“Thanks. You really like it?”
“Sure.”
Linda twirled once. She had chosen not to go around attired as most women did in this world, in long gowns and coif. Instead she had picked an outfit more befitting a teenage boy. It was composed of a yellow long-sleeved undertunic, a brown overtunic with a hood-collar and pleated sleeves to the elbow, tan hose and brown soft-leather boots to mid-calf. The hem of the overtunic rode high on her thighs.
“It’s a little too short,” she said. “My rear end sticks out a little.”
“Well, that’s not necessarily bad.”
She laughed. “Maybe not.” She touched the scabbard of the dagger hanging on her narrow leather belt. “
Gene withdrew his sword (one-handed, double-edged, broad-bladed and cross-hilted) halfway from its sheath. “This isn’t exactly my metier either.”
“Your uniform looks nice.”
“Thanks.”
Gene had taken a Guard’s uniform, minus the chain mail, which he had found inhibitingly heavy. Over his red undertunic he wore a black leather jerkin with winglike leather shoulder flaps. The front of the jerkin was covered with silver studs. The rest of the outfit consisted of black padded breeches, red hose, and high black boots.
“Actually, it’s kind of kinky. I feel like a gay medieval Nazi.”
Snowclaw came back from relieving himself in a privy down the hall. “Hey, Gene, you look like a gay medieval Nazi.”
They laughed.
Gene did a take. “Hey, you said that in English.”
“I heard you. You can turn off the running translation if you listen closely. Funny language, Englitch.”
“English.”
“Whatever. I’m having a little trouble with
“Close.”
“Yeah. Are Nazis usually happy?”
“Happy? Oh. That’s not what I meant … Uh, forget it.”
“Anything you say.” Snowclaw scratched his stomach. “When’s lunch?”
“You hungry? I’m not. Kinda stuffed myself at breakfast. Which should have been supper for me.” Gene yawned. “I’m tired, myself.”
Linda said, “I could use a bite to eat. Do you want to go back to the dining room?”
“That won’t do me much good, actually,” Snowclaw said. “I didn’t care for that stuff much. I wish I could find someplace to hunt.”
“Rawenna — that’s my maid — said that if you want —”
“Oh, we have a maid, do we?” Gene twitted.
“All us noblewomen do, didn’t you know? What I was saying, Snowclaw, was that if you need special food, you just have to tell the cook and he’ll whip up a spell or two and give you what you want.”
“Yeah? Magic, huh?”
“Pretty much. All that food upstairs was created by hocus-pocus. Leastways, that’s what Jacoby told me.”
“The guy who looks like Sidney Greenstreet?” Gene asked.
“Is that who he looks like?”
“Only shorter.”
“Hm. Well, that’s what he said.”
“Look, why don’t you try whipping up something for you and Snowclaw?”
“Me whip up something. Huh?”
“Yeah. Materialization. Isn’t that what you have, what you can do?”
“Whoa, there. Valiums are one thing —”
“Why should Valiums be one thing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you try it, Linda? An experiment. I mean, this magic stuff is really fascinating.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Seriously.”
Linda threw up her hands. “Where?
“Anywhere. On this thing.”
Gene cleared helmets and other accouterments off a small table.
Linda looked at it.
“Well,” Gene said.
“ ‘Well’ what?”
“Do your thing.”
Linda was annoyed. “Really.”
“No, come on, Linda. You can do it.”
“This is so insane.”
“Seriously. Go ahead.”
“Oh, shit. All right.”
“Think of food.”
Linda closed her eyes. “I’m thinking of food. What kind of food am I thinking of?”
“I give up.”
“Well, what should I think of? Come on, Svengali.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Uh … uh … a Big Mac. And french fries … and a real thick strawberry shake.”
“Yuck. Okay, think of that.”
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” She opened her eyes. “Whaddya mean, ‘yuck’? Who’s the magician here?”
“Okay, okay, go ahead.” Gene turned, saw Snowclaw, and said suddenly, “Hey, wait a minute. You have to think of something for Snowclaw.”
“Oh, gee. How can I do that?”
“Forget about me, Linda. See if you can do it.”
“Isn’t there something …?”
“Well, I like
“Well, I’ll think of barbecued ribs. Maybe that will do it.” Linda closed her eyes. “Okay, here goes.”
She took a deep breath and stood motionless for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, threw out her arms and said, “Abracadabra. Nothing.”
“Oh, come on,” Gene chided. “You can do better than that.”
“Silliest thing I’ve
She tried again, same result.
“This is ridiculous. The pill must have been a fluke — or maybe I had it on me all the time and didn’t realize it.”
“That’s unlikely,” Gene said. “Do you remember how you did it?”
“Well, I was just —” Linda broke off and dismissed the whole thing with a disdainful sweep of the hand. “Look, I’m definitely not in a magical mood today. Let’s forget it.”
Gene sighed. “Okay. Sorry. Actually, I was thinking that a little magic might help us find a way back home.”
Linda bit her lip. “You know, you’re probably right.” She thought about it. “But I’m no magician. I really don’t think I am.”
“It’s okay. Well, we should head back to the dining room, I guess.”
“We ought to find a way out of here, is what we should do.”
