*****
“What is this place?” I asked as Rune and I went up the stairs.
“Castle Permovren,” Rune replied, as if it were obvious.
“I mean, where did it come from?”
“Honestly, it was always there,” he said. “It just didn’t materialize until we were ready to go in.”
“I would have liked to have been inside when the lightning struck,” I declared.
Rune chuckled. “Those thunderbolts were purely for effect, with no ability to do actual harm — except maybe to eardrums.”
I was about to comment, but at that moment we reached the top of the steps and the double doors opened. Standing there, dressed in blue-and-gray livery like some kind of majordomo, was a tall fellow with a thick black beard and long braided hair.
“Welcome back, Chomarsus,” the apparent majordomo said to Rune. “It has been too long since you graced us with your presence.”
“Too true, Dalmion,” Rune replied as we stepped inside. “Too true.”
Looking around, I saw that we were in a large foyer, with hallways and corridors branching off in numerous directions. Although the castle was obviously sizable — something I’d been able to discern while we were outside — the interior was very different than what I anticipated in terms of decorations. In essence, I had been expecting lavish furnishings, expensive artwork, marble columns, and more. Instead, the interior was essentially drab and unadorned, with everything I saw reflecting rather simple tastes.
“Ah,” Dalmion muttered, looking at me as he closed the doors. “I see you have finally acquired a laamuffal.”
“Uh…” Rune droned, glancing at me. “Something like that.”
“Excellent,” the majordomo said with a smile. “It’s well past time.”
I frowned. “What’s a llama-ful?”
“You don’t know?” Dalmion asked, looking surprised. “Well, it’s–”
“We’ll be heading to my suite now,” Rune cut in. “Thank you, Dalmion.”
“Of course, Chomarsus,” Dalmion said, inclining his head slightly. “Please call on me if I can be of service.”
With that, Dalmion left us.
“Come on,” Rune said, and began walking down one of the hallways.
Falling into step beside him, I asked, “So, what was that word that guy — Dalmion — used back there?”
“Chomarsus?” Rune intoned. “It’s just a colloquial term for an Incarnate.”
I shook my head. “No, not that. The other word — llama-ful.”
“Laamuffal,” Rune corrected, putting the accent on the middle syllable. “It, uh, it just means that you’re here with me.”
“You mean like your guest?”
“Sure, yeah. Like that.”
I didn’t say anything, but had my empathic senses turned up to the max. As was often the case with Rune, I didn’t really detect anything, but my gut was telling me there was more to the story.
“And here we are,” Rune announced, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked up, and then turned to my companion, baffled. We had stopped in front of a bare wall, about ten feet in height and stretching about fifteen feet to either side of us.
Ignoring my befuddlement, Rune tapped the middle of the wall with the end of his staff. At the place where his staff made contact, a bright amber-colored dot appeared. Almost immediately, the dot began extending itself in a vertical line, simultaneously heading for the floor and the ceiling. When it reached those two junctures, the line split and began running horizontal — to the right and left — at both ends.
By this time, I had an inkling of what was happening, and my suspicions were proven correct a moment later when the line’s split ends all began running vertical again, with the two at the ceiling heading down and the two at the floor cruising up. Seconds later, the ends of the line all joined, framing the contours of two conjoined rectangles before flashing brightly and disappearing.
Rune put out a hand and pushed on the center line between the two rectangles, which I now recognized as doors. They swung inward easily, revealing a large, lavish apartment that was easily on par with the penthouse or presidential suite of any luxury hotel. Stepping in, we found ourselves surrounded by opulence on all sides, from vaulted ceilings to posh furnishings to marble floors to a baby grand piano. It was in stark contrast to what I had observed during our jaunt through the castle, and I said as much to Rune as the doors closed behind us.
“If you wield enough power,” he stated in response, “for a long enough time, you’ll quickly realize that appearances are quite often immaterial — especially in terms of possessions. What really matters is comfort and utility. A solid gold chair might look good and seem impressive, but sitting it in all day would be dolorous. A good old recliner would be much more relaxing.”
I thought about this for a moment. “So you’re saying that Incarnates have evolved beyond being impressed by gaudy displays of wealth and power.”
“What I’m saying is that it’s hard to be impressed when almost nothing is beyond your reach,” Rune explained. “If you’re a billionaire, you aren’t wowed if one of your peers buys a ten-year-old station wagon. You can just go buy one of your own — or a thousand, if you’re really into that kind of thing.”
“And to you guys, everything’s a ten-year-old station wagon,” I surmised.
“Not everything, but…” He trailed off, shrugging.
“So why all this?” I asked, gesturing toward our opulent surroundings. “Why outfit this place as the lap of luxury if you don’t care about appearances?”
Rune’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “You don’t like it?”
“I think it’s great,” I replied. “It’s actually…”
My words came to a halt and I frowned as a new thought occurred to me, based on the discussion we’d just had.
“Wait a minute,” I muttered, glancing around at our lavish accommodations. “Is all of this for my benefit?”
Rune gave a somewhat hesitant nod. “Since I asked for your help, I thought it only fitting that I put you up in style.”
“I appreciate it, but it wasn’t necessary.”
“Consider it a small token of my esteem,” Rune said. “Anyway, moving on to more important issues.” He pointed toward a wooden door set in a wall on one side of
