'What's the matter?' Dalton called back over his shoulder. 'Getting winded, old boy?'
Below, Thaxton was slow to mount the next few steps. 'Nothing of the kind. Just feathering back a bit to conserve strength.'
'Only five more stories to the top.'
'Right.'
Thaxton took two steps at a time to catch up, winding his way up the spiral stairwell. But when he reached the spot where Dalton stood waiting, he wilted.
He sat and heaved a weary sigh. 'Gadzooks.'
'You should get more exercise, old fellow. Play a little golf now and then.'
Thaxton sent a withering look upward.
'Or whatever's your pleasure,' Dalton amended.
Thaxton said sarcastically, 'Golf is not my pleasure, as I'm sure you know.'
'Sorry. Ever been up to the roof, by the way? Or the high battlements, I should say.'
'No,' Thaxton said. 'Have you?'
'Once. Magnificent view. Plains, snow-capped mountains. Beautiful.'
'I'm sure.'
'Truly. But strange, disorienting in a way.'
'How so?'
'Well,' Dalton said, 'we know there are about eighty stories to the keep. But from outside, it doesn't look it. I mean, the castle is huge, massive. But the keep looks to be only about thirty to forty stories at its highest point. Which makes it towering compared to earthly castles, but not exactly the World Trade Center either.'
'Really. Can't say I'm surprised, though.'
'No, the castle does tricks with interior space.'
'Indeed.'
'Ready?'
'A bit longer,' Thaxton begged.
'No problem.'
'How old are you, Dalton, old boy?'
'I'll be sixty-six come October eleven.'
'Really. I must say you're in jolly good shape for an old blighter.'
'Why, thank you. Strikes me that I never asked you the same question.'
'Fifty-one, old boy. Fifty-one bloody years, and I feel every one of them in every bone in my body.' Thaxton looked up. 'Please don't bring up exercise again.'
'Never!'
Thaxton looked glum. 'Some people don't age well.'
'Guess not.'
Hauling himself upward with great effort, Thaxton said, 'Remind me again what we're doing this for.'
'To see if the source of the invasion is outside the castle.'
'Don't they have lookouts?'
'The lookouts were pulled from their posts when the ruckus started. Tyrene needed every reinforcement. Tyrene delegated me to go up and see if anything's out there.'
'Oh. I see.'
'Don't expect to see much. Looks like an interior problem. Damned castle magic gone awry, like so many times before.'
'Oh, yes,' Thaxton said. 'So many times.'
They resumed climbing the helix of the stone stairwell. Every third turn brought round an embrasured window, but the narrow aperture offered a limited view. The windows let in some daylight, however.
They had encountered anomalies on the lower levels: comedians spouting routines to anyone who'd listen, Oriental jugglers, and so forth; but the apparitions had petered out at about the sixtieth floor.
At last they came to the highest landing and a stout oak door set into the curving wall. Dalton opened it and went through, Thaxton following. They came out into brisk open air and a maze of high, windswept parapets.
'Good Lord.'
There was a lot to see. First, the castle itself. They found themselves on a walkway running along the keep's battlements. The castle keep was eye-defying in its complexity, bristling with hundreds of towers. Below lay a maze of walls enclosing more walls, marking off wards and barbicans and a thousand different cloisters and courtyards. Parapets capped the walls and ramparts. Enclosing the keep itself was a concentric network of curtain-walls and bastions, each higher and more formidable than the last, until the outside wall was almost as high as the keep itself. Castle Perilous was an impregnable fortress, vast and enigmatic.
All that was left bare of the citadel on which the castle stood was a narrow ledge of rock surrounding everything. A thousand feet below that ledge lay the barren Plains of Baranthe, a snow-capped mountain range rising on its western extremity.
Gathered in all at once, it was a breathtaking view. But there was more to see.
Gossamer displays of light emanated from the keep and the entire castle. Some contained vague images: faces, human figures, various forms of animals and objects. Like auroras, these phenomena flickered and fluttered. Diaphanous birdlike images arose and flapped their way skyward before disappearing. Nothing was sharply defined; all possessed a ghostly quality.
Hovering above all this was a vague shape, gradually taking form, seeming to preside over everything. It might have been a face.
'What the devil's all this?' Thaxton wanted to know.
'Anybody's guess,' Dalton said, looking up. 'What do you make of that up there?'
Thaxton looked at it. 'Looks like a bloke in a turban.'
'Strange. Seems to be smiling at us. Unnerving.' 'Yes. Uh, perhaps we should…'
'Definitely has something to do with what's going on in the castle,' Dalton ventured.
'But what, I don't know.'
'Neither do I. Well, shall we be off, then?'
'Let's see what this is all about,' Dalton said, venturing farther along the walkway.
'Uh… well, if you insist.'
They walked cautiously, keeping to the middle of the walkway, Thaxton casting periodic nervous glances downward. The way was not nearly wide enough, as far as he was concerned.
'What the devil could it be?' Dalton said, eyes still on the gathering image above.
'Looks like a genie out of a bloody lamp.'
'It does at that,' Dalton said, stopping. 'But more sinister.'
'Quite. Well, the genie's loose. Let's report to Tyrene.'
'It seems to be still in the process of forming. We should observe it a little.'
'Yes, I suppose we should. Just a bit longer.'
'Nervous?'
Thaxton feigned surprise.
'Who, me, old man? Of course not. It does pay to be cautious, though.'
'You're right. I don't like the looks of this. Don't like it at all.'
'Yes, it does give one pause. Wish it wouldn't gawk at us like that, with that bloody insipid grin.'
'Looks like it's smirking, sort of,' Dalton said.
The face was a trifle more distinct now. It kept moving slightly from side to side, and continued to go in and out of focus. It looked like an image projected on a cloud of smoke. It was definitely grinning. The grin was impish, sly, and-this was quite discernible-a bit evil.
'Perhaps we should try to communicate with it,' Dalton said.
'Eh? Whatever for?' 'Find out what it wants.'
'Well, we know that. It wants the bloody castle. Doesn't everybody?'
Dalton cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, 'You up there? Can you hear? Can you understand?'
A sudden wind rose on the parapet. Thaxton shivered.
