Castle War! (5 page)

FINE SO FAR, BUT NEED YOUR HELP ON SOME STUFF. WHERE ARE YOU? AND HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS? THERE'S NO PHONE LINE TO THE COMPUTER.
 

USING A VERY BASIC SPELL. ABOUT ALL I CAN GET TO WORK HERE. TRIED TO SEND VIDEO AND AUDIO, BUT FLUBBED IT. I'M IN THE MERYDION ASPECT, STRANDED. THE PORTAL IS BLOCKED AND I CAN'T GET BACK. SOMETHING'S AFOOT, BUT DON'T KNOW WHAT. IS ANYTHING GOING ON AT THE CASTLE?
 

Jeremy looked at Osmirik, who shrugged.
 

NOTHING SO FAR. WHAT DO YOU THINK COULD HAVE BLOCKED THE PORTAL?
 

BEEN WAITING FOR SOME FALLOUT FROM THE DONNYBROOK WE HAD WITH THE HOSTS OF HELL LAST YEAR. WHAT THEY DID DISTURBED THE ETHEREAL FLUX BETWEEN THE UNIVERSES, AND THE WEAPON WE USED AGAINST THEM MAY HAVE DISTURBED IT MORE. NEVER EXPECTED A REACTION THIS LONG DELAYED, BUT LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE HAPPENING. IT'S SURE TO AFFECT THE CASTLE EVENTUALLY.
 

“Oh, dear,” Osmirik said. “I spoke too soon.”
 

Jeremy's fingers ticked across the keyboard.
 

WHY DON'T I JUST FIRE UP THE INTERUNIVERSAL TRAVELER AND COME PICK YOU UP?
 

TOO DANGEROUS. THERE'S NO TELLING WHAT STATE THE INTERUNIVERSAL MEDIUM IS IN. YOU COULD VERY EASILY GET CAUGHT BETWEEN DIMENSIONS AND NEVER GET BACK. I'll HAVE TO FIND SOME OTHER WAY. MEANWHILE, YOU MIGHT BE IN FOR HEAVY WEATHER.
 

WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN?
 

COULD BE ANYTHING. ASPECTS SHIFTING. DISAPPEARING. ALSO, YOU MAY SEE SOME STRANGE VARIANT UNIVERSES, ONES WE'VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE. EVEN ANTI-UNIVERSES OF ONES WE KNOW. ALL SORTS OF WEIRD STUFF. NO TELLING WHAT. IT COULD BE DANGEROUS. CAN YOU GET THE COMPUTER UP AND RUNNING SOON BY YOURSELF?
 

“Uh-oh,” Jeremy said. “He doesn't know what he's asking.”
 

NO CAN DO, SIR. IT'S TOO BIG A JOB FOR ME. I NEED YOUR HELP.
 

JEREMY, LISTEN. I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO CONTACT YOU AGAIN. HERE IS WHAT YOU MUST DO. YOU HAVE TO WRITE A SPELL PROGRAM AND RUN IT.
 

Jeremy gave Osmirik a baffled look.
 

He typed: WHAT KIND OF PROGRAM?
 

CALL IT A COSMOLOGY-PROCESSING PROGRAM. AS YOU KNOW, THE CASTLE OCCUPIES A CENTRAL PLACE IN THE MULTIVERSE, THE PLENUM OF THE VARIOUS UNIVERSES. THE FORCE OF ANY MAGIC WORKED THERE IS REINFORCED MANY TIMES AND CAN HAVE FAR-REACHING EFFECTS. WITH OUR NEW MORE POWERFUL COMPUTER, WE CAN REDRESS THE BALANCE AND STABILIZE THE COSMOS.
 

“He's crazy,” Jeremy said.
 

HOW? I CAN'T DO IT.
 

UNTIL I GET THERE, YOU'LL HAVE TO CARRY THE BALL. IS OSMIRIK WITH YOU?
 

HE'S RIGHT HERE.
 

GOOD. OZZIE, LISTEN. GET EVERYTHING YOU CAN ON COSMOLOGY, COSMOGONY, AND INTERCONTINUUM METAPHYSICS. ALSO MY MONOGRAPH ON INFLUENCE SPELLS. JEREMY, TAKE ALL THAT DATA AND FEED IT INTO BACKUP STORAGE VIA THAT NEW GIZMO I ORDERED, THE HARD-COPY SCANNER. OZZIE. THAT MEANS YOU'LL HAVE TO CUT OUT THE PAGES SO THAT JEREMY CAN USE THE SHEET FEEDER.
 

“My books!” Osmirik wailed. “They'll be ruined!”
 

Incarnadine went on: YOU CAN START ON THAT RIGHT NOW. JEREMY, YOU MUST HAVE THE OPERATING SYSTEM READY FOR A BIG JOB BY THE TIME I GET BACK. WILL YOU TRY?
 

Jeremy sighed. “Jesus, he's not giving me much choice.”
 

SURE. I'LL GIVE IT MY BEST SHOT. WHEN CAN YOU GET BACK?
 

I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON YOU. DON'T KNOW WHEN OR IF I CAN RETURN. MUST GET TO A PLACE OF POWER HERE WHERE MAGIC WILL WORK BETTER. THAT'S A PROBLEM, THOUGH. IF I DON'T GET BACK, THE COMPUTER CAN HELP YOU TO WRITE THE PROGRAM, IF YOU GET THE O.S. WORKING PROPERLY. BOOT UP A FILE DESIGNATED “ISIS.” IT'S AN A.I. PROGRAM, BUT IT'S NEVER BEEN THOROUGHLY DEBUGGED. COULD BE TRICKY, BUT ALSO POTENTIALLY EFFECTIVE. HAVE YOU GOT ALL THIS?
 

GOT IT. ANYTHING ELSE?
 

ALL FOR NOW. WILL TRY TO COMMUNICATE AGAIN SOON, BUT CAN'T PROMISE. YOU'RE AN ACE HACKER, KID. AND I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. MUST RING OFF. GOOD LUCK. INCARNADINE OUT....
 

Osmirik asked, “What is an A.I. program?”
 

“Stands for ‘artificial intelligence.' They really don't exist, not the real thing, anyway. But who knows what he came up with?”
 

Osmirik rolled up his sleeves. “I must get busy. There is no time to waste.”
 

“Yeah, I'll get the sheet feeder ready, and the scanner, which I haven't even taken out of the box yet.” Jeremy got up and stretched. “Can we get some room service up here? I'm gonna need a crapload of coffee, and food, and a cot to rack out in. Looks like we're in for a rough couple of days.”
 

“I'll alert the chamberlain. He will see that you get everything you need.”
 

“Great. I'm gonna need all the help I can get.”
 

“I will fetch the requisite materials from the library.”
 

“Right. See you later.”
 

Osmirik left and Jeremy sat back down.
 

He summoned up the utility file storage area and looked over the file directory. It was there; the file name was ISIS.AI. After not much debate, he loaded the program and executed it.
 

The screen came alive with color graphics.
 

 

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ISIS 2.0
 
Copyright 1950 by John Carney
 
ISIS is a
 
registered trademark of Castle Research, Inc.
 
All rights reserved.
 
No part of this program may be reproduced,
 
transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system,
 
or translated into any computer language, in any form
 
or by any means, without prior written approval of the
 
copyright holder. Nasty events could be the result.
 
This means you.

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“Jesus, nineteen-fifty! They didn't even have computers then!”
 

Jeremy read what appeared next.
 

YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO RUN ME WITHOUT CHECKING OUT THE OPERATING SYSTEM, BUT I'M GLAD YOU DID, ANYWAY. TURN AROUND AND LOOK, DARLING.

Jeremy jerked his head up and said, “Huh?”
 

He wheeled around in his chair and nearly fell off.
 

“Hello, Jeremy.”
 

She was about five feet seven inches tall and had long shiny black hair. Her eyes were large and blue, her lips full and pouting. She had a straight nose and high cheekbones and wore a slinky cocktail dress of black velvet, slit up the left thigh, with high-heeled black patent-leather shoes. Her legs were long and exquisitely turned, and she had on black net stockings.
 

Jeremy had some trouble with his lips. “Who—who—who are you?”
 

“I'm Isis.”
 

She came up and kissed him full on the mouth.
 

 

 

 

The Plains of Merydion

 

He put down the chalk, picked up a dry cloth, and wiped the piece of slate, erasing the last part of the message. The sending technique was primitive, but it had worked.
 

He set the slate down and picked up his flagon of wine. He drank deeply. When the flagon was empty, he sat awhile in thought.
 

Presently he got up and left the tent.
 

Gart, the warlord, was seated by the fire gnawing a haunch of mutton. It was late, and most of Gart's army was asleep. Campfires burned low on the plain. A hide-and-seek moon played in the clouds above. Out in the darkness, sentries walked the perimeter of the camp.
 

Gart looked up from his meal. He smiled, gap-toothed and devilish, his beard glistening with grease. “What goes, magician? Communicating with your spirits again?”
 

“No, I phoned home.”
 

“Eh?”
 

“Sent a message.” The magician sat down on a flat stone by the fire. “To my family.”
 

“Ah. Things go well, I trust.”
 

“No, unfortunately not. There is trouble, and I must leave to attend to it.”
 

Gart was dismayed. “But we fight in the morning!”
 

“My apprentices can handle it. Besides, you have the advantage in numbers.”
 

“I was counting on a supernatural advantage, magician.”
 

“You will have it. Fire spells, forfending spells, zone-of-death curses, everything.”
 

“But you are more skilled than any apprentice, and skill is all in these things.”
 

“The spells are simple, because magic—here, at least—is a simple matter. And not very potent, either. I have told you many times that if you win the day, it will be by dint of superior military talent and cunning. These you have in adequate supply.”
 

“That I'm capable is true enough. But any extra leverage, however slight, is desirable.” Gart threw down the haunch and picked up a wineskin. “I'm afraid you will have to stay, magician.”
 

The magician said quietly, “I'm afraid that will not be possible.”
 

Gart tilted the skin and a stream of wine poured into his mouth. He grimaced and spat it out, threw down the skin. “Soured! Damn that provisioner. I'll have him hoisted by his stones and left to savor like a game hen.”
 

The magician was silent.
 

Avoiding the other man's gaze, Gart searched the night sky. The fire crackled, and insects buzzed.
 

Suddenly the warlord's head swung around, mouth twisted into a sneer. “Very well, go! You know I can't force you to stay. Bear in mind, though—I won't forget. When next the nobles sit in council, I will vote against you on every issue! I will be a thorn in your foot, a canker on your lip. I will block you!”
 

“You would do that, anyway.”
 

“I'll ... damn it all to hell!” Gart got to his feet, picked up the mutton and heaved it out into the darkness. Grunting in disgust, he stalked away.
 

The magician stared into the fire for a moment, watching it glow and pulsate and send puffs of smoke into the night—cryptic signals.
 

He went back to his tent and packed his things. He didn't have much. He stuffed the satchel, gathered up his maps and battle plans, and left.
 

He went to Jarlen's tent and woke him.
 

Jarlen blinked. “Master?”
 

“I'm leaving. Think you can carry on without me tomorrow?”
 

“You won't be here?” Jarlen sat up. “I don't know. I ... I think so. Perhaps.”
 

“Uh, could you be more definite?”
 

Jarlen rubbed his eyes. Then he nodded. “I can do it.”
 

“That's more like it.” He handed the boy a sheaf of papers. “Here are the battle plans. You've seen them before. Study them, then burn them before the battle. Draw your pentacles straight and true. And don't muff any incantations. If you do, you'll have to start over from the beginning.”
 

“I'll try.”
 

“Good. Get up. You've got work to do.”
 

Jarlen struggled out of his bedclothes.
 

“Come see me off, then go wake the other lads. You'll need all their help.”
 

“Master, may I ask where you're going?”
 

“Home.”
 

“Your estate?”
 

“My castle.”
 

“The one in a far country, where you are known by a different name?”
 

“That one.”
 

They walked to where the horses were tethered. The magician tied his satchel to the saddle, then mounted.
 

“Master?”
 

“Yes, Jarlen?”
 

“May I ask some questions which I have never dared ask you before?”
 

“Shoot.”
 

“Is it true what they say about your castle?”
 

“What do they say?”
 

“That it is enchanted, and that it is at the center of all things.”
 

“It's very enchanted. And it is conveniently located.”
 

“Is your castle in this world or another?”
 

“Another.”
 

“How will you get there?”
 

“With great difficulty. In order to cast an effective teleportation spell, I must go to a place of power in this world.”