Castle for Rent

a basis for working out our differences.”

“Perhaps, but time is running short. The invaders will very soon consolidate their hold on the castle.”

With a casual shrug the one on the left said, “From your description of them, we don’t think they will be much trouble.”

“Do not underestimate them.”

“We believe we haven’t, Your Royal Highness.”

“Very well,” Ferne said. “You are the best judge of your abilities. And I am quite sure they are considerable. Also, do not underestimate me. I am fully aware that there is a good deal that remains unspoken between us.”

The three individuals exchanged glances. “Such as?” the middle one asked.

“Many things. True intentions, motivations. Desires and goals. Also circumstances. For instance, I am aware that what I am seeing now is not your true appearance. I have also gotten the impression in my dealings with you that your world or your society is not composed of individuals, but is in reality a single mass entity of some sort. I am not sure of this, but it remains a possibility in my mind. I remember asking you about this very point long ago. Whenever I pressed for an answer, I got only evasions.”

“There is of course a perfectly logical explanation for many of your doubts and reservations,” the one on the right said. “Our universes differ widely in many respects. In fact, the differences are profound enough to greatly hamper mutual understanding.”

“Doubtless so. I’m sure a mere mortal could never understand beings such as you.”

“Forgive our saying this, but your terminology is somewhat inappropriate.”

“Is it? Only you would know. But let us return to concretes. In return for the privileges I have accorded you, you will aid my brother Deems and me in our fight to take back our family stronghold from the invaders who have usurped it. If we are successful, I am willing to provide you with exclusive access to a few hundred universes of your choice. You will be free to do what you want with them. That is the sum and substance of my proposal. Do you accept or not?”

“In principle, yes,” the middle individual said. “However —”

“That is all I am willing to offer. I am afraid I am not disposed to negotiate any further.”

The three were silent for a moment. Then die individual in the middle said, “We will have to confer and give you our answer at a later date.”

“I want it in an hour.”

“We need time to —”

“I want your answer in an hour,” she said tightly.

There was a pause. Then: “As you wish.”

“I will call you.”

She flipped the toggle, and the images faded. With some effort, she rose from the chair.

The far door opened and Deems came in.

“Did you communicate with them?” he asked, walking over.

“Yes,” she said.

“Are you ill? You look peaked. Let me get you some refreshment.”

“Thank you. Negotiating with them is draining. Don’t you remember how it was?”

Deems went to a small cabinet and took out a bottle of sherry and two glasses. He filled both glasses and gave one to Ferne, who had seated herself on a recliner. “We all toyed with the Hosts of Hell at one time or another. Fascinating lot. Hideously dangerous, of course, which made them all the more alluring to the young and disgruntled. Yes, I well remember their incessant attempts to seduce one of us into letting them out of their hellhole.” Deems sighed disconsolately. “And I suppose they’ve finally succeeded.”

“Had they accomplished it when we were children, they would have overrun the castle.”

“And would have taken control of Creation.”

“Perhaps, although I think it’s possible to overestimate them. They are powerful, but surely not godlike.”

“Be that as it may, I hope you and Inky can control them, as you claim you can. There’ll be hell to pay — quite literally, I should imagine! — if you’re mistaken.”

“You worry too much, Deems. You always did.”

“What if Inky doesn’t give in? Do you really need him?”

“No, not really. I think I have a few things over on Inky these days. Though his cooperation would make things a little easier, I admit.”

Deems looked at her askance. “Why do I have trouble believing you?”

She laughed. “Don’t be silly. I’ve told you everything. You have no reason to doubt me. Besides, what do you care about all this? You’ll get your gold, one way or another.”

Chewing his lip and looking dissatisfied, Deems sat down on an ancient thronelike chair and threw one chain-mailed leg up over the armrest. “Don’t think I don’t care about Perilous.”

She laughed scornfully. “Deems, you’ve never cared for anything but drinking, wenching, and the occasional brawl.”

“I don’t deny that, but it doesn’t mean I’d suffer lightly the destruction of my family’s ancestral home.”

“There won’t be any destruction, Deems. Not unless Inky chooses to detransmogrify the castle.”

Deems sat up. “Gods. Do you think he would?”

“Undoing the spell that maintains the castle and then immediately recasting the spell would be the optimum solution for him. In the process, everything and everyone in the place would … well,vanish for want of a better word. No one really knows what happens. In any event, it would be a new shuffle of the deck. Recast the spell, transform the demon back into a castle, and everything reverts to what it was before any of this started.” She took a sip of wine. “Of course, there is one problem. All of that is vastly more easy to say than to do. He was lucky once, a year or so ago. I don’t think he’d risk it again. He’ll see the wisdom of compromise. Eventually.”

“You must open the gateway for him.”

“No! Let him stew a while longer yet. We have to convince him we mean business.”

“What if he breaks through on his own?”

“If he does, we take him into custody. It’s that simple.”

“Nothing is simple with old Inky, Ferne. You ought to know that.”

“Oh, I know. I know.”

Deems sat back and stared moodily into his glass. “If you would have suggested to me that we would have to deal with the Hosts, I would never have gone along with this. I would have taken Inky’s side — gold or no gold — and would have fought you tooth and nail.”

“I realize that,” she said. “But that’s not what happened. Is it?”

Deems fell silent for a long spell. Then he took a deep breath. “Damn me.” He drained his glass in one gulp. “I’ve been a bloody fool.”

“It’s a little too late to back out, Deems dear.”

“I’ve got to talk to Inky.”

“No! You can’t reach him.”

“The Projector.”

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Advise me no advice, woman.” He rose, crossed to the table that held the Projector, and began fiddling with the device’s control panel.

“Deems, Deems,” she said in mock lament. “The Projector merely channels a spell and gives it form. The operator has to provide the mental energy.”

“I know there’s a simple spell that sets up the device. Then it’s merely a matter of calibrating —”

“Yes, you can find a book of standard utility spells — in the library. Your problem is fighting your way through hordes of invaders to get there.”

Deems stopped fiddling and thrust his fists against his hips, glaring at his sister. “Damned meddling bitch!”

“How dare you speak that way to me.”

“I’ll speak any way I bloody well —” He broke off. Brow lowered, Deems eyed her as if seeing both her and