"We need time to -"

"I want your answer in an hour," she said tightly.

There was a pause. Then: "As you wish."

"I will call you."

She flipped the toggle, and the images faded. With some effort, she rose from the chair.

The far door opened and Deems came in.

"Did you communicate with them?" he asked, walking over.

"Yes," she said.

"Are you ill? You look peaked. Let me get you some refreshment."

"Thank you. Negotiating with them is draining. Don't you remember how it was?"

Deems went to a small cabinet and took out a bottle of sherry and two glasses. He filled both glasses and gave one to Ferne, who had seated herself on a recliner. "We all toyed with the Hosts of Hell at one time or another. Fascinating lot. Hideously dangerous, of course, which made them all the more alluring to the young and disgruntled. Yes, I well remember their incessant attempts to seduce one of us into letting them out of their hellhole." Deems sighed disconsolately. "And I suppose they've finally succeeded."

"Had they accomplished it when we were children, they would have overrun the castle."

"And would have taken control of Creation."

"Perhaps, although I think it's possible to overestimate them. They are powerful, but surely not godlike."

"Be that as it may, I hope you and Inky can control them, as you claim you can. There'll be hell to pay - quite literally, I should imagine! - if you're mistaken."

"You worry too much, Deems. You always did."

"What if Inky doesn't give in? Do you really need him?"

"No, not really. I think I have a few things over on Inky these days. Though his cooperation would make things a little easier, I admit."

Deems looked at her askance. "Why do I have trouble believing you?"

She laughed. "Don't be silly. I've told you everything. You have no reason to doubt me. Besides, what do you care about all this? You'll get your gold, one way or another."

Chewing his lip and looking dissatisfied, Deems sat down on an ancient thronelike chair and threw one chain-mailed leg up over the armrest. "Don't think I don't care about Perilous."

She laughed scornfully. "Deems, you've never cared for anything but drinking, wenching, and the occasional brawl."

"I don't deny that, but it doesn't mean I'd suffer lightly the destruction of my family's ancestral home."

"There won't be any destruction, Deems. Not unless Inky chooses to detransmogrify the castle."

Deems sat up. "Gods. Do you think he would?"

"Undoing the spell that maintains the castle and then immediately recasting the spell would be the optimum solution for him. In the process, everything and everyone in the place would ... well,vanish for want of a better word. No one really knows what happens. In any event, it would be a new shuffle of the deck. Recast the spell, transform the demon back into a castle, and everything reverts to what it was before any of this started." She took a sip of wine. "Of course, there is one problem. All of that is vastly more easy to say than to do. He was lucky once, a year or so ago. I don't think he'd risk it again. He'll see the wisdom of compromise. Eventually."

"You must open the gateway for him."

"No! Let him stew a while longer yet. We have to convince him we mean business."

"What if he breaks through on his own?"

"If he does, we take him into custody. It's that simple."

"Nothing is simple with old Inky, Ferne. You ought to know that."

"Oh, I know. I know."

Deems sat back and stared moodily into his glass. "If you would have suggested to me that we would have to deal with the Hosts, I would never have gone along with this. I would have taken Inky's side - gold or no gold - and would have fought you tooth and nail."

"I realize that," she said. "But that's not what happened. Is it?"

Deems fell silent for a long spell. Then he took a deep breath. "Damn me." He drained his glass in one gulp. "I've been a bloody fool."

"It's a little too late to back out, Deems dear."

"I've got to talk to Inky."

"No! You can't reach him."

"The Projector."

"I wouldn't advise it."

"Advise me no advice, woman." He rose, crossed to the table that held the Projector, and began fiddling with the device's control panel.

"Deems, Deems," she said in mock lament. "The Projector merely channels a spell and gives it form.

The operator has to provide the mental energy."

"I know there's a simple spell that sets up the device. Then it's merely a matter of calibrating -"

"Yes, you can find a book of standard utility spells - in the library. Your problem is fighting your way through hordes of invaders to get there."

Deems stopped fiddling and thrust his fists against his hips, glaring at his sister. "Damned meddling bitch!"

"Howdare you speak that way to me."

"I'll speak any way I bloody well -" He broke off. Brow lowered, Deems eyed her as if seeing both her and the situation anew. "You never meant to bargain with Inky, did you? You want to keep him out of the castle. Do away with him entirely, if you have to. Isn't that true?"

Ferne settled back in the recliner and lifted the glass to her lips. "And if it is?" she said quietly.

"But ... " He threw out his arms helplessly. "But you can't hope to prevail against the Hosts by yourself!

Surely you don't think yourself the equal of Inky as a magician. No one is. He's the master of Perilous!

Only he can tap the castle's deepest source of power."

"Because he's a man?"

Deems was brought up short. "Eh? Because he's a - ? Well ... yes!" He shrugged expansively. "I suppose ."

"You suppose."

"This is ridiculous! Females may succeed to the throne only in the absence of a suitable male heir apparent. You know that as well as I do. What of it?"

"That is the tradition. But it has no bearing on who may tap the castle's power. You silly men have simply got to realize -"

Deems silenced her with an upraised hand. "Stop confusing the issue! I see now what you've done, and why you did it. This was all a scheme to divide the family, clearing the way for your bid to power. You haven't the least intention of sharing power - with Inky, or me, or anyone else! You want all of it!"

"I deserve it," she said. "I'm the only one who's not afraid to use it."

"But surely you realize that the Hosts don't mean to share with you, either!"

"I don't know about that. They have certain ambitions, but they can be placated for the time being.

Pacified."

"Appeased, you mean?"

Ferne's blue eyes turned to ice. "I needed allies, powerful allies! Who was I to turn to? You? Trent? Or maybe my fat cow of a sister."

Deems grunted. "Dorcas is the best one of a bad litter."

"Pig shit. I needed allies, and I found them."

"Not yet. Not while they're still ensconced in their hellhole."

She laughed, throwing her head back.

Appalled, Deems regarded her. "What in the name of all the gods ... " Understanding bloomed on his face. Paling, he brought his hand to his throat. "The gods be merciful. Woman, tell me you haven't already unbuttoned them."

She continued laughing and he knew.

Ashen-faced, he sat down and stared at the floor. When he spoke, his voice was empty. "Inky's the only card you hold. He's the threat you're holding over them. The threat that Inky will return and detransmogrify the castle."

"And I have him bottled up," she said, still giggling. "Corked." She burst into another bout of laughter.

"It was the security spell on the Hosts' portal that you undid first," Deems droned on. "One of the oldest in the castle. One of Ervoldt's spells. No wonder Inky was concerned. No wonder he raced off to earth to find Trent. Trent specialized in ancient magic. Inky probably needed his advice. Doubtless Inky suspected Trent of having done it, but in any event he had to confront him."

Recovered from her mirth, Ferne regarded her brother with raised eyebrows. "Deems, this new pastime of yours may prove your undoing."

"Eh?"

"Thinking. You've done so little of it in your life. This much exertion all at once ... Well, it can't be healthy." She took another sip. "Anyway, you're wrong in all the details. Details are important, Deems."

Deems slowly rose and crossed to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself another glass of sherry, retired to the leather throne again, and sank into it.

Suddenly he bolted upright and set his glass down on a side table. He fixed his sister in a penetrating stare. "Here's more thinking for you. If the Hosts have had access to the castle for - how long? - six months? If they've had time to send out scouts, or agents, or whatever, may they not now be on Earth trying to do Inky in?"

"I doubt it."

"You doubt it? Great gods, woman! You mean to say the possibility exists?"

"Well, yes. Before I stabilized the Earth portal, it was free for anyone to use, if it could be located. But why would the Hosts send agents to Earth?"

"To keep an eye on you, of course! Tell me, are any of your servants at your Earth residence?"

"Of course, some of my bodyguards. Their job is to keep Inky from -"

"Listen to me. Have you hired any new servants within the last six months?"

She thought. "Yes. Those bodyguards, in fact." Suddenly Ferne became motionless, a strange light in her eyes. She stared off for a moment. Then she shrugged, and drank the last of the sherry. "I suppose the possibilitydoes exist." Smiling sweetly, she held out her glass. "Do be a dear and fetch me more wine."

Twenty-two.

Temple.

"TRY IT AGAIN," Gene said.

Linda put out her hands and closed her eyes. A china plate with a hamburger on it materialized on the stone floor of the temple.

Gene picked the hamburger up and bit into it, tasting it clinically. "Better than the last one," he pronounced. "Edible, but still not what you'd call gourmet."

"It's getting a little easier," Linda said. "But I doubt if I'll ever be as good as I was in the castle."

"Well, that goes without saying. The castle is a huge power source."

Sheila said, "Let me see if I understand this. You're saying that this world is one in which magic works.

Right?"

"Right," Gene said.

"But it's not the same kind of magic that's in the castle?"

"Right again. Different universe, different laws."