The statue ceased moving. The doleful chorus stopped with a ripping sound suspiciously like that of a phonograph needle skating across a record.
There was silence.
Presently a little man came out from behind the obsidian stone base of the statue. Bald, hook-nosed, and wearing black horn-rim glasses, he was dressed in an electric-blue leisure suit over a red paisley sport shirt with the shirt collar out over the collar of the jacket. His cordovan loafers shone with a mirror gloss. The top three buttons of the shirt were open, exposing a bumpy chest covered with gray hair. A gold medallion on a gold chain nested there.
Hands in his pockets, he sauntered over to the two visitors. On his face was a half-smile of mild annoyance. He came up to Incarnadine.
He shrugged. “So, talk to me, Mister Smart Guy.”
Twenty-seven
Queen’s Dining Hall
“I got here first,” Incarnadine said adamantly.
“The Hell you did,” Incarnadine said just as adamantly.
The two men, identical in every respect save that one wore a crown and the other was bareheaded, stood facing each other. The crown wearer had made his point with a leg of honey-basted sage hen, which he then took a bite of.
A fight was going on in the other end of the room. The participants consisted of the following: one anti- Guardsman, hereafter referred to as a — Guardsman; one Guardsman, hereafter designated as a +Guardsman; one +Snowclaw; one — Snowclaw; another +Guardsman; and, for the sake of plot complication, one anti-anti- Guardsman, a category hereafter referred to as –2Guardsman.
“I’m telling you, I sent my men in here first. Everything was going swimmingly. Then you blundered in and buggered up the whole works.”
“
“The mirror aspect showed up in my castle.”
“In mine, too!”
“All right, in yours, too, but as soon as I found it I shot right through and hit with everything I had.”
“As did I. I’m not one to pass up a target of opportunity.”
The bareheaded one picked up a sparerib, took a bite, spat it out, and tossed the thing over his shoulder. “Cold. Lousy service in this dump.”
“There’s a war going on, you know.”
“No excuse. Look, we’re going to have to work something out.”
“Doubtless,” the crown wearer said. “But how?”
“It’s a big castle.”
“No, no, no. I’m not going to subdivide.”
“Then we have to establish who has priority.”
“Who’s going to establish it? Are you suggesting we settle this in a court of law? Arbitration, maybe?”
“No, look. Two intelligent fellows ought to be able to work this out.”
“Well, I’m not gainsaying it. But there has to be common ground from which to start.”
“How much more in common could we have?”
“A point. A point.”
“All right, then. Withdraw your boys and we’ll talk.”
“We are talking. It would be pretty silly of us to draw swords and start hacking away at each another, now, wouldn’t it?”
“Of course.”
The crown-wearer threw down the sage hen. “You’re right, the food here stinks.”
“Probably been sitting there for a couple of days. Okay, if you won’t withdraw, then let’s call a truce. This noise is distracting.”
“Let’s retire to my study.”
“Where, here? It’s not yours.”
“My castle, then.”
“You want me to walk into your lair?”
“All right, where?”
“Forget it, we’ll stay here.”
The crowned one rummaged through a salad bowl and came up with a radish, which he popped into his mouth. “Talk about generally futzing things up,
“Who says I did?”
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
“Wasn’t me, either.”
“Wait a minute. If it wasn’t
Both Incarnadines frowned and looked off.
“Holy hell. Another one.”
“Nothing to prevent still another mirror aspect forming. Or more.”
“I guess not. Which leads to some disquieting possibilities.”
“And here comes one.”
Another Incarnadine, this one in a fur coat and cossack hat, entered the dining hall surrounded by a phalanx of –3Guardsmen. He waved, shouldered past his men, and walked over.
“Greetings. Fancy meeting you guys here.”
“Yes, we were just discussing that very fancy,” the crown-wearer said.
“I suppose,” the bareheaded Incarnadine said, “you’re about to stake a claim to this shack?”
“No, I just came in to see what the hell’s going on. What’s all the ruckus?”
“The lord of this castle’s not around. Disappeared.”
“No, he didn’t,” the crowned one said reproachfully. “Tell him the truth.”
“Oh, hell. When I found this mirror aspect I got a wild hair up my ass and stormed through. So did he, more or less at the same time.”
“Whatever for?”
“Like I said, a wayward follicle. Just an impulse.”
A chair came flying across the room, and the three ducked.
“Nothing like a good fight to work up an appetite.”
“I hear this castle’s owner doesn’t go for blood sports.”
“Yeah, I heard that, too.”
“So you just blitzkrieged your way through for the hell of it.”
“More or less.”
“One hundred forty-four thousand worlds wasn’t enough for you.”
“You get bored, you know.”
“Yeah, we live too damned long.”
“Well, that’s easily taken care of.”
“You want to go Waltzing Matilda with me? We’ll see who —”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Enough of that.”
“Well, he threatened me.”
“Stuff it.”
“You stuff it.”
