in two and himself thrown through a window.
More of the Legate's henchmen came rushing out of the alley like hornets out of a disturbed nest, in numbers more than even Snowclaw could effectively deal with.
By that time Gene had skewered one opponent and punctured another's sword shoulder. Those two incapacitated, Gene took on two more, ran one through immediately and nicked the other's forearm. He fought furiously, his blade whipping back and forth from one opponent to the next. Steel clashed and rang.
But it was no use. Eventually Gene was surrounded and the fight was over.
Gene lowered his sword. 'Snowy!'
Snowclaw was busy with an experiment: Could a man's leg be stuffed into his own ear? Not easily, as it turned out. Seven other goons were desperately trying to restrain him.
'What?'
'Give it up, Snowy. They got us.'
'Aw, heck.' Snowclaw dropped his slightly rearranged victim.
One of the captors, presumably the leader, swaggered up to Gene and took the rapier.
'Eugene de Perilleux, I presume?'
'C'est moi all over.'
'His Eminence, the Legate, craves the honor of your company,' the man said with an ironic sneer. 'But on the morrow. For tonight, deluxe accommodations await you at the Tower of Tears.'
Gene muttered, 'Yeah, I hear the Triple-A gave it five stars.'
'Take them away.'
Gene heard gasps and turned in Snowclaw's direction.
No longer did Snowclaw look human. In fact, he looked not unlike an upright-walking polar bear dressed in seventeenth-century costume. But of course he looked more fierce than any bumbling bear; no bear ever had such elaborate dentition or yellow eyes that glowed in the dark.
He growled. The goons backpedaled away.
'Pay no attention to my friend, here,' Gene said. 'His therapist says he's getting better.'
'Sorcerers!' one of them said, quailing.
Snowclaw tore off his clothing and threw the rags aside. 'Boy, that feels better.' He was a mountain of white fur.
'A devil!'
'Not really,' Snowclaw said. He held up one pawlike hand. Gingerly, he touched the middle of the palm with one finger. In an instant bone-white claws, two inches long and wickedly sharp, sprang from the ends of his fingerlike digits. 'But I like kicking a few butts now and then.'
They all ran.
Gene picked up his sword and sheathed it. 'You had to go and spoil the fun.'
'Sorry,' Snowclaw said.
Linda let out a windy breath. 'Oh, was I scared.'
'We would have figured out something,' Gene said. 'Come on, let's get to the portal. How's your toe?'
'It's all right. Just stubbed. Gene, what's the Tower of Tears?'
'Oh, a prison, with a very good apprentice-torturer program.'
'Get out.'
'No, it's a sort of teaching hospital in reverse. Clients get personalized service.'
'I'm not going to think about it.'
'I really am sorry,' Snowclaw said, tagging after them.
The portal was in the crypt of a collapsed cathedral that had never been rebuilt. The stairs descended into darkness. Gene went to a nearby niche, slid out a stone, and took a candle and matches out of the cavity. He lit the candle, handed it to Linda, then slid the stone back into place. The threesome went down the winding stairwell single file.
'I'd stash a flashlight, but I worry about it being discovered,' Gene said. 'Besides, batteries corrode. Never rely on a higher technology when a lower one will suffice.'
They walked along a corridor with doorways opening off to burial crypts at either hand. Gene led the way into the third chamber on the right.
The far wall was pierced with a pointed archway, through which light spilled. They passed through it and entered Castle Perilous, stepping from one world to another as if it were nothing. And it wasn't much at all, as far as they were concerned.
Linda did an orchestra conductor's flourish. Her seventeenth-century outfit vanished, replaced with her usual castle duds. Gone also was the blond beard.
'Sheesh! Am I glad to get out of those. I wouldn't make a very good guy.'
'I wouldn't touch that line with a fork. Do you think Dolbert and Luster are up in the graving dock now?'
'They sleep up there. We should go up and see what gives.'
'It's only three floors. Let's take the escalator.'
The escalators were a new feature, tricked up by Linda, Sheila, and a few other adept castle magicians. They seemed to be fairly permanent so far, subject only to minor fluctuations and uncertainties. The devices hummed and clanked satisfactorily, and they actually worked.
'Even if Dolbert manages to get the Voyager running again,' Gene said as they ascended, 'we still have the problem of locating Melanie.'
'We need the locater spell. Osmirik has it in one of his dusty books.'
'It works on Earth. No telling how effective it is elsewhere. Besides, she could be in any one of a million universes. It could take years to find her.'
'Then we have to come up with a spell that will locate her quicker. That's all.'
Gene had no answer.
They found their way through the immense castle with the ease possible only to veteran castle Guests. Still, it was a long walk to the lab.
On the way they heard something ringing ahead. They turned a corner to find a pay telephone on the wall.
'Have you ever seen a phone in the castle before?' Linda asked, amazed.
'Can't say that I have,' Gene said. 'Going to answer it?'
Linda picked up the receiver. 'Hello?… Yes, it is…' She listened for a moment, then said, 'Just a minute, please.' She put her hand over the mouthpiece. 'Do you know anything about a Land Surveyor?'
'Land Surveyor? Nope.'
'Guy says he's the Land Surveyor and that he was sent to the castle.'
Gene shrugged.
'Uh, sir? I'm sorry, but there's no one here who can help you at the moment… Yes… Uh-huh. You're welcome.' She hung up. 'I wonder what that was all about?'
'Who knows,' Gene said.
When they arrived at the lab, Jeremy was at his work station as usual, typing away at the mainframe terminal.
Gene asked, 'Are Dolbert and Luster back in the graving dock?'
'They never come out,' Jeremy said. 'I never see 'em.'
Gene, Linda, and Snowclaw walked to the back of the lab and went through a large oaken door.
The chamber on the other side was immense, but not as big as the lab. The ceiling was the same arabesque of stone arches.
In the middle of the floor sat a strange bell-shaped object, a craft of some sort, up on jacks. There was an oval window in the hull; otherwise the silver-colored machine was smooth and featureless.
Two pairs of legs stuck out from underneath the craft, one pair a lot longer than the other.
Gene stooped. 'Hey, Luster?'
'Yo!'
'Uh, you got a minute?'
'Wull, ah reckon ah do.'
