“And Ferne.”
“Yes, Ferne, of course. But I think Ferne is dead. Incarnadine said as much himself, and he ought to know.”
“You mean, when he said that he’d dealt with her with cold justice, he was saying he did away with her?”
“He used the superlative. ‘Coldest.’ That could only mean one thing. So, barring anyone in the castle suddenly developing into a magician on the order of Incarnadine himself, Incarnadine is the only suspect.”
“I think it’s Jamin,” Sheila blurted.
Trent eyed her askance. “What makes you say that?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. It just came out.”
“Well, it must have been a powerful impulse. Do you have anything to back it up?”
“Can’t think of a thing. I saw him at the Servants’ Ball. Asked me to dance, in fact. He was as nice as could be. But …” She shrugged. “There was something in his eyes, something behind it all. I don’t know.”
“That’s not much to go on,” Trent said. “Which means that what you said is probably dead right, your intuitive powers being what they are.”
“You think? I’m almost sure he’s up to something.” Sheila ran the memory through her mind. “Well, of course. I
Trent was silent while she looked far out to sea.
Then she said, “I’m sure of it. He’s a lot more powerful than people give him credit for. I just didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Well, he does have his gifts. Everyone knows that.”
“More. He has more, and … he didn’t have it until very recently.”
Trent sat up. “That is a piece of information. Raw magical power is something you can’t create for yourself. You can develop it, but basically it’s a gift.”
“So who’s gifting him?”
“Surely not Incarnadine. I was wrong, Sheila.”
“Thank goodness. But who?”
“The Hosts, maybe,” Trent said. “But the problem is how. Incarnadine sealed off their aspect with a spell that no one could break.” Something occurred to him. “But if the Hosts somehow got hold of my sister …”
“Do you think it’s possible?”
Trent shook his head. “Not very. But stranger things have happened. I don’t understand all the motivations yet, but I think —”
“Trent, look.”
He turned toward the volcano. The western sky had turned a bright, eye-blinding yellow, and an expanding ring of vapor was racing across the sea toward them.
“Get down,” Trent said.
“What is it?”
“Down, and hold your hands over your ears. The volcano exploded. The shock wave will be very severe.” Trent wrapped a trailing line around his right wrist and threw himself on top of Sheila.
The sound of the titanic explosion hit, the force of the compression wave turning the sea into froth as it swept by. The raft lifted out of the water and slammed back down, stripped of its mast and sail. Somehow Trent managed to hang on to both Sheila and the raft.
They lay stunned. Trent finally dragged himself off Sheila and helped her sit up. Neither of them could talk for a full minute.
“Sheila,” Trent croaked.
“I’m all right, Trent.”
“The tsunami, the tidal wave … it will kill us, darling.”
“Yes, I know.”
As they spoke, the western horizon rose to form a dark wall of water that rushed toward them.
“Too bad I didn’t build a submarine,” Trent said.
“Darling Trent.”
They embraced. Sheila opened her eyes and watched the wave approach, judging that it would hit in about thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds of her life left. Well, Sheila, you finally find your man, and, skoosh, down comes the big cosmic shoe. It’s funny, really. But I’m still glad I had this time with Trent. It made everything worth it.
Suddenly, quite unbidden, the missing piece of the magical jigsaw of this world made an appearance, and the whole puzzle fell into place. In one instantaneous Gestalt, she sensed the lines of power, the nodes of influence, and it was all perfectly logical. She wondered how she could have been so dense. This was an insanely magical world; the magic was right beneath the surface. You didn’t have to dig, like in other worlds. The trouble was that she had dug too deep, tried too hard. This was an easy universe to work magic in; but that fact was not an easy thing to understand. That’s what had taken all the time.
Too little, too late. But she did have half a minute. In any other world, that would have been more than enough.
Here, though, she still did not know any of the limitations, the parameters of the forces, the feedback mechanisms. She would just have to be quick about it. She would have to learn all that in the next twenty seconds.
“Sheila? What is it?”
“Shh! I have a spell going.”
“You do? Sheila my darling, it’s a little late —”
“Shhh!” She cupped a hand over his mouth. “You gave me the idea.”
Trent’s eyebrows knitted themselves into one perplexed line. He craned his head around. The tidal wave was hundreds of feet high. He decided that Sheila had gone mad.
Sheila stood and raised her arms against the rising water. To Trent she looked like a sea nymph invoking the spirits of the deep, bare of breast and innocent-eyed.
Sheila was thinking: Oh, shit. This better be good.
Twenty-eight
Pennsylvania — U.S. Route 30, West
At least the kid had shut up. Not more than a few words had come out of him since Snowy’s momentary metamorphosis.
Snowy had been giving a great deal of thought to just jumping out and running off. But maybe that wasn’t the best thing to do. The night was dark, and Snowy didn’t have the slightest idea where he was. Besides, he was thirsty, and there didn’t seem to be a lot of water out there.
Now the kid was looking in the rearview mirror nervously.
“What is it?” Snowy asked.
“This van seems like it’s been behind us for a hunnert miles,” the kid said.
Snowy decided to stay put and wait. Sheila’s spell was still working, but Snowy knew it didn’t have long to go.
“Ah, it’s probably nothin’,” the kid said. “Who the hell’d be innersted in a truck load of cigarettes?”
Snowy was thinking about Sheila. He had been worried sick for weeks now, and it was getting to him. He liked Sheila. Sheila was special. Linda was nice, too; he couldn’t forget her. In fact, he had known Linda longer. But Sheila was the one in danger now. It galled Snowy to be so helpless, like a stray cub out on the ice. But there was nothing he could do until he got back to Perilous. If then.
“I gotta piss,” the kid announced, wheeling the truck into the parking lot of a dimly lit roadhouse.
“I could use a drink,” Snowy said.
