, he found quite pleasant, despite the way the colors were distorted by the unnatural glow of the void and despite the way Karanissa had to warn him away from some of the more poisonous or otherwise dangerous blossoms. The inner part also seemed nice enough at first, the tiny apple trees almost buried beneath their own abundant full-sized fruit, the stalks of corn that threw their own shucked ears into his hand if he held it out, but when he came to the source of the castle’s endless supply of beef, he became quite queasy. The beef plants did not bother to recreate the head, hooves, or hide, but did possess all the other anatomical attributes of the cattle they mimicked, though not necessarily in the same arrangement real cattle used. The sight of beating hearts and breathing lungs atop fleshy purple-green stalks, with rich blood coursing through the arteries that were strung about like vines and the smell of fresh, raw meat billowing forth like perfume, thoroughly unsettled him, especially in the ruddy light.
Tobas spent a few futile hours trying to figure out what combinations of spells had produced the various monstrosities, but eventually gave it up. It sufficed that the garden was there and functioning.
Except, Karanissa pointed out, it was not functioning perfectly; here time had taken some slight toll, and some of the plants had died, withered, or become diseased, so that over the years her diet had become less varied. She had beef, corn, apples, and a variety of other grains and fruits, as well as an assortment of vegetables and cheeses; but except for one small and not very productive chicken bush, the fowl were all long since vanished; the lamb, mutton, and pork had become inedible, and the candies and cordials that had once been her special delight were dead and gone. Any sort of food or drink not provided by the garden had run out long ago, save for the vast wine cellars, and those were reduced to half a dozen bottles of ancient, barely potable stuff that she saved for special occasions.