still lay huddled against the wall, but her eyes were open.
“My God,” Gene said.
He took her hand, and she sat up. Her skin was its normal light brown, and the burns had completely disappeared. She examined herself, running a hand over the smooth, unblemished skin of her arms and her long, perfectly shaped legs. She looked up at Gene and smiled.
“The gods have granted me new life,” she said.
“Yeah, they sure have.” Gene suddenly spun around. “Jesus, Linda.”
He ran to where her body had been thrown. A tangle of wire covered her, and Gene gently cleared the mess away.
Linda rolled over and sat up. She blinked and said, “What hit me?”
“Linda, are you okay?”
“Yep.” She got up with Gene’s help. “Incarnadine must have thrown something around us, just in case. Lucky thing, too.”
Jeremy was already up and about, disgustedly kicking through the debris.
“Well, this place is done for,” he said.
The lab was a shambles, a total loss. Most of the machinery lay in smoking heaps. The great coils had toppled, but one metal sphere still hung aloft, swaying disconsolately, its once-mirrored surface now blackened and dented.
Strangely enough, the materialization platform was intact.
Gene helped Vaya up. Linda eyed the strange woman, sizing her up as women are wont to do to one another on occasion.
“What I want to know,” Gene said, “is who the hell is responsible for all this. Who kidnapped me?”
“The same person who did it to Sheila, Trent, and Snowy, and tried for me and Jeremy,” Linda said.
“Who?”
“Jamin.”
Gene was astonished. “Jamin?”
“I don’t know how or why, but Jamin has something to do with it. His little plan for us didn’t work out. But the earthquakes hit, and we didn’t get a chance to confront him.”
“Let’s do that right now,” Gene said.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Incarnadine?”
Gene glanced toward the platform. “Maybe we should. But we don’t all have to go. You stay here and look after Vaya.”
“No, I’m coming with you. Jamin’s a powerful magician.”
“Okay, fine. Jeremy?”
“I’ll wait for him,” Jeremy said, rooting through the mess. “By the way, did anyone see my computer?”
A plaintive beeping came from the ruins. Jeremy kicked a battered instrument panel out of the way, stooped, and fished out the laptop. The computer was intact, though a little scuffed and dirty.
The readout screen showed, SOMEONE GET THE NUMBER OF THAT NUCLEAR WARHEAD.
“I will come with you, my husband,” Vaya said.
Linda raised her eyebrows. “Husband? Gene, are congratulations in order?”
“Uh, well …”
Linda nodded. “Well, congrats, if it fits.”
“Let’s talk about that later. I want to get to the bottom of this right now.”
A far-off rumbling sounded.
“Think we can make it?” Linda said. “You missed all the fun we’ve been having here.”
“We’ll make it,” Gene said, then stopped and looked down at himself. “Uh … Linda, can you —?”
“Oh, I think the loincloth is cute. But is it the custom for the groom to wear more than the bride?”
“Linda.”
“Sorry.” She waved her hand, then inspected Gene’s usual attire, a modified Guardsman’s uniform: leather cuirass, breechclout, hose, and high boots.
Gene brandished his sword. “Great. Okay, let’s go.”
“If the castle’s still in a turmoil,” Linda said, “then Jeremy has to come with us.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see. Let’s go, Jeremy.”
“Right.”
WAIT! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS PINNED UNDER THAT RUBBLE!
“We’ll put her back together later. Or him, or whatever it is. I’ll help, I promise.”
YOU MARVELOUS MAN.
“Feh,” Jeremy muttered.
The castle was indeed still in a turmoil, and the laptop’s stabilization program helped. Still, the going was rough. The castle’s stone blocks had turned the consistency of cheese, fracture lines like spiderwebs running through them. Floors bowed, and ceilings drooped.
When they reached the servants’ wing, however, they encountered an area that was obviously under magical control. It so happened that Jamin’s quarters lay nearby.
Gene pounded on the door. “Jamin! Open up!”
“Do you think he’s in there?” Linda asked.
“Where would he run to? Besides, his best spells are probably set up here.” Gene pounded again. “Let’s go, Jay baby. The jig is up.”
A muffled voice on the other side said, “Go away.”
Linda said, “Let us in, Jamin. We want to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say.”
Gene sheathed his sword. “Okay, Jamin. You asked for it.” He turned to Linda. “Scare up an ax for me.”
One appeared in his hand instantly. “Stand back,” Gene said.
It was hard work. The door was oak, three inches thick.
“You want a speed-up spell?” Linda asked.
Gene wiped sweat from his brow. “Now you tell me.”
“Sorry.”
Gene became a whirlwind, and the door flew to splinters in no time.
“Jeremy, you stay out here. Watch the door and look after Vaya.”
Jeremy eyed her up and down. She was a head taller. “Uh, yeah.”
Gene kicked in what was left of the door, and he and Linda charged in.
It was a spacious chamber, tastefully appointed. Numerous objets d’art from many worlds lay about, and tasteful paintings bedecked the walls.
Jamin stood in the middle of the room, his eyes fearful yet defiant. The young page — the one who had summoned Gene and all the others — sat at a table to one side, idly playing solitaire.
“How dare you intrude,” Jamin said, glaring.
“You have a lot to answer for, Jamin,” Gene said.
“And why should I answer to the likes of you?” His thin lips formed a sneer. “Common as clay. You wander into this great house and get treated like royalty. Vagabonds! Ruffians! Subhuman rubbish.”
“It’s been boiling inside you for years, hasn’t it, Jamin?”
Jamin gritted his teeth. “It rankles. Oh, it rankles.”
Gene drew his sword. “Well, at last the motivations are getting an airing out. This explains some of it.”
Linda asked, “What did you hope to gain, Jamin?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Jamin sniffed.
“Try me.”
“No, thank you,
Gene lunged forward.
Jamin backstepped quickly. “Vasagaroth, help!”
