Millie set about making more substantial meals. She found dried fruits in the cellar, and dehydrated vegetables, all neatly spelled to keep them from spoiling, and cooked up a genuine handmade mashed peach and potato cobblestone stew. It was amazing.
And the Zombie Master, after due experimentation in his laboratory, produced for Dor a tiny vial of life-restorative elixir, brewed from the healing water by the art of his talent. 'Do not mislay this, or use it incautiously,' he cautioned. 'The dosage suffices only for one.'
'Thank you,' Dor said, feeling inadequate. 'This is the whole reason I came to this-this land. I can't tell you how important this vial is to me.'
'Perhaps you could offer me a hint, however,' the Magician said. 'Since we are about to sustain a determined siege, from which we may not emerge-I admit a certain curiosity.'
Delicately put! 'I'm sorry about that,' Dor said. 'I know you prefer living alone, and if I'd known we'd cause all this trouble-'
'I did not say I objected to either the company or the trouble,' the Zombie Master said. 'I find I rather enjoy both. You three are comparatively simple people, not given to duplicity, and the mere presence of a challenge to survival evokes an appreciation for life that had been lacking.'
'Uh, yes,' Dor said, surprised. The Magician was becoming quite sociable! 'You deserve to know.' Dor was feeling generous now that he had this much of his mission accomplished, and the Zombie Master's candor was nice to receive. 'I am from eight hundred years in your future. There is a zombie in my time I wish to restore to full life as a favor to-to a friend.' Even in this moment of confidence, he could not quite confess his real interest in Millie. This vial would make her happy, and himself desolate, but the thing had to be done. 'You are the only one who knows the formula for such restoration. So, by means of enchantment, I came to you.'
'A most interesting origin; I am not certain I believe it. For whom are you doing this favor?'
'A-a lady.' The thought of letting Millie learn of her eight-hundred-year fate appalled him, and he resolved not to utter her name. He had not had much luck in keeping such resolutions before, but he was learning how. What horror would this knowledge wreak on so innocent a maid, who screamed and flung her hair about and kicked her feet so fetchingly at the slightest alarm? Far better that she not know!
'And who is the zombie?' the Magician prodded gently. 'I do not mean to pry into what does not concern me-but zombies do concern me, for surely every zombie existing in your day is a product of my magic. I have a certain consideration for their welfare.'
Dor wanted to balk, but found that, ethically, he could not deny the Zombie Master this knowledge. 'She-the lady calls him Jonathan. That's all I know.'
The man stiffened. 'Ah, the penalty of idle curiosity!' he breathed.
'You know this zombie?'
'I-may. It becomes a lesson in philanthropy. I never suspected I would be doing such a favor for this particular individual.'
'Is he one of your zombies here at the castle?' Already Dor felt a tinge of jealousy.
'Not presently. I have no doubt you will encounter him anon.'
'I don't want to-' No, he could not say that. What was to be, was to be. 'I don't know whether it would be wise to tell him-I mean, eight hundred years is a long time to wait for restoration. He might want to take the medicine now, and then he wouldn't be there for the lady-' Which was itself a fiendishly tempting notion he had to suppress. The elimination of Jonathan from his own time would not only rid him of competition for Millie's favor-it would eliminate his whole reason for coming here. How could he restore a zombie who had already been restored eight centuries ago? But if he didn't do it-paradox, which could be fatal magic.
'A very long time,' the Zombie Master agreed. 'Have no concern; I will not betray your secret to any party.' He dismissed the subject with a brusque nod. 'Now we must see to the castle defenses. My observer-bugs inform me that the Mundanes are massing for a major effort.'
The defenders girded to meet that effort. Jumper guarded the east wall and the roof, setting up a series of traplines and interferences for intruders. The Zombie Master took the south wall, which enclosed the courtyard. Dor took the west. All were augmented by contingents of zombies, and of course the ogre handled the north gate. Millie remained inside-to watch for hostile magic, conjurations and such, they told her. No one wanted to put her on the ramparts during the violence, where her cute reactions would serve as a magnet for Mundanes. She also had charge of the supply of healing elixir, so she could come to the aid of the wounded.
The zombie bugs must have made excellent use of their elixir-restored eyes, for the attack occurred right on schedule. A wave of Mundanes charged the side of the castle. Not the front gate, where Egor's reputation more than sufficed, but the weakest wall-which happened to be Dor's.
They threw down logs to form a makeshift bridge, stationed men with outsize shields on either side of it to block the moat-monster, and funneled about half their number across. They carried three scaling ladders, which they threw up against the wall. The castle had been constructed foolishly, with a ledge above the first two stories, ideal for ladders to hook to. The ledge terminated abruptly at the corner where the courtyard commenced, but led to a small door near the northern edge. Presumably this access was intended to facilitate cleaning of the gutter spouts-but it also ruined the integrity of the castle's defense. A blank wall, with no ledge and no door, would have been so much better!
Dor stationed himself before the door and waited, hoping he was ready. His stomach was restless; in fact at the moment he felt in urgent need of a toilet. But of course he couldn't leave. None of them could leave their posts until the attack was over; that had been agreed. There was no telling what tricks the Mundanes might try to draw the defenders out of position, making the castle vulnerable.
Men swarmed up the ladders. They were met at the top by zombie animals: a two-headed wolf with rotting jaws but excellently restored teeth; a serpent with gruesomely articulated coils; and a satyr with sharp horns and hooves.
The first men up were evidently braced for human zombies; these animals unnerved them, causing them to be easy prey. Then Dor ducked in with a long crowbar-he had no idea what the crows used them for-and levered off the first ladder, pushing it away from the wall so that it fell with its burden into the moat. The splashing Mundanes screamed. Dor felt a shock of remorse; he would never be acclimatized to killing! Actually, he reminded himself, the fall was not far as these things went, and the watery landing was soft. But the men were in a certain amount of armor that hampered their swimming.
