“Live dangerously, I say. What else have I got to occupy my time? Besides, it’s a verbal contract, and, as everyone knows —”
“Gene,” Linda said, “there’s no excuse for boredom. You live in Castle Perilous, which just happens to be the most interesting place in the entire universe — in the whole darn omniverse, or whatever you call the big thing that contains all the littler universes.”
“Multiverse.” Gene gave a tiny shrug. “Well, as the Bauhaus boys said, less is more … more or less.”
Snowclaw blinked. “Eh?”
“I never liked their movies,” Linda said.
“You should take up golf, Gene,” a new voice broke in.
The bridge players turned to regard lean, wiry Cleve Dalton, who was sitting back after making a move that had been prefaced by a good fifteen minutes of thought. Dalton had the face of a Yankee storekeeper and the manner of a high-end-billable-hour lawyer, though in his pre-Perilous life he’d been a literary agent.
Gene said, “But you guys gave it up.”
Dalton pointed to his opponent. “He did, not me.”
Deena asked, “You really swear off for good, Lord Peter?”
Lord Peter Thaxton looked up from the chess board. Dressed in a maroon smoking jacket with ascot, he was light-haired and distinguished-looking. Although he likely hadn’t seen forty yet, his face was the sort that might have looked middle-aged at twenty-five.
“I’ll never swing a mashie niblick again.”
“Or a brassie, or a cleek,” Dalton added.
“None of those items.”
“Lord Peter, you always hated playing,” Gene said, “yet you always let Mr. Dalton goad you into it.”
“No more,” Lord Peter said. “I shall not be playing golf again. Ever.”
“He means it,” Dalton said gravely, nodding. “Ever since he solved the Peele Castle murders, he’s been impossible.”
“Mr. Dalton,” Linda said, “you can surely find another golf partner.”
“Oh, I play a few holes with Rashid occasionally. But it’s just not the same. Half the fun was listening to his lordship swear.”
“I’m glad to have provided you with so many hours of amusement,” Lord Peter said dryly.
“You did, old boy. You did.”
“Though hereafter you’ll have to look elsewhere for fun and games, I’m afraid.”
“But I can still hear you cuss when I beat you at chess.”
“This one’s not over. Don’t take a henhouse census just yet, old man.”
“Merely a matter of time, milord.”
Lord Peter merely grunted as he studied the board.
“Well,” Gene said, “something will come along. Something always does. And then I regret that things aren’t boring any more. Meanwhile, I try to avoid boring myself and others.”
“You’re about as boring as a ten-car pileup,” Deena said. “Is that it, Mr. Bridge Wiz, or are we gonna have to go around with this nonsense again?”
“Yes, ma’am. Who leads?”
“I’m dummy,” Linda said.
“Then I lead,” Snowclaw said. He laid down the six of hearts.
“By the way,” Gene said, “where’s Incarnadine been lately?”
“Who knows?” Linda said. “As usual, he’s had business off in one of his many universes.”
“A finger in every cosmological pie.”
“For a king, he does get around.”
Melanie finished her Scots ballad, smiled at the applause, then launched into a Breton folk song.
The hand went badly for Gene and Linda. With Linda’s hand as dummy, Gene played a club to her queen and ran the jack of diamonds. He played cagily enough after that, testing clubs, running them, then testing hearts by playing his eight to the dummy’s queen.
He took every trick but the last. The defenders were one card too strong in hearts, Deena spoiling with her jack. The contract was blown.
“Rats,” Gene said mildly, throwing in his hand.
“You should’ve been content with the little slam,” Snowclaw said.
“Content,” Gene mused.
“You seem kinda troubled, chum.”
“Weltschmerz.”
“What’s that?”
Linda said, “Sounds German. Gene, you’re always using foreign words to show off.”
“Yeah, that’s me, your basic intellectual snob. You ought to hear me swear in Sanskrit.”
“Is that a town?” Snowclaw asked.
“You’re thinking of Scranton,” Gene said. “And I’ve uttered mighty oaths there, too.” Gene slowly got to his feet. “Well, I think I’ll take a walk.”
“Want some company?” Snowclaw asked.
“No, thanks, big guy. I think I want to solo this time. Got to do some thinking.”
“Suit yourself.”
“See you later, people,” Gene said in general farewell, waving as he strolled away.
Snowclaw watched him leave, then shook his massive head. “I dunno. I’m kind of worried about him. He’s been acting funny lately.”
“Cabin fever,” Linda said. “You hang around the castle too much, you get it.”
Melanie walked over. A steel string was dangling from her guitar.
“Busted my high-E,” she said. “I’ll have to go back home to find another.”
“No need for that,” Linda said. She sat back, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes. Something materialized on the card table — a small packet.
Melanie reached for it eagerly. “Bless my soul, a new guitar string!” In fact, she was not in the least surprised, having witnessed Linda’s materialization talents many times. “Thanks, Linda.”
“No problem,” Linda said, then yawned. Recovered, she asked, “Where are your kids?”
As if on cue, two bonneted nursemaids, each bearing a swaddled infant, entered the hall.
“Here they are!” Melanie said, running to meet them. She took one of the babies and carried it back to the table.
“Can you tell them apart yet?” Linda asked.
“Always could,” Melanie said, holding the infant up. “This one’s Rafe. Want to hold him?”
“Me? Sure!”
“Hey, I want one of those,” Deena said.
“Your own, or one of these?”
“Both, but for now, I’ll take this one’s brother.”
“You get Gareth. Here, Linda. Be sure to support his head. Like this, see?”
Linda gingerly accepted the precious burden. “Oh, he’s a heavy little rascal, isn’t he?”
Melanie took the other baby and went to Deena. “They’re both gaining weight fast.”
Deena expertly enfolded Gareth in her arms.
Linda tickled Rafe’s tiny dimpled chin. “Hey, there, kiddo.” Not yet cognizant of humorous gestures, Rafe was dismayed.
“Thank you!” Melanie called after the nursemaids as they left the room. To Linda she said, “They eat like lumberjacks. My boobs are always sore.”
“You’re lucky to have enough milk to breast-feed,” Deena said.
“Breast-feeding is best for babies if it’s possible. But it’s hard to nurse twins. By the way, where was Gene off to?”
“Nowhere in particular,” Linda told her.
“He’s been looking kind of depressed lately.”
