Trent didn't answer immediately. Then he said, 'It will be long in coming, and when it comes it will be sudden, unexpected, and frightful.'
'All good revenge schemes should work that way,' Incarnadine said, pouring. 'Say when.'
CRYPT
'Are you sleeping?'
'Hm? Just have my eyes closed.'
'This floor should be hard and cold but it's not cold at all. It's not exactly soft, but it's not exactly uncomfortable either. What do you think?'
'Hm?'
'Do most men always sleep after?'
'Ah, the perennial question of male post-coital somnolence.'
'Huh?'
'We should get up. By the way, notice anything?'
'Yes. Everything's quiet. No crowds, no nothing.'
'Yeah. Did you notice when, in the middle of everything, it got awfully strange? I mean, intensely strange?'
'Yeah, I saw weird feet. Big pink bunny-rabbit feet.'
'Yeah, and chartreuse elephant feet, and like that.'
'Right.'
'And then, very suddenly, everything got wispy and faded out.'
'Right. I noticed. I was rather preoccupied at the time, of course.'
'Of course. Me, too. Let's get out from under the table.' They crawled out and dressed hurriedly.
The huge underground crypt was empty except for a few curious pink clouds scudding near the ceiling. They seemed to emanate from the crypt next door, and toward this destination they began to walk.
'Are we near the source, do you think?' Linda asked.
'I'd venture to say that we are,' Gene said. 'But the source seems to have dried up.'
'Thank God. Is it over?'
'The weirdness? Don't know. Hope so.'
They passed through a tall arch that followed a corbeled passageway which made several L's. After the last one, a short walk brought them out into another huge crypt, but this one was strange. It looked like the interior of an ancient ruin. Its marble walls were cracked and pitted; decorative friezes lay in shards along the floor. They passed dry fountains and stands of dead potted palms. Debris littered the floor.
The place was deserted except for three people up on a platform at the far end of the hall, toward which Gene and Linda moved.
Pink and purple clouds drifted amongst the tops of high columns. Here and there a Day-Glo butterfly flitted and fluttered.
'Hello?' Gene called as he began mounting the stairs to the platform.
'Hello,' came the reply.
Gene and Linda reached the top of the stairs and looked around curiously. The place was an ungodly mess. 'Hello, there. I'm Thorsby. This is Fetchen.'
Gene asked, 'Is he all right?'
'Uhhh,' Fetchen answered.
'He'll pull through,' Thorsby said. 'Thought I'd lost him, but he's doing fine.'
'Good,' Gene said. 'Let me ask you a question.'
'Fire away, sir.'
'What the hell has been going on here?'
'Ah! Yes, of course, you would want to know that. Well, that's going to take some explaining. If you'd just give me a minute to collect my thoughts. Been in a bit of a dust-up, don't you know. Almost didn't pull through myself. We've had no end of trouble, no end of trouble.'
'They had one hell of a good time,' said the large bald man who sat at the far end of the dais.
'Who's that?' Gene asked of Thorsby.
'Uh. Actually, I don't know. I say… sir? Do you have a name?'
'Just call me Omar.'
'Omar, I'd like you to meet'-Thorsby turned to Gene-'I do know your name, sir, but it escapes me at the moment.'
'Gene Ferraro. You're one of the apprentice magicians, no?'
'Right you are, sir.'
'So you two are the jokers who cast the wild spell?'
Omar laughed. 'Oh, did they screw it up.'
'Well, now, we certainly did achieve some spectacular effects.'
Omar hooted.
'Yeah, I'll say you did,' Gene admitted. 'Did you know you about had this castle in the worst uproar it's ever been in?'
'Did we know? Oh, no, sir, we did not. Did… uh, did some of the manifestations escape?'
It was Gene and Linda's turn to laugh.
'Our apologies for any disturbance we've caused,' Thorsby said. 'But I assure you that it was all quite inadvertent. The unfortunate result of a series of thaumaturgical accidents, which, as I'm sure you understand, are sometimes unavoidable when one engages in important scientific-'
'Ah-hah!'
Gene and Linda turned and saw no one, though the voice had come from behind. Linda gave a squeal when she bumped into a dark-bearded man in turban and slippers who was not quite three feet tall. He wore colorful silk robes and several emerald rings. Despite his size, he looked like trouble.
The dwarf turned his head to Omar. 'Are these the two?'
'That's them, boss.'
The dwarf swiveled his gimlet gaze to Thorsby and Fetchen. 'You incompetent, lazy, stupid, miserable goodfor-nothings have succeeded in queering my karma for the next six hundred cycles of existence.'
'See here,' Thorsby said. 'Who the devil are you?'
'You're talking to the Grand Wazir, boys,' Omar told them.
'Oh. Uhhhh…'
Fetchen picked that moment to sit up. He blinked his eyes and said, 'I'm feeling much better.' His eyes focused on the Wazir. 'Hello. What are you?'
The Wazir's dark bushy eyebrows lowered. 'What am I? I'm the canker on your gum. I'm the boil on your bottom. I'm the worst nightmare you ever sweated through. That's what I am, you contemptible, scrofulous, illegitimate get of a diseased, flea-bitten camel.'
Fetchen turned to his mate. 'Who's this little wanker, then?'
'Yes,' Thorsby said indignantly. 'Get along with you, tiny person, before you get hurt underfoot.'
The Wazir howled and charged.
He was on them like a swarm of gnats. There seemed to be dozens of him, all kicking shins, biting fingers, goosing bottoms, and elbowing crotches. Thorsby and Fetchen ran from the chamber screaming, pursued by a miniature whirlwind of nastiness.
When they had gone, Gene and Linda burst into helpless laughter.
As they were recovering, Omar stood and stamped his cigar out. He yawned.
'Well, I'm off. Nice meeting you people.'
'Same here, Omar,' Gene said. 'Where exactly are you going?'
'Back into the woodwork. I'll be on unemployment for the next millennium, probably.' He sighed. 'Ah, well. So
