Adventures Of Myhr Part 24

"Don't know, ma'am. Just following his lordship's orders. Seemed very keen about it, he was."

"Has Lord Cadmus done anything wrong?"

Yes, have I done anything wrong?

"Wouldn't know, ma'am. We was just called to his lordship's Black Room and told what to do."

The Black Room . . . something really awful had happened there. . . .

"Lord Cadmus?"

She was addressing him now. Who was-oh, yes, Velma, that dancer friend of the divine Filima.

Stunning girl, just not his type. Needed to have more money. Still, she was very easy on the eye. Mightas well be gallant to her, maybe she'd turn out to be an eccentric heiress run away from her wealthy family to be in the circus. Cadmus managed to straighten, then swayed into a droopy bow. Not his finest effort, he critically chided himself, particularly when he couldn't haul back up again. It put her very finely shaped b.r.e.a.s.t.s within his immediate field of view, though, so he had nothing else to complain about.

"Cadmus? Are you drunk?"

He discovered he could speak. Good show. "F-f-far from it, my lady. Deuced tired, though. P'rhaps if you could direct me to a guest room. I'd be uncommonly grateful for a nice lie-down."

She bent to peer at him, then felt his forehead. "My gawds, you're cold as ice!"

Now that she'd mentioned it, he was a trifle chilled. Her hand was lovely and warm, though. He sighed and leaned into her touch, but overbalanced and the two chaps next to him made themselves useful by keeping him afoot.

"Take him in here, Captain," said Velma, pointing someplace.

"Sorry, ma'am, we're under orders."

"He's sick and in need of help. I'm sure Lord Anton won't mind a little detour."

The captain hesitated.

"Oh, do bring him, Captain, he's obviously in no condition to escape."

"No, ma'am, but that's not the point. When the overduke gives an order it's my duty to obey."

"I don't question that, I'm just saying do it ten minutes from now. Do bring Lord Cadmus in here and ring the house bell for the doctor."

More hesitation. Velma not having any actual authority was the problem. Now if she had rank or was more than Anton's girlfriend that would make a difference. On the other hand, Anton had a (usually) lenient manner about him, was known to be a kind man, and positively doted on the lady. She wasn't being unreasonable, and it did help that she was pretty. Cadmus hoped she would win. He wanted to get to know her better. She could help him with his conquest of Filima.

Filima . . . there was some sort of trouble connected with her. Had to do with somebody or other she'd been married to . . .

"In here," Velma ordered. "Please?" Stern but charming about it.

Captain Rockbush yielded. Couldn't blame him. Few men would be able to hold out for long against her eyes. Cadmus found himself being half carried into one of the many palace parlors. A nice one with lots of comfy chairs. They let him lie out on a long settee. Mmm. Velvet covering. Very soft. Now if he could just shut his eyes for a little he'd sleep off this not-hangover and sort the rest out in the morning.

"Cadmus?"

d.a.m.n, she was slapping his face and shaking him awake. What was it with women that they absolutely could not stand to let a sleeping man sleep? "Yes? Ad yer serv'ce, lady. What d'ye need?" He'd be politeif it killed him.

There was some sort of trouble involving killing, too. Was it that wizard he'd planned to skewer earlier today? No, he'd changed his mind about him. Had gone back to Burkus House to dress for dinner with the overduke.

"Wake up, man, and tell me what happened in Anton's Black Room. You two were going to try an experiment."

"We were?" When did he go to the palace? He'd just been up in his room choosing clothes for the evening, antic.i.p.ating an overnight stay. He was going to make a quick call on Filima so she could see how splendid he looked in his dress clothes on his charger, off to see the overduke himself about high and mighty matters. That would have to impress her. Cadmus had been undecided about whether or not to wear his great chain with-no, of course he'd rejected the heavy gold and gone with the black pearl . . . um . . . and then something had interrupted. . . .

"Yes, you two went up there not half an hour ago. Why does Anton suddenly want you in the dungeon?"

Velma's urgent voice yanked him into the present.

"Oh, it's not Anton, but Botello who wants me there." Good gawds, what was he on about?

Velma asked the very same question, then urged Rockbush to ring for the doctor again and to hurry.

"What do you mean about Lord Botello? He's dead."

"Only bodily displaced," Cadmus corrected. He winced, vaguely recalling an evil memory of getting psychically shocked by a not-so-dead man whose present residence was h.e.l.l. Pity the b.a.s.t.a.r.d couldn't stay there. Hadn't stayed there. Leaping about like a locust he was. And as hungry. "He's being very difficult about it, too. Wish he'd leave me alone."

"Who? Anton or Botello?"

"Both. Though it's mostly Botello. You haven't any cold mint tea have you? Dinner was lovely, but left me rather too full-"

"What are you talking about, Cadmus?"

"Mint tea. Good for the belly-I mean digestion. I do beg your pardon. Didn't mean to go all vulgar. Do say you'll forgive me."

"Delirious?" suggested Captain Rockbush somewhere above him. "It's that or drunk and he don't smell drunk. More like rotten eggs."

"You got that, too?" Velma again. "It's all over his clothes."

Sweet of her to be so concerned about his scent, especially since it wasn't very pleasant. Cadmus really must send her some flowers or compose a modest poem to show his grat.i.tude. Nothing too elaborate, mustn't give the overduke cause for jealousy or Filima the idea that she had been displaced.

Displaced . . . now Filima's husband was quite another matter on that topic. But Botello wasn't her husband now that he was-for all practical purposes on this side of Reality-dead. The mourners stuffed his body in the Darmo crypt, had a drink to his memory, and that should have been the end of thebusiness, but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d just couldn't leave well enough alone. He should stay decently dead and let his dear widow move on with her life. If she was called his widow, what was Botello's designation of relation to her now? Was there a name for it besides "the deceased"? Might make for an interesting conversation some rainy evening. Just not with Filima.

"Cadmus!"

More shaking.

"Yes, m'lady, right here, at yer serv'ce."

"What's that rotten egg smell?"

Mmm? Was that a trick question? Or were they playing Riddle or Diddle? He always liked the game.

Usually won.

"Doctor, thank goodness!"

Someone else had joined the party. Cadmus hoped to now be excused from the gaming circle so he could nap, but it was not to be. He found himself being poked, thumped, his heart listened to, his eyelids pried open, and his ears a.s.saulted with questions. Shouted questions.

"Not so loud, if you please, I'm not deaf," he complained.

"Then wake yourself, Lord Cadmus," the man bellowed.

d.a.m.ned if I will, so there!Cadmus purposely shut his eyes. The intrusion abated for a moment then he abruptly and nastily breathed in the most horrid, acidic, pungent, oh-my-gawds-get-that-away-from-me, stinging, nose-burningstench .

"Argh! Agh! Foo!" he cried, trying to wave it off. He sat bolt upright and stared around. The inventory of the room, besides the plush furniture, included Velma, two guards, and a bald young man with a squint who happened to be the doctor in residence for the ducal palace. The four of them stared back at Cadmus with varying expressions of concern, puzzlement, suspicion, and squinty satisfaction.

"Wonderful stuff," said the doctor, putting a cork stopper on a gla.s.s vial, the source of the smell. "My mother gave me the recipe. Good for all kinds of hystericals."

"I am not given to hysterics," Cadmus said, a trifle archly.

"No, but you weren't at all well. Bit of mental wandering, sir. Not the done thing in polite society."

"Oh, that's different, then." Cadmus instantly understood. This doctor fellow seemed a man after his own heart. Perhaps he'd had similar schooling in gentlemanly graces.

"You said some very interesting things, though. Would you mind explaining them to us?"

"I should be delighted, sir. And lady." He nodded at Velma. "If you would be so kind as to jog my memory, just the smallest nudge will do." He hoped. Something was stirring in Rumpock. Had to do with a dream or nightmare, only he'd been awake. Overduke Anton was-was . . . Cadmus shot to his feet. "Oh, my gawds!"

Darmo House, Botello's Other Black Room Terrin had fired up enough candles for a pope's birthday cake. When you're cut off from a culture with electricity all over the place, you miss the truly useful things like lightbulbs. We could have employed a bank of them here, the kind they put in baseball stadiums for night games. It would have made a good stab against the gloom of Botello Darmo's other sanctum. Though not underground, it was just as dark and seemed all the more disturbing for being behind an ordinary door.

Instead of using a free-standing pavilion, he'd shrouded a small interior room entirely with the trendy black velvet-layers and layers of it. So much that I wanted to own stock in the town's fabric concession and maybe go down in Rumpock history as the dude who invented their first vacuum cleaner. There was enough dust in here to dress an Okie set for a remake ofThe Grapes of Wrath.

"Whuuaa-aahhh-choooo!" was my first comment when we all crowded inside. Shankey thoughtfully loaned me a handkerchief. From the crumpling it was the one he'd jammed in the swiveling tunnel door. I used it anyway, so thoroughly that he told me to keep it.

While I wiped my nose and sneezed, Terrin and Filima got busy at a paper-blanketed formation that might have served as a work desk. It was so buried under books and other office-style clutter I couldn't tell. The dust got worse for their excavations, but I stuck it out until Filima, who already had a head start on nasal problems with her recent crying, called a sniffling retreat.

Terrin, apparently immune, stayed behind as the rest of us emerged into the hall. Filima and I then had a brief sneezing, nose-blowing contest, which I won, but only because my facial anatomy gave me a larger practice field.

"What a mess," she complained. "No wonder he forbade me to ever go in there. It wasn't because he had secrets, he just knew the first thing I'd do would be to call in the cleaning maids."

"He had secrets all right," I said. "Didn't you feel the magical energy?"

She nodded.

But Shankey shook his head like a guy trying hard to get a joke. "It gave me the creeps. Is that what magic feels like?"

"Hiskind." Meaning Botello, who had a very negative style.

My nose was clear now, and since Shankey was absolutely unaffected by the dust I got the idea that we'd run into another type of burglar alarm, one directed specifically at those sensitive to magic. Botello was looking to be a little more brainy than I'd estimated, or at least subtle. A non-pract.i.tioner would find nothing of interest or sense in the arcane books and papers. The ones who might would be so busy with allergy symptoms times twenty they'd be forced to leave. He'd probably worked a neutralizer into the spell so as to exclude himself. Terrin should have been forced out by now, but he was a special case, being a lot more powerful than Botello to the point of taking advantage of things.

"Dark magic," Shankey muttered. "Don't worry. By the time Terrin's done the room will be sucked clean."

"But if it's a dark conjuring, won't that be bad for him?"

"Not Terrin. He's weird that way. Black, white, gray, green with orange polka dots, magic's all the same to him. He's trying to recover what's been drained out of him." Which could amount to a lot of whammy juice. He'd been seriously bad off earlier today. I hoped he'd get enough stored to allow us to split this world, but not so soon that we couldn't help Filima.

She brushed at dust clinging to her sleeves, but from her expression her mind was on something else.

Breaking off in mid-swipe, she fixed Shankey with her gaze. Uh-oh.

"Captain, I have a very serious request to ask of you."

He did that coming-to-attention thing again. "My lady."

"A request, not an order."

Shankey went to an at-ease posture. "Ma'am?"

"It's to do with all that I spoke of downstairs in that awful room. I'm asking if you would not say anything about it to anyone until and unless I tell you otherwise. I could order you as your liege-lady, but I'd rather ask you as a friend."

The look that came over his face was a doozy. Right then and there if she'd asked him to jump off a cliff into a lion pit he'd have done it-as her friend. Heck, I might do it too, and I wasn't at all ready to commit to a relationship.

"My lady honors me," he said, pretty humble.

"Will you?"

"Yes, my lady. What was said in that room stays there. I understand the consequences."

"It's for Darmo House, not me."

"It's for all of us," he said, solemn.

If I hadn't known he was already involved with the house cook I'd have told them to get a room.

Speaking of cooks . . . "Now that that's out of the way, how 'bout some food?" I suggested brightly.

They stared, but what the hey, I hadn't eaten since lunch, just some nibbles from Terrin's tray. Huge as it was, I'd finally used it up, especially in the last hour or so. Trudging through tunnels and listening to harrowing stories about fighting demons does that to me.

"But we don't have time to eat," said Filima.

"Where'd you get that?" I wanted to know. Tense lady, but she had good reason. She needed to relax; we all did. I opened the door to the room. Terrin was seated before the pile of arcane stuff, focused on paperwork. There was noticeably less dust, and by half-closing my eyes I could make out a thin but steady stream of minute specks swirling into a spot between his shoulder blades. They swirled into it like water down a drain, going right through his Hawaiian shirt and the T-shirt he wore under it. He had a special tattoo on his back, which was linked to his magic, of course, like everything else about him. Some days it was hard to tell if he was dedicated, driven, or just filling in time between techno-raves and getting laid. Right now it was business as usual.

"Dude . . . you gonna be awhile?"

He gave a grouchy grunt that could have meant anything.

"Ooo-kay. We'll be in the kitchen when you're done."

Grunt. Of the "don't bother me" variety.

"Boy, is he in a chatty mood," I said to them, pulling the door shut. "Thought he never would b.u.t.ton it.

Come on, I need a beer-and-pizza fix."

"What's pizza?" asked Shankey.