abbreviate his degree.
His new shrink. How bloody convenient. Well, what the hell.
The door was slightly ajar. Max eased it open.
'Come in, come in,' the strangely adolescent voice Max had heard over the phone sang out. There was no mistaking it.
Max stopped when he caught sight of the smaller lettering under the name on the frosted glass. He pushed the door open wider and looked at it. It read PORTALS UNLIMITED.
'Come in, Mr. Dumbrowsky.'
Max looked around. Seated at a table in a far corner of the office was a pint-size kid, looking no older than eighteen, dressed in faded jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt. His hair was a bit long and mussy, and his general scruffy appearance went well with a face that was aggressively nondescript, tending toward the feral. He was hunched over the terminal of a personal computer, hunting and pecking at the keyboard with long fingers, eyes fixed on the CRT screen.
'You're probably wondering what `Portals Unlimited' is all about,' the kid said.
'How did you know it was me?'
Hochstader stopped typing, looked over at Max, and grinned impishly. 'Just a stab in the dark. Thought it might be you banging around out there. Come on in. I'm ready to help you.'
Max sauntered in. Hochstader gestured to a chair, and Max, having nothing really better to do, sat down. 'You're Hochstader? Doctor Hochstader?'
'That's me. Actually, the degree is kind of honorary.' Hochstader stopped Max's next utterance with a raised hand. 'You're going to say I look young.'
Max shrugged, nodding. No denying it.
'I have one of those faces that don't age. I'm a lot older than I look.'
Max studied him. 'You can't be any older than twenty-five. What's your degree in?'
'Uh, computer science. Why?'
Max laughed. 'And you're a licensed psychotherapist?'
'No, I don't do psychotherapy. I don't have patients, I have clients. And I get results for them.'
'Clients, eh?' Max took a sip of Coke, looking around at the office. It was a mess; boxes and piles of computer printouts littered the floor. Otherwise the place was a shabby dump; but that accurately described the office building it was in.
'Okay, so you're not a therapist. What about these radical new techniques you mentioned? I have to warn you, I've seen and done just about everything.'
Hochstader resumed typing. 'I think I can surprise you, Max. You don't mind if I call you Max?'
'Go right ahead. What is it, biofeedback?'
'Nope.'
'A new kind of exercise?'
'No.'
'Some new diet?'
'Hardly.'
'Drugs.'
'Uh-uh. Max, you're never going to guess it. I'll have to show you.'
'So show me. But why can't you tell me?'
'Well, my technique involves travel between alternate worlds.'
Max choked on his soda.
'Parallel universes, alternate time tracks,' Hochstader went on, 'call 'em what you will. `Aspects' is what we in the trade call them.'
'Uh, yeah,' Max said warily, rubbing his throat.
'Oh, I realize you don't believe me, but if you wait just a second, I'll give you a free demonstration.'
Max studied him. This twerp had the look of a highschool dropout. P.Hd., indeed.
Characters danced across the CRT. Presently, Hochstader stabbed a final key and looked up at the result. 'Right,' he said. He slapped the desktop, stood up, and strode past Max. 'Follow me for a free demonstration.'
Like flies to dung, Max thought. I always seem to attract them. He shrugged helplessly and followed Hochstader into a dark adjoining office. The twerp walked straight on through to the far wall, where a curtain hung in an arch. Light came from beyond it.
Hochstader held the curtain open for Max. 'Go on in.' Max passed through and stopped in his tracks, disoriented.
He found himself in an immense Gothic chamber of dark gray stone, its high ceiling complexly vaulted. The place was filled with odd stuff, contraptions that looked like fugitives from a B sci-fi movie. Spark coils, wheels, banks of switches: the laboratory of a mad scientist.
'What in the world-? Hey, where is this place? Did we walk into the next building?'
'Welcome to Castle Perilous,' Jeremy said as he passed, grinning impishly.
CHAPTER FOUR
'Do you think we took the hem up too far?'
Red-haired, freckle-faced Melanie McDaniel stepped back from the oaken table. On it stood her friend, Linda Barclay, blonde bride-to-be.
'I like it the way it is.'
'I think it's too high.'
'It's a nice wedding gown, Linda.'
'Do you think eliminating the bow is going too far?'
'Well, you said you wanted a modern look.'
'Maybe something more traditional would be better for a wedding in a castle.' Linda reached down and turned up the hem. 'Maybe a train?'
'You said you didn't want to feel like you could trip at any moment.'
'I don't. But I don't want the dress to look too modern either. I mean, this is a castle.'
'They why not go with the medieval costume thing?'
'I don't want it to be a costume ball. It's supposed to be a wedding. My wedding. We run around in silly clothes enough around here.'
'But in Castle Perilous, silly clothes really aren't costumes. They're the clothes people actually wear. And they're not silly.' Melanie looked down at her own outfit, that of a minstrel.
'Sorry, point taken. But still- Anyway, I think it's too short.'
'Depends on what effect you want. Bionda, what do you think?'
Bionda, the castle seamstress, looked on as if only mildly interested. After all, Linda, a powerful, sorceress, had conjured the gown herself. Bionda was there only to offer professional advice, if it was needed and wanted.
Bionda stepped back and took a fresh look. Linda and Melanie waited expectantly for her opinion.
Bionda cleared her throat. 'I think it much too short, milady.'
Linda's face fell. 'See? I was right.'
'I think the train would be nice,' Bionda said. 'Gives a bride dignity. Adds pageantry to a ceremony.'
'Well, maybe I should go with the train.'
'But milady, your wedding day draws near! Perhaps you might take this as impertinence, but you really shouldn't have waited until now to settle these important matters.'
'Oh, it's no problem,' Linda said. She snapped a finger. Instantly, the dress changed. Gone were the clean modern lines, replaced with lace, brocade, and sequins. A long train cascaded from the bustle and flowed out over the table.
'Well, now you're going way in the other direction,' Melanie said.
