Castle Roogna (19 page)

       "Uh, yes, Your Majesty," Dor mumbled.

       The King contemplated him. "I gather you are from Mundania, though you seem to have had some garbled account of Xanth." He glanced at Millie. "And the young lady has the aspect of the West Stockade. They do raise some pretty fruits there." He looked at Jumper. "And this person-I don't believe I have encountered a jumping spider of your magnitude before, sir. Is it an enchantment?"

       "He called me sir," Jumper cluttered. "Is a King supposed to do that?"

       "A King," Roogna said firmly, "can do just about anything he chooses. Preferably he chooses to rule well. I note your voice is translated by a web on the warrior's shoulder." His aspect hardened, and he began to suggest the manner Dor had expected in a King. "This interests me. There appears to be unusual magic here."

       "Yes, Your Majesty," Dor said quickly. "There is considerable enchantment here, but it is hard to explain."

       "All magic is hard to explain," Roogna said.

       "He makes things talk," Millie said helpfully. "The sticks and stones don't break his bones. They talk to him. And walls and water and things. That's how we found our way here."

       "A Mundane Magician?" Roogna asked. "This is a virtual contradiction in terms!"

       "I, uh, said it was hard to explain, Your Majesty," Dor said awkwardly.

       A figure approached: a compact squarish man of the King's generation, with a slightly crooked smile. "Do I smell something interesting, Roogna?" he inquired.

       "You do indeed, Murphy," the King replied. "Here, let's introduce ourselves more adequately. I am Magician Roogna, pro-term King. My talent is the adaptation of living magic to my purpose." He looked meaningfully at Dor.

       "I, uh, I am Dor. Er, Magician Dor. My talent is communication with the inanimate." Then, in case that wasn't clear, he added: "I talk to things."

       The King prompted Millie with another glance. "I am Millie the maid, an innocent girl of the West Stockade village," she said. "My talent is-" She blushed delicately, and her talent manifested strongly. "Sex appeal."

       On around the circle: "I am Phidippus Variegatus of the family of Salticidae: Jumper the spider for short," Jumper chittered. "My talent, like that of all my kind, is silk."

       At last it came to the newcomer. "And I am Magician Murphy. My talent is making things go wrong. I am the chief obstacle to Roogna's power, and his rival for dominance in Xanth."

       Dor's mouth dropped open. "You are the Enemy Magician? Right here with the King?"

       King Roogna laughed. "What better place? It is true we oppose each other, but this is a matter of politics. Magicians, as a rule, do not practice their talents directly on each other. We prefer to manifest our powers more politely. Murphy and I are two of the three Magicians extant. The third has no interest in politics, so we two are the rivals for power in Xanth. We are trying our strength in this manner: if I can succeed in completing Castle Roogna before the year is out, Murphy will yield me uncontested title to the throne. If I fail, I will abdicate the throne, and since there is no other Magician suitable for the office, the anarchy that follows will likely foster Murphy as the dominant figure. Meanwhile we share the camaraderie of our status. It is an equitable arrangement."

       "But-" Dor was appalled; "You treat the welfare of the whole Land of Xanth as if it were a game!"

       The King shook his head gravely. "No game, Magician Dor. We are absolutely serious. But we also indulge ourselves in honor. If one of us can prevail in war, he can surely do it by humane rules of conduct. This is warfare of the civilized kind."

       Jumper chittered. "There is warfare of the uncivilized kind approaching," the web translated. "The harpies and the goblins are massing their forces to exterminate each other."

       Murphy smiled. "Ah, you betray my secret, spider!"

       "If anything can go wrong, it will," Dor said. "You mean the war between monsters is your doing?"

       "By no means, Magician," the Enemy demurred. "The war of monsters has roots going well back before our time, and no doubt will continue long after our time. My talent merely encourages the most violent outbreak at the least convenient time for Roogna."

       "And we need hardly guess where the two armies will randomly meet," King Roogna exclaimed, his gaze turning northward toward the incomplete Castle.

       "I had hoped it would be a surprise," Murphy admitted ruefully. "That would prevent you from calling back your troops in time to defend the Castle. But for the intrusion of these visitors, it might have been unforeshadowed."

       "So your talent fouled you up, this time!" Millie said.

       "Perhaps an eddy-current," Jumper chittered.

       "My talent is not proof against the influence of other Magicians," Murphy said. "The ramifications of the talents of Magician caliber extend well beyond the apparent aspects. If another Magician were to oppose me, my talent would feel the impact, regardless of the specific nature of the opposing talent. And it seems another Magician has indeed entered the picture. It will take time to comprehend the significance of this new element."

       That was an apt remark: Dor had entered the picture literally, for this was the tapestry, the picture-world.

       Murphy studied Dor with a certain disquieting intensity. "I would like to get to know you better, sir. Would you care to accept my hospitality for the duration of your stay here, or until we all hie into the Castle to avoid the ravages of the monsters? We had thought there were no unknown Magicians in Xanth at this time."

       "Sir?" Jumper chittered. He was still having a problem with this word, having seen its power.

       "But you are the enemy!" Dor protested.

       "Oh, go with him," Roogna said. "I lack proper facilities for three, at the moment, though soon the Castle will be in order. The maid can stay with my wife, and the spider I daresay would be happiest hanging from a tree. I assure you Murphy will not hurt you, Dor. It is his prerogative, by the rules of our contest, to be given opportunity to fathom significant new elements, particularly if they add to the strength of my position. I have a similar privilege to inspect his allies. You may both rejoin me and your companions for the evening repast."

       Somewhat bemused, Dor went with Murphy. "I don't understand this business, Magician. You act as if you and King Roogna are friends!"

       "We are peers. That's not the same as friends, but it will do. We have no others except the Zombie Master, and he is not one to associate with on this basis. There is of course neo-Sorceress Vadne, who would have assisted me had I agreed to marry her, but I declined and so she joined the King. But she is not a dominant figure. So if we desire the companionship of our level, we must seek it in each other. And now, it seems, in you. I am extremely curious about you, Dor."

       This was awkward. "I am from a far land."

       "Obviously. I had not been aware that any Magicians resided in Mundania."

       "Well, I'm not really from Mundania." But could he afford to tell the whole truth?

       "Don't tell me, let me guess! Not from Mundania-so it must be somewhere in Xanth. North of the Gap?"

       "You remember the Gap?"

       "Shouldn't I?"

       "Uh, I guess it's all right. I-my people have trouble remembering the Gap, sometimes."

       "Strange. The Gap is most memorable. So you're south of it?"

       "Not exactly. You see, I-"

       "Let's see your talent. Can you make this jewel talk?" Murphy held up a glittering emerald.

       "What is your nature?" Dor asked the stone. "What are you worth? What is your secret?"

       "I am glass," the jewel responded. "A fake. I am worth almost nothing. The Magician has dozens like me to give to greedy fools for their support."

       Murphy raised an expressive eyebrow. "But you are not fake, Dor! There must be few secrets hidden from you! A remarkable informational talent!"

       "Yes."

       "So the mystery expands! How could a full Magician have remained concealed so long? Roogna and I once harnessed a magic sniffer and surveyed this whole region. That was how the site for the Castle was selected. There is a high concentration of useful magic here, and overall the effect is very strong. If the source of all magic is not in this vicinity, it can not be far from it. So we found enchantment aplenty, but no Magicians. Yet in our experience, no really strong magic emerges from the hinterland. How could a man of Mundane aspect, with a warrior's reflexes, turn up suddenly with such a talent? It hardly seems possible."

       Dor shrugged.

       "In fact, I suspect it is impossible-or rather, it must be the result of magic beyond our present comprehension. Some special enchantment-" He broke off, lifting one finger expressively. "An anachronism! That would account for it! You are from the Land of Xanth-in another time!"

       "Uh, yes," Dor said. Murphy was no fool!

       "Not the past, surely, for there is no record of such a talent historically. Of course many of the ancient records have been lost, owing to Waves and such. Still, talents tend to grow more sophisticated with time, and yours is quite sophisticated. So it must be the future. How far?"

       The truth could not be concealed from this clever man! "Eight hundred years," Dor admitted.

       They had arrived at Murphy's tent. "Come in, have a drink of cider-a fine sweet-cider press just fruited in my yard-and tell me all about it."

       "But I'm not on your side!" Dor blurted. "I want King Roogna to win!"

       "Naturally you do. All right-thinking people do. Fortunately for me, there are as many wrong-thinking people as right-thinkers. But surely you must realize that ignorance serves my purpose, not his. Only the orderly categorization of facts can promote a stable kingdom."

       "Then why do you want this information? Are you going to try to do something to me?" Dor's hand touched his sword.

       "Magicians do not act against Magicians," Murphy reminded him. "Not directly. I mean you no personal mischief. Rather, I am trying to determine the impact and meaning of your presence here. The addition of another full Magician to the equation could change the outcome of our contest. If your force is sufficient to tip the balance in Roogna's favor, and I cannot reverse it, then I would have to concede the throne to him without further ado, and save us all much torment. Therefore it behooves both Roogna and me to ascertain your nature, early and accurately. Why do you think he sent you with me?"

       "You two are the strangest enemies I ever saw! I can't follow the convolutions of your game."

       "We merely abide by the rules. Without rules, there is no game." Murphy handed him a glass of cider. "Tell me the whole story, Dor, and we shall ascertain how your presence affects our situation. You will be welcome then to explain it to the King."

       Dor seemed to have no choice. He wished Jumper were here to advise him, or Grundy the golem; he just didn't have confidence in his own judgment. Yet he always felt most at home with the truth. So he told the Enemy Magician as much of the story as he could organize: his quest to help restore a zombie, the inclusion of Jumper in the spell, the adventure within the tapestry.

       "No problem about locating the Zombie Master," Murphy said. "The problem is, he won't help you."

       "But only he knows the secret of restoring zombies! That's the whole purpose in my-"

       "He may know," Murphy said. "But he won't tell. He does nothing for anyone. That is why he lives alone."

       "I still have to ask him," Dor said stubbornly. "Meanwhile, what about you? Now that you know King Roogna did-I mean will-complete the Castle-"

       "That is indeed a ponderous matter. Yet there are several considerations. One is that what you say may not be true."

       Dor was stung. His body's hand, responsive in its fashion to his mood, reached over his shoulder for the sword.

       Murphy held up a hand, unalarmed. "You sound so uncertain, yet your body reacts so aggressively! This corroborates your story, of course. Do not force me to use my magic against you. You would suffer mishap before ever you brought your weapon to bear. I did not call you a liar. I merely conjecture that you could be misinformed. History is notorious for misinformation. That castle you knew could have been built a century later and given the name of Roogna, to lend verisimilitude to the new order. How would you know?"

       "Very what?" Dor asked, confused.

       "Verisimilitude. Realism. To make it seem likely and true."

       Dor was startled. A Castle built much later, called Roogna. He had never thought of that.

       "But there are other approaches," Murphy continued. "Assume your version of history is accurate-as indeed it may be. Now you have returned. What can you do-except change your history? In which case your presence can at best be neutral, and at worst reverse the outcome of the present competition between Roogna and Murphy. So your excursion may be an auspicious omen for me. I hardly mean to interfere with you! I think it may be my talent that brought you here, to foul up Roogna."

       Dor was startled again. Himself, an agent of the enemy? Yet it was suddenly all too plausible!

       "But I rather suspect," Murphy continued, "that you will in fact prove unable to change history m any significant respect. I visualize it as a protean thing. Yielding to specific imperatives yet always reasserting itself when the pressure abates. I doubt anything you can do will have impact after you depart. It will be an interesting phenomenon to watch, however."

       Dor was silent. This Magician had neutralized him thoroughly, expertly, without doing a thing except talk. The worst of it was, he was very much afraid that Murphy was correct. The more Dor might try to interfere, here in the tapestry world, the more likely he was to hurt King Roogna's chances. So Dor would have to remain as neutral as possible, lest even his help prove disastrous.