Part 12 (2/2)

The warlock broke into high mirth, greeting his servants. ”Youve seen this before, eh? Tricks with perspective, you see. s.p.a.ce...used to its best advantage. Once the ancients traveled between worlds like this. Worlds within-and without, samurai. Ahhh... Everything is science somewhere. Do you know of science? Repeatable, controllable phenomena. But its all magic, here. Come-try it. It works best right along the corridor wall. Glide with your back to the wall. Youll feel the doorways flying past. Just ignore them and make for the farther end of the hall. I want to show you something down there.”

Gonji was wary, but he tried it first, gesturing rea.s.suringly when Salguero raised a cautioning hand. Buey took to the wall facing Gonji, following the warlock. They cross-stepped with their backs to the granite blocks, finding that the phenomenon was exactly as Domingo had described. Archways flitted past their backs, warping into thinness, as if rolling past under their own power, while the guests felt no sensation of speed themselves, just their stomachs turning in antic.i.p.ation of same. To Gonjis perspective, Salguero, Orozco, and the hall behind receded swiftly, as though propelled by a gigantic pulley. The pair soon joined them, blood thrumming at their temples as they regathered at the end of the hall. Orozco seemed a bit giddy, looking back as if he would try it again out of childlike delight.

Domingo beamed with smug satisfaction and directed them down a flight of steep stairs to a sub-cellar two levels below ground. In a dank, mossy chamber, he held up a hand and addressed them with twinkling eyes.

”Now prepare yourselves for a strange sight.”

The rear wall turned to mist and dissipated. They experienced a sudden sense of vertigo. They were peering outward and down-down onto the rooftops of the town of Barbaso. Not a miniature, but the city viewed from a height, crawling with life. People screamed and pointed up at the darkness that had abruptly filled the early evening sky.

”Terrific, eh?” the warlock whispered with enthusiasm. ”Now watch-watch-”

He fluttered a finger up and down between his lips such that his voice reverberated as if under water, when he p.r.o.nounced loudly: ”People of Barbaso-fear not-your soldiers are my guests.”

Peering down at the wild reaction in the streets, he held a hand over his mouth to smother his laughter. Then he waved them back with a rush to the bleak stairwell.

”I do so love doing that,” he said, cackling all the while as they climbed. ”But a little bit goes a long way, as they say, so Ive had to keep myself in check.”

”That was Barbaso?” Salguero asked, disturbed. ”Not an illusion?”

”Of course.”

”Why havent you just destroyed it, then? Rain down molten lead-or monsters?” Orozco punctuated his inquiry with a pragmatic shrug.

”For one thing,” Domingo answered, ”thats not a proper doorway, merely a sort of viewport. Sound travels through it but not solid matter. True interspheric gateways never show whats beyond them, in my experience. That makes for some exciting discoveries! By the way, how does it sound down there? I just love to see them scurry-”

”You are as evil as they say,” Captain Salguero grated as they moved down the foreshortened corridor again. ”Evil in that most devious way Satan reserves for himself and his minions. Playing on poor peoples fear-”

”Oh, dragonfarts!” the Archmage railed. ”Evil, evil, evil-thats all you church fanatics ever see in mysteries that wont submit to your heel. Tell me what evil there is in warding off a ma.s.s attack against my privacy. What evil have I done you personally that cant be dismissed as defense of whats mine?”

”The monsters you arrayed against us-” Salguero roared. ”I suppose all the slaughtered men in my command simply died by illusion as well.”

”The giant,” Orozco reminded.

”Ah, the giant!” Domingo repeated sarcastically. ”Tell me, did he-did he make you loose your bowels by his very sight? He climbs rocks all day and sniffs out unfamiliar flowers. Jesu Christi, he wouldnt even have any meat to eat if other creatures would stop attacking him out of blind fear and ignorance.”

”What of the banshee, Domingo?” Gonji asked in a quiet voice, his eyes narrowing to penetrating slits.

”That death-b.i.t.c.h is no device of mine. Someone else has set that fiend loose. Now you want to talk about evil-there is evil. I told you there were other parties to this bewildering power struggle. And not only here in Hispania. I dont even understand the alignment anymore, but I believe your presence has something to do with it all, wayfarer.”

He had addressed Gonji, who started in spite of himself to be singled out in this fas.h.i.+on. It was not the first time hed been accused of perpetrating movements of power beyond his ken.

”The birdmen-” Orozco tossed in.

”A tragic race. Lay no evil charge on their already heavy burden. And the wayfarer here seems to be an old friend of theirs.”

”The wolves-”

”The maids in the fire-rings that turn to filth, to-to some sort of monsters out of-”

The warlock snorted. ”Wolves have to eat. In any event, theyve become uncontrollable of late. I dont know whats got at them. They seem oddly...directed, though not by me, and as for the faery-ring maidens...” He turned to Gonji. ”The evil dead are unleashed from their graves, wayfarer. That is an ill omen. But I dont dabble in necromancy. Never have, nor any of my line before me-unless, perhaps, my wayward great-grandfather. Its so vulgar-”

He directed them into an opulent parlor that caused Gonji to wince with evident disdain. It was a riot of designs and accoutrements, a nightmare of ornamentation, like the inside of an enormous jewelry case. Red velvet and gold inlay covered the walls. The ceilings were hung with arras of Asian and Turkish influence, while the golden cresset lamps that studded the walls were filigreed in rococo patterns. Gemstones of various sizes and colors reflected the lamplight in rainbow shards from settings in obscure corners. And gossamer webworks in delicate patterns divided the room into sections, wisping aside as one moved through them, retracting from the touch of even the gentlest extended hand.

”Silk from the Moonspinner,” Domingo explained to Gonji. ”Invaluable now, thanks to you.”

”A vicious creature, despite the high artistry,” the samurai observed.

”Mmm.” The warlock waxed reflective. ”I suppose youre right. But she, too, had to eat, once shed been drawn from the natural prey of her native world. And I directed only enemies to her hunting ground. Merchants and harmless travelers were guided through safely-until they stopped coming. No non-militants ever come to my beloved valley now. Goods become scarce. Oh-youll pardon the decadent effect here. Its what comes of centuries of changes in n.o.ble taste, eh?”

Domingo moved to a stand of what looked like silver cattails or wind chimes. These he stirred with a brush of his hand, and they began to play a soft melody, perpetually altering its variations and replete with refrains. Gonji was mystified. The sound was a close approximation of the gentle strains of the samisen, whose ethereal music filled his youthful memories. He saw Domingo smiling at him.

”Familiar, eh?”

Gonji bowed. ”Domo arigato.”

”Now,” the warlock urged, ”make yourselves comfortable. I will rejoin you presently. Do not be alarmed, now-ex corporam.”

Domingos body collapsed on the plush carpet, lifeless.

Buey was the first to draw his pistol, sucking in a sharp breath. Salguero and Orozco followed suit, glancing from the fallen form to their surroundings, expecting some imponderable attack.

”Kyoos.h.i.+?” the captain called in confusion and urgency.

Only Gonji had not produced a weapon. His swords still sashed in his obi, he knelt beside the small body and examined it closely. To their joint surprise, Domingo abruptly rose again, smiling dimly at each of them in turn.

But it was not Domingo. Not the person who had just shared their company. Something was missing. The light of intelligence in the now witless eyes. The small man seemed a bit wambly, at first, then swiftly regained his balance, tumbling in front of them and rising to spread his arms in a gesture that courted applause.

Salguero grabbed him by the arms. ”What is going on? Tell us what trick you play now. Our patience grows short.”

”Salguero,” Gonji cautioned.

But the little jester pulled away, displaying no sense of being threatened. Pointing to his throat and shaking his head vapidly, he cartwheeled from the ornate salle and on into the corridor, slower and with less verve than he had shown before.

CHAPTER TEN.

The four guests at Castle Malaguer were served dinner in the opulent salle. They partook of a thick potpourri that featured a variety of meats and vegetables, fresh bread, and wine from Madrid. Their fare was set on a st.u.r.dy, intricately carved French dining table, having been procured by servants under the watchful gaze of a stuffy chief steward.

The elegant cus.h.i.+ons they sat upon reminded Gonji of the futons of his homeland, save for one major difference: These cus.h.i.+ons floated magically, producing height and distance adjustments made in response to slight nudges of ones posterior. And when one alighted, the cus.h.i.+ons gently descended to rest on the floor until used again.

Orozco and Buey, relaxing with the wines spreading warmth and their gradual adjustment to the strange environment, soon learned to put the cus.h.i.+ons gyrations to the test. Salguero finally put an end to their pranks in the name of military dignity after Buey took a backward tumble that landed him on his face.

They were in the middle of their repast when joined by a stranger who shocked them with the announcement that they were now truly in the presence of Domingo Malaga y Colicos.

This Domingo was not a warlock. She was a witch.

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