But he didn’t eat red meat.
“The jewel has to stay,” Rordray said. “Why do you think these walls are still standing?”
Karskon didn’t answer.
“The quake that sank Atlantis, the quake that put this entire peninsula under water. Wouldn’t it have shaken down stone walls? But this palace dates from the Sorcerer’s Guild period. Magic spells were failing, but not always. The masons built this palace of good, solid stone. Then they had the structure blessed by a competent magician.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. The walls would have been shaken down without the blessing and some source of mana to power it. You see the problem. Remove the talisman, the castle crumbles.”
He might be right, Karskon thought. But not until both emeralds were gone, and Karskon too.
Rordray was still out of reach. He didn’t handle that kitchen knife like a swordsman, and in any case it was too short to be effective. At a dead run Karskon thought he could catch the beefy chef…but what of Durily, and the spell that held back the water?
Fool! She had the other jewel, the spying-stone!
He charged.
Rordray whirled and ran down the hall. The ghost-fog swirled apart as he burst through. He was faster than he looked, but Karskon was faster still. His sword was nearly pricking Rordray’s buttocks when Rordray suddenly leapt over the bannister.
Karskon leaned over the dark water. The ghosts crowded around him were his only light source now.
Rordray surfaced, thirty feet above the ballroom floor and well out into the water, laughing. “Well, my guest, can you swim? Many mainlanders can’t.”
Karskon removed his boots. He might wait, let Rordray tire himself treading water; but Durily must be tiring even faster, and growing panicky as she wondered where he had gone. He couldn’t leave Rordray at their backs.
He didn’t dive; he lowered himself carefully into the water, then swam toward Rordray. Rordray backstroked, grinning. Karskon followed. He was a fine swimmer.
Rordray was swimming backward into a corner of the ballroom. Trapping himself. The water surface rose behind him, curving up the wall. Could Rordray swim uphill?
Rordray didn’t try. He dove. Karskon dove after him, kicking, peering down. There were patches of luminosity, confusing…and a dark shape far below…darting away at a speed Karskon couldn’t hope to match. Appalled, Karskon lunged to the surface, blinked, and saw Rordray clamber over the railing. He threw Karskon’s boots at his head and dashed back toward the King’s “secret” bedroom.
The old woman was still waiting, with the King’s ghost for her companion. Rordray tapped her shoulder. He said, “Boo.”
She froze, then tottered creakily around to face him. “Where is Karskon?”
“In the ballroom.”
Water was flowing down the walls, knee-high and rising. Rordray was smiling as at a secret joke, as he’d smiled while watching her savor her first bite of his incredible swordfish. It meant something different now.
Durily said, “Very well, you killed him. Now, if you want to live, get me that jewel and I will resume the spells. If our plans succeed I can offer Karskon’s place in the new nobility to you or your son. Otherwise we both drown.”
“Karskon could tell you why I refuse. I need the magic in the jewel to maintain my inn. With the traveling jewel Karskon brought me, this structure will remain stable for many years.” Rordray didn’t seem to notice that the King’s ghost was clawing at his eyes.
The water was chest high. “Both jewels, or we don’t leave,” the old woman said, and immediately resumed her spell, hands waving wildly, voice raspy with effort. She felt Rordray’s hands on her body and squeaked in outrage, then in terror, as she realized he was tickling her. Then she doubled in helpless laughter.
The water walls were collapsing, flowing down. The odd, magical bubble was collapsing around him. Clawing at the stone bannister, Karskon heard his air supply roaring back up the stairwell, out through the broken windows, away. A wave threw him over the bannister, and he tried to find his footing, but already it was too deep. Then the air was only a few silver patches on the ceiling, and the seawash was turning him over and over.
A big dark shape brushed past him, fantastically agile in the roiling currents, gone before his sword-arm could react. Rordray had escaped him. He swam toward one of the smashed ballroom windows, knowing he wouldn’t make it, trying anyway. The faint glow ahead might be King Nihilil, guiding him. Then it all seemed to fade, and he was breathing water, strangling.
Rordray pulled himself over the top step, his flippers already altering to hands. He was gasping, blowing. It was a long trip, even for a sea lion.
The returning sea had surged up the steps and sloshed along the halls and into the rooms where Rordray and his family dwelt. Rordray shook his head. For a few days they must needs occupy the next level up: the inn, which was now empty.
The change to human form was not so great a change, for Rordray. He became aware of one last wisp of fog standing beside him.
“Well,” it said, “how’s the King?”
“Furious,” Rordray said. “But after all, what can he do? I thank you for the warning.”
“I’m glad you could stop them. My curse on their crazy rebellion. We’ll all f-fade away in time, I guess, with the magic dwindling and dwindling. But not just yet, if you please!”
“War is bad for everyone,” said Rordray.
SPIRALS
with Jerry Pournelle
There are always people who want to revise history. No hero is so great that someone won’t take a shot at him. Not even Jack Halfey.
Yes, I knew Jack Halfey. You may not remember my name. But in the main airlock of Industrial Station One there’s an inscribed block of industrial diamond, and my name is sixth down: Cornelius L. Riggs, Metallurgist. And you might have seen my face at the funeral.
You must remember the
