Castle War

Linda stood before a section of blank wall and raised her hands as if in supplication. An elevator door materialized in the stone, a little arrow-shaped green light above it pointing up. The door rolled open.

“Ah, castle magic,” Linda sighed. “Now, this stuff I can work with.”

They stepped aboard and the door slid shut.

“Laboratory floor,” Linda said to no one in particular.

“Interesting to contemplate,” Sir Gene commented. “Is the elevator conscious, do you think?”

“Who knows? It just does what I tell it to do. I could never do elevators that worked until Lord Incarnadine showed me how to make them less mechanical and more magical.”

“You’re a very talented castle magician. My apologies for the remark about the food.”

“My castle food gets all kinds of compliments.” Linda stared off a moment, then said, “What am I like in the other castle? I mean, what’s my counterpart like?”

Sir Gene mulled over his answer. “Difficult.”

“Is she good with magic?”

“Um, in a way. She doesn’t do elevators, that I’ll tell you.”

“No? What kinds of things … oh, never mind. The whole notion is creepy.”

“Yes, the less said about it, the better.”

The elevator door opened. Standing just outside was a huge creature which resembled Snowclaw except for having yellow fur. There were other differences: it was bigger, had even more teeth, and the broadax it wielded was, if possible, more fearsome than the original.

The beast growled, raised the ax, and lunged. Sir Gene had reacted even before the door was all the way open, leaping to jab the CLOSE DOOR button and drawing his sword. The sliding panels sprang back out of their slots and caught the anti-Snowclaw between them. Sir Gene hacked at the beast’s face. Snarling, the thing retreated a step, and the doors closed, shutting it out.

Linda started breathing again. She gasped, “What was that?”

“Another of Incarnadine’s tactics. Fight fire, if possible, with a bigger fire.”

“My God, it was horrible.”

“I can’t see that it was any more horrible than its progenitor.”

“Snowy’scute. That thing was … never mind. Getting to the lab is out.”

“I suppose there isn’t another way?”

“Not that I know of. Where do we go now?”

Sir Gene sheathed his sword. “There’s nothing left to do but go back to the world of the black cloud and wait.”

“There’s nothing for me to do there,” Linda said. “I’m going to try to make it to Sheila’s world. She might be back from her trip. If so, she can help out.”

“That’s as good an idea as any, I suppose,” Sir Gene said.

“Shouldn’t you be directing the battle?”

“I’ve no control over what’s happening. If I had a hundred duplicates of myself —”

“We’re not going to try that again, even in the castle.”

“I’m not suggesting we try it. I find the existence of even one doppelganger intolerable. Where is this Sheila and her world?”

“Isn’t there a Sheila in your castle?”

“No. Not that I’ve met, anyway. There are any number of Guests who are strangers to me.”

“Sheila’s aspect is on a level about midway between the Guest Residence and the laboratory, here in the castle keep.”

“Then let’s drop to that level and hope there are no skirmishes in the area.”

“There’s fighting going on all over the keep,” Linda said, “thanks to you, but there’s always hope. Hit the fifty-first-floor button.”

Sir Gene searched the floor selection panel, found the correct button, and depressed it. “This contraption is well equipped.”

“Your typical medieval elevator.”

The conveyance descended, humming and whirring appropriately. After a half minute it slowed and stopped. Sir Gene drew his sword and held it at the ready.

The doors opened to silence.

Sir Gene poked his head out and looked. “It’s clear.”

They exited into a dim hallway and proceeded right, keeping to the left-hand wall, which was punctuated by numerous alcoves suitable for ducking into. They passed a sitting room, complete with heavy oak furniture and tables. No one was about. They came to an aspect, a doorway leading to a forest scene.

“We could hide in there,” Sir Gene said.

Linda shook her head. “I want to see Sheila. It’s just down the hall and to the left.”

They passed along more dim hallway before encountering an unused dining hall, dark and gloomy.

“I’m reminded that I’m still hungry,” Sir Gene said.

“Want me to whip up something for you?”

“No, I can wait.”

“The food is good at Sheila’s hotel.”

“She discovered this world?”

“She and Trent, Lord Incarnadine’s brother.”

“Didn’t know he had a brother.”

Linda said, “I’m beginning to see that there are lots of differences between our castle and yours.”

“Does seem that way. Is it much farther, this aspect?”

“Just down this hall, about —”

Having just rounded the corner, Linda stopped in her tracks. Her jaw dropped. Walking toward her, flanked by two anti-Guardsmen, was what could have been her twin sister were it not for some differences. The quasi-twin’s teeth were crooked and stained, her complexion sallow. Her hair was a fright wig, dyed a bright red. There was something wrong with the eyes; they were ringed with dark circles and had a strangeness in them.

The anti-Linda smiled and said, “I thought I heard voices. Well, well, well. My counterpart, Lady Linda the dishwater blonde. How can you wear it that color, dear?”

Linda closed her mouth, took a deep breath. Then she said calmly, “I was born with it, that’s why.”

“And that outfit. Cute. Like a pixie, little tights and everything. Oh, nice boots. Get those at Bloomingdale’s?”

Linda looked at the horror of a white lace gown that draped her twin. “Early Bela Lugosi movie” would have been the appropriate period, and the kindest capsule description. She decided to refrain from commenting. She did say, “Why don’t you go back where you belong?”

The anti-Linda took a step forward, sudden anger boiling in her strange eyes. “Look, honey, I don’t take orders well, not even from Incarnadine, let alone from some castle tart playing Glinda the Good Witch. So, get your bitchy lips off me, all right?” Her expression and manner shifting abruptly, almost jarringly, she turned to Sir Gene with an inexplicable smile. “Put that sword away, Gene, sweetheart. I’ve no grudge against you.”

Sir Gene grunted and lowered his sword, but kept it out. “That would be a radical change.”

“Gene, Gene, how many times have we worked at cross-purposes? Weaving our separate strands, always warp-to-warp, never warp-to-woof.”

“Charming metaphor.”

“But I mean it. I could have aided you in your last bid for power, but you chose not to include me in your lovely little conspiracy.”

“You ought to be grateful. It failed miserably.”

“Because I didn’t help you. We never were the best of friends, Gene, but that shouldn’t have prevented us from becoming business partners.”

“I like to work alone.”

“It takes two to conspire, darling.” She batted her eyelashes sweetly. “But no matter, you had your chance. And now Incarnadine’s appointed me regent of this new castle. Oh, yes! It’ll be practically like ruling Perilous itself. Wait a minute. How silly of me. It will be exactly like ruling Perilous. This is Castle