Light and brightness and all the colors from a children's story book. A building which followed no architectural discipline and would have been a hazard on any ordinary world.
The imagination of a child constructed in crystal and given solidity-the triple arch left no doubt as to whom that child must be. It would have been natural for Iduna to have copied the outstanding feature of her mother's palace.
"The castle," said Virdius. "The residence of Her Majesty. You have done well."
"More than well-I've won."
"Not as yet," corrected the guide. "You have yet to reach the castle. Beside the door, you see? A gong which must be struck by your hand. Only when you have done that will victory be granted."
He stood on the bank of the river, neat in his armor, his darkly handsome face impassive beneath the curved and pointed helmet. Standing in the water, Dumarest looked at him then at the castle. He was too low to see clearly but remembered the surround was of emerald sward which sloped from the bank to the moat. A surge and he was on land, dripping, little puddles collecting at his feet as he examined the approaches. Stepping forward he saw no advertised dangers.
Was winning to be so easy?
Halfway to the gong he heard the flap of wings and ducked as a bird, diving from a turret, suddenly darted at his eyes. A big, wide-winged creature which cawed and circled and came in again to attack his face. Again Dumarest ducked, rising with naked steel in his right hand, an edge which slashed to leave the bird flapping without a head, blood staining the grass.
"My move now, I think?"
"No, the bird is a natural part of the castle. The attack was not a calculated part of the game."
And how many more "natural" hazards would there be?
Dumarest stepped warily, watching for traps set in the grass; wires or snares triggered by the passage of his foot, even camouflaged predators trained to stay immobile until an intruder was within reach. The guide, he noted, had fallen behind him, his feet making no sound as they trod the sward.
Too easy.
It was all too easy!
Dumarest threw himself forward, turning in the air to hit the ground with his shoulders, seeing the splinter-bright flash of steel, the thin, vicious whine as the sword cut the air where he had been standing. A blow aimed to slash his legs and one delivered with enough strength to have cut them from his body. Beneath his helmet Virdius looked as impassive as before.
"You cheated!" Dumarest rolled as the blade tore grass and dirt at his side. "You've taken extra moves!"
"No, this move was incorporated in the first and that was when we met. Now it is being used."
An attack delivered without warning and one which would have crippled him and forced him to move which would have left the move to Iduna-how often had she played this murderous game before?
And how often was the guide permitted to attack?
Again steel whined through the air to touch the heel of his boot as Dumarest anticipated its fall, to roll and rise and parry the next swing, the thin, clear note of tempered metal rising as his knife met the longer sword. Longer and so more awkward to manipulate and a hindrance once an opponent was within the range of the point. Before the guide could shorten his blade Dumarest was on him, knife slamming up and into the face, the point shearing up a nostril, to smash through the sinus and into the brain. A blow aimed to kill.
One which would have killed an ordinary man but Virdius was far from that.
Backing he tore himself free of the blade and stood, his ruined face expressionless as again he lifted his sword, feet shifting to accommodate a lunge. Dumarest swayed as it came, felt the touch against his side and clamped his left arm down hard against the weapon, trapping it against his side. A step and his right hand darted forward with two rapid motions and this time Iduna had no choice. Either she moved or yielded her piece-a blinded man makes a poor warrior.
Then, as Dumarest watched, Virdius vanished.
He did it slowly, a fragment at a time, the face melting as if made of wax to shrink in a stream of sparkling vapor which wreathed about the helmet and left it empty. Then the armor itself, metal thinning to become gossamer and then to disappear to leave the remainder standing like a grotesque parody of what had been. Then, last of all, the sword joined the rest.
And from the door of the castle, came terror.
It filled the arched opening and swept over the drawbridge in the shape of a glittering cloud of singing mist which spun and weaved and held faces which grimaced and held the attention while from it radiated a cold, merciless aura which chilled the blood and prickled the skin and filled the mind with all the horrors ever heard of ghosts and goblins and things which haunted the dark and swept down to eat the unwary and leave them mewing and unwanted in dismal places.
Iduna's move.
Her last.
The shimmering, singing mist condensed, lifted in a plume of vapor which poured into a bottle of purple glass which Dumarest corked and, holding it high, took one step and threw it hard against the gong.
As the brazen note died he passed into the castle in search of the girl.
She waited in a hall rich with tapestries, gemmed ornaments, tables loaded with succulent dainties, an army of dolls. Lights dazzled so that for a moment Dumarest could see nothing but reflected brilliance, then he caught the watchful presence of guards, of attendants, of an animal which rose bristling, of the woman who calmed it with a hand.
Shamarre who looked older and uglier than he remembered and who glared at him from her station at the foot of the throne.
On it sat a girl.
Dumarest studied her as he walked toward the dais narrowing his eyes against the brilliance of the jewels which adorned her, the glitter of the ornate crown. It rested on a mane of hair which seemed like liquid jet, each strand a filament of bright and shining loveliness. The face was a pale oval, the lips full and pouting, the eyes wide and graced by arched brows. The chin lacked strength as the body lacked maturity and the mouth resolution. As he watched she lifted a thumb and placed it within her mouth to suck as she watched his approach.
"That is close enough!" Shamarre was curt. "Halt and make obeisance to Her Majesty."
Without looking at her Dumarest snapped, "The Lord of Earth does not take orders from underlings." Then, to the figure on the throne added harshly, "My lady-you cheated!"
The thumb lowered from the mouth.
"I did not!"
"The beast which attacked me close to the river-"
"Was a natural hazard. It was fair according to the rules. I did not cheat-so there!"
"A natural hazard," said Dumarest dryly. "As was the bird and the guide you sent me. A clever trick, my lady. I must congratulate you."
"I like to win," she said and giggled. "You looked so funny wearing those shoes and so startled when Virdius attacked. But you played well. Much better than the others. They didn't seem to know how to play at all. I'm glad you came here to join me. Would you like some tea and a cake?"
The cake was spiced and sweet and covered in thick, rich cream and he ate it in a small room seated at a table bright with the glitter of cups and plates and pots of solid gold. Others were at the table with himself and Iduna; a bear which stared with solemn, rounded eyes as it ate with delicate movements of a paw, a doll with a painted face which squeaked and scolded as it sipped, a dog with drooping ears which sat and watched and snapped thrown fragments from the air.
Iduna acted as the hostess.
"This tea is a special blend from Katanga," she said with adult pride. "I have galleys carrying it for me through the perils of the Juntinian Sea. And these cakes I baked myself using ingredients gathered from a dozen worlds. Teddy! Don't you be so greedy! Snap-here!" She smiled as the dog caught and swallowed a portion of cake. "When you've finished, Earl, shall we play another game?"
"Which?"
"Hide and seek?" She frowned. "No, not that one, not yet. How about armies? You take one side and I'll take the other and we have a war and the winner gets the other to pay a forfeit. Would you like to play that?"
"Later, perhaps."
"How much later?" She pouted her displeasure. "How long must I wait? We could play schools. I'll be the teacher and ask you questions and if you don't give me the correct answers I'll punish you." Then, as he made no comment, she added crossly, "Well, you think of a game."