Read Online Ellen Under The Stairs by John Stockmyer - Free Book Online
Authors: John Stockmyer
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his and
Platinia's robes to the Laundromat earlier in the week.
He had money -- what passed for money
in the bands of this world: flat, slugs of silver and gold, no
pictures or writing on them. Coins that were still in the pockets
he'd had stitched into his robe before the last transfer, pockets
not yet a part of Bandworld apparel.
The ceiling soared over him,
punctuated by the irregular spot of golden sky lancing through the
section of collapsed roof to light a patch of sodden floor. Good!
The time of day was what the natives called full light -- daytime
-- light-magic the universal translator of tongues.
Somber, stone-block walls circled the
room, wedge shaped indentations in them through which arrow slits
had been cut to the open air, crosses that allowed the castle's
archers a vertical and horizontal field of fire.
While the beginning of the passage to
this "other reality" started in the narrow space beneath John's
stairs -- and a cramped space it was, packed with three people and
a Van de Graaff generator! -- this was the other end: an
age-darkened, corner turret soaring above the walls of Hero
Castle.
John found himself shivering, his robe
warm enough for the moderate climate of Stil-de-grain, but
inadequate in the chill of this stony room.
Letting Ellen recover at her own pace,
John turned to Platinia. "Scout ahead. Carefully. I want to know if
there are soldiers in the castle and from what Band. See if you can
find out if Pfnaravin is still here and if he's planned any nasty
surprises for my return." The girl nodded. "We also need something
local for Ellen to wear. Robe. Shoes. Can you get those items?" She
nodded again. "Come back as soon as you can."
And she was off, padding over the
slippery floor to disappear down the tunnel that was the room's
sole access.
Nothing to do but await Platinia's
return. Belonging in this Band more than John ever would, the girl
knew the crooks and byways of the castle.
Opposite the chamber's arched exit was
the stone table, benches flanking it; also the secret hiding place
in the wall, cap stones disguising it. He'd found that secret vault
on his last trip; knew where to look because of Platinia's
knowledge of the cranny's existence. If no one else had stumbled on
to it, the wall safe should contain the book of magic he'd found in
there. At least Platinia thought it was a magic book, its writing
so "spider fine" as to be undecipherable.
To John's left was the spot where roof
stones had crushed the Band's Mage, John picking up Melcor's
Crystal, making John -- though he didn't know it at the time --
Stil-de-grain's new Crystal-Mage.
Time to hide the Van de
graaff.
Striding to the far wall, feeling
strong because freed from most of the pull of his own world, John
pried back the stones that concealed the hiding palce, the blocks
coming out smoothly, swinging to one side.
With no time to take a second look at
the book, John eased the generator into the hole, then swung the
stone cover back in place. Above all, he must protect the static
electric generator. It was his ticket home.
On his last two trips, he'd traveled
to the inner bands of Malachite and Azare. Had felt heavier, and
heavier still, because going "inward" in this ringed world gave you
more gravitational pull. He'd also been to the band called Realgar,
just to the outside of Stil-de-grain, finding Realgar's gravity
noticeably lighter. He'd not been to Cinnabar, Cinnabar the outer
rim of this "other reality." From the rumors he'd heard about "The
Cinnabar," John wondered if there was so little gravity there he'd
float off the ground. Had no way of knowing, of course, few
claiming to have gone to that mystic place.
Still waiting for Platinia to return
and for Ellen to come out of what could best be called a
trans-world stupor, John had time to reflect on the frantic
half-hour preceding the static electric leap to
Bandworld.
First, there was getting Platinia and
himself dressed in the costumes of Stil-de-grain. Then
Platinia's robes to the Laundromat earlier in the week.
He had money -- what passed for money
in the bands of this world: flat, slugs of silver and gold, no
pictures or writing on them. Coins that were still in the pockets
he'd had stitched into his robe before the last transfer, pockets
not yet a part of Bandworld apparel.
The ceiling soared over him,
punctuated by the irregular spot of golden sky lancing through the
section of collapsed roof to light a patch of sodden floor. Good!
The time of day was what the natives called full light -- daytime
-- light-magic the universal translator of tongues.
Somber, stone-block walls circled the
room, wedge shaped indentations in them through which arrow slits
had been cut to the open air, crosses that allowed the castle's
archers a vertical and horizontal field of fire.
While the beginning of the passage to
this "other reality" started in the narrow space beneath John's
stairs -- and a cramped space it was, packed with three people and
a Van de Graaff generator! -- this was the other end: an
age-darkened, corner turret soaring above the walls of Hero
Castle.
John found himself shivering, his robe
warm enough for the moderate climate of Stil-de-grain, but
inadequate in the chill of this stony room.
Letting Ellen recover at her own pace,
John turned to Platinia. "Scout ahead. Carefully. I want to know if
there are soldiers in the castle and from what Band. See if you can
find out if Pfnaravin is still here and if he's planned any nasty
surprises for my return." The girl nodded. "We also need something
local for Ellen to wear. Robe. Shoes. Can you get those items?" She
nodded again. "Come back as soon as you can."
And she was off, padding over the
slippery floor to disappear down the tunnel that was the room's
sole access.
Nothing to do but await Platinia's
return. Belonging in this Band more than John ever would, the girl
knew the crooks and byways of the castle.
Opposite the chamber's arched exit was
the stone table, benches flanking it; also the secret hiding place
in the wall, cap stones disguising it. He'd found that secret vault
on his last trip; knew where to look because of Platinia's
knowledge of the cranny's existence. If no one else had stumbled on
to it, the wall safe should contain the book of magic he'd found in
there. At least Platinia thought it was a magic book, its writing
so "spider fine" as to be undecipherable.
To John's left was the spot where roof
stones had crushed the Band's Mage, John picking up Melcor's
Crystal, making John -- though he didn't know it at the time --
Stil-de-grain's new Crystal-Mage.
Time to hide the Van de
graaff.
Striding to the far wall, feeling
strong because freed from most of the pull of his own world, John
pried back the stones that concealed the hiding palce, the blocks
coming out smoothly, swinging to one side.
With no time to take a second look at
the book, John eased the generator into the hole, then swung the
stone cover back in place. Above all, he must protect the static
electric generator. It was his ticket home.
On his last two trips, he'd traveled
to the inner bands of Malachite and Azare. Had felt heavier, and
heavier still, because going "inward" in this ringed world gave you
more gravitational pull. He'd also been to the band called Realgar,
just to the outside of Stil-de-grain, finding Realgar's gravity
noticeably lighter. He'd not been to Cinnabar, Cinnabar the outer
rim of this "other reality." From the rumors he'd heard about "The
Cinnabar," John wondered if there was so little gravity there he'd
float off the ground. Had no way of knowing, of course, few
claiming to have gone to that mystic place.
Still waiting for Platinia to return
and for Ellen to come out of what could best be called a
trans-world stupor, John had time to reflect on the frantic
half-hour preceding the static electric leap to
Bandworld.
First, there was getting Platinia and
himself dressed in the costumes of Stil-de-grain. Then
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