Too Many Curses (4 page)

The corporeal ghost found a chair. Approaching disaster
gave her a solidity few spirits could enjoy, albeit temporarily.

"So what brings you here?" asked Nessy.

"Your soup. You're going to put too much salt in it." Her hair whipped upward like flame shooting from her head. "Terrribbblyyyyyy Sssaaaaltyyyyyyyyyyyyy," she keened.

"That's your disaster?" Dan laughed. "Salty soup?"

"Not just salty. Terribly salty." She stood and moaned. Ice formed on the walls. "Dreaaaaaddfuuuuullyyyyy terribbbb—"

Nessy interrupted. "Yes, thank you."

"Where were you when Margle was getting chewed?" asked Dan. "Could've used a warning then, I bet ol' Margle could."

Bethany scowled. "Distasteful cad."

"True, I have my quirks, true. But I know a thing or two about Margle, about Margle's castle. Because I listen, and I hear the castle. The walls, they share secrets with ol' Dan."

"You're mad."

"Mad as a skull on a spice rack. But I can tell you things a banshee should already know." He opened his jaws wide, chuckled on for a moment before snapping them shut. The kitchen was silent except for the sounds of Nessy and Mister Bones mincing vegetables.

"Like what, you demented bone?" asked Bethany.

"Oh, things."

"You don't know anything."

"Ol' Dan knows too much. Why do you think I'm mad?"

"Well then tell us."

"What I know, it's for Nessy's ears. It's a warning beyond culinary cataclysm. You don't get to hear it."

"You mad bas . . ." Bethany began to fade as her solidity left her. "Oh damn. Don't forget, Nessy. Saaaaaaaltyyyyyyy souuuuuuuuuup!" And she returned to the ether.

Decapitated Dan scowled. "Thought she'd never leave."

Nessy allowed Mister Bones to chop the rest of the vegetables as she bit off chunks of chicken flesh and spat them into the pot.

"Well, don't you want to hear what ol' Dan has to say?"

"Not really." She nibbled on a bone before stirring it in the bubbling water.

The skull frowned. "That's not right. Here I sit with only boring Mister Bones to keep me company. But I don't complain, I don't. Only the pleasantest of gents, that's what I am. And I want to help you because once you hear what ol' Dan has to say, you'll be glad you did, you will be."

She decided he had a point. Certainly, he had been a villain and still was, but he was paying for his misdeeds, even beyond his own death. She saw no harm in lending a sympathetic ear while waiting for her dinner.

"Very well."

"Sweet, sweet Nessy. I've always liked you. Sorely will I regret strangling the life from you once me and Mister
Bones make amends." He chuckled. "Not too sorely, mind you, but with some contrition."

The nurgax growled. Nessy noticed it didn't respond well to threats against her. She rubbed its snout, and the beast quieted. Though it kept its eye on Dan.

"Margle isn't dead, but you already know that, don't you, Nessy? If he were well and truly gone, beyond the hope of likely resurrection, then some of his sorcerous ilk would have arrived by now to commence their scavenging of his estate. That not a single scavenging sorcerer or covetous enchantress has yet to appear shows that Margle, though certainly devoured, is not dead enough that any have sensed it yet. A mixed blessing, I suppose, protecting this castle from his plundering ilk while Margle waits to return from death's sweet affections.

"Nope, can't kill a wizard in his own home. Ol' Dan can hear him grumbling in the bricks. Only a matter of time before he comes back, but right now, the castle, it doesn't want him alive, no it doesn't. It likes him dead. With him dead-but-not-quite-dead there's nothing to keep it from doing the bad things it wants to do. And the things, they are terrible. Terrible enough to make even me tremble." He demonstrated by waggling his jaw. "It's an evil castle, it is."

Mister Bones ladled out some soup for Nessy to sample.

"Needs salt."

The skeleton retrieved the spice.

"Careful," she reminded him.

He rapped the stove twice in acknowledgment.

"But it is also a good castle," said Dan. "Good because sweet, sweet Nessy has shown it such care and love. Like ol' Mister Bones. And that goody goodness, that likes Margle dead, too. About the only thing the good and the evil agree on is that. Poor ol' Margle. None truly liked him. All that power and not a true friend to his name. Could almost make me weep, if I were able.

"Now the castle is like me and Mister Bones. Two halves of one whole. One half ever so delightfully wicked, the other so utterly, completely, absolutely dull in its goody goodness. And like me and Mister Bones, there will come a reconciliation. The question is which will be the conqueror, that's the question." He smiled, and if he'd had eyebrows, surely they would've bent low and cast darkness over his eyes. "No question there. Truth is, wickedness always wins. Ol' Dan will have my body back one day, and the castle, oh the castle, shall have its depravity. And ol' Margle, well, who's to say?"

Mister Bones brought Nessy a bowl of soup. She lifted the spoon to her lips, but before she could taste it, Dan spoke.

"Wait, you didn't let me get to the best part, sweet Nessy. I got a prophecy, I do. Not so much a prophecy as a way things are going to happen, must happen because things always happen as they must. I know because the castle knows. Four things shall occur, perhaps not in this order,
mind you. Perhaps the first shall be last, and the last shall be first. Perhaps the second shall be—"

Even Nessy's patience had an end. "What are they, Dan?"

He shouted the first three. "The castle will devour us all. The dead shall fear, as only the dead shall have need of the fear. Ol' Dan and Mister Bones will be the greatest of friends again." His voice lowered to a whisper. "And The Door At The End Of The Hall will finally open." He laughed loud and hard for a very long time until Mister Bones clamped a hand atop the skull. "Here now, here now," Dan grunted through clenched teeth. "Allow a madman his madness. It's only right."

Nessy took a sip of her soup, rolling it around on her tongue.

"How is it?" asked Dan.

Her ears flattened. "A little salty."

Kobolds were cave dwellers. They lived in dark and dreary places, and Margle's castle was generally a dreary place. There were precious few windows, and only one door leading out. This door was always barred, as Margle never used it, and Nessy couldn't remember the last time she'd been out. She had trouble remembering what the castle even looked like from outside. It was impossible to see much of it from the windows, few of which had been designed with a view in mind.

Her mental map of her home's interior told her that, though the castle was big, its layout wasn't strictly bound by the sensibilities of space. Hallways crossed through other hallways, yet never actually met, and doors led into different rooms in the same spot. It was all fairly standard as magical castles went, but it made an accurate measure of its dimensions difficult to determine.

Nessy, preferring to be surrounded by stone, found the open sky to be a most disconcerting sight. Without a roof over her head, she couldn't help but constantly glance upward for fear of being struck by something falling from the heavens. Whether it be meteorites or rain, lightning or bird droppings, it didn't seem worth the risk.

It was a known fact that kobolds had a tendency to be crushed beyond mere statistical peculiarity. Kobolds didn't have a god of their own, and without that, they were fair game for any angry, frustrated, or bored deity looking to smite someone for whatever reason gods might enjoy. It was accepted among Nessy's people that the residents of the heavens kept a tally of every kobold thus smote, and at the end of time, the god with the highest score would receive some sort of prize, perhaps a cloak of invisibility or flying sandals or some such divine novelty. Sensibly, Nessy never quite believed this. But she didn't disbelieve it, either. Not after seeing her uncle squashed beneath a falling ox under an otherwise perfectly clear sky.

After that, she rarely ventured outside except by dimmest night or heavy clouds or darting from tree to tree. It was only after coming to Margle's castle that she discovered the joys of a sunny day or a shining full moon. Dark wizards kept close watch on the heavens, and the castle had an observatory atop one of its smaller towers with a large window that always followed the sun and moon. It was a quiet chamber with a small fountain, a comfortable
bench, and ivy-covered walls. For Nessy, it was the perfect place to enjoy a view of the clear sky. And the sturdy roof provided ample protection from any plummeting ruminants.

It was early evening when she came up to the observatory with a tome of magic tucked under her arm. The nurgax followed, carrying Yazpib the Magnificent's jar in his gentle jaws.

The purple-and-white flowers blooming on the walls turned in Nessy's direction. "Good eve to you, pup."

"Hello, Ivy. My condolences for your loss." Nessy lowered her ears and tail and offered a sympathetic whine.

Perhaps the most obvious sign of Margle's evil was his metamorphosis of his own mother. Over the course of years, he'd transformed her into a shrew, a nag, a cow, a harpy, and an old bitch. Finally he abandoned poetic expression and just made her a mass of clinging vines.

"Not as if I cared for the little bastard," Ivy growled. "And he was a bastard, you know. Just as worthless as his worthless bastard father. Never should've agreed to let him apprentice to that necromancer. But I needed the money. Oh, how difficult it was for me. Raising two boys all by myself. What choice did I have? All that hard work, all that sacrifice, and this is my reward. Hope he rots."

Her comments saddened Nessy. Everyone, no matter how wicked, was due one mourner at the very least.

She went to the window and allowed herself a few minutes
to enjoy the view. The grassy fields went as far as the eye could see. A lonely tree stood atop the hill on the horizon. During the day, the yellowed plains were nothing to look at, but at night, the grass took on a soft blue color, the stars twinkled, and the bright moon seemed close enough to touch.

Margle had brought her this. She raised her head and howled for her dead master. In the yowls and yelps of her native tongue, she sang out Margle's praises. It was a very short howl so she repeated it twice more. Ears cocked forward, she listened to the countryside far below. In the distance, a wolf echoed the depressing call. Perhaps somewhere farther away, another continued the song. On this night, the whole world might mourn Margle one howl at a time. That notion brought a smile to Nessy's muzzle.

"That was beautiful," said Yazpib.

"You speak Kobold?"

"A little. He didn't deserve such an honor."

"Since when does anyone get what they deserve?"

"Oh how true," lamented Ivy. "How true indeed."

Yazpib chuckled. His liquid bubbled. "You have the soul of a philosopher, Nessy."

Ivy continued to moan. "I gave and I gave, everything I had, and then I gave some more until I had nothing left to give. If anything, I should be sainted."

"Yes, yes, mother," said Yazpib. "Now if you'll quiet down, Nessy and I would like to begin our lesson."

"Oh what a terrible thing, telling your own mother to shut up."

"I didn't say—"

"No, no. I'll be quiet. I'll just sit here and grow." Her flowers drooped. "Quietly."

Yazpib sighed.

"Won't hear another word from me. Not another word. Heavens know we mothers must always suffer in silence, always put aside our own needs for our loved ones. And here I am, grieving. But I'll just grieve silently."

"Mother, you hated Margle. You always hated him. And he hated you, as I think would be evident by your condition."

"How dare you! The bond between a mother and child is sacred."

He whispered to Nessy, "Why did my brother have to leave her the power of speech? If anyone should be stricken with a curse of eternal silence . . ."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mother."

She grumbled. "Whispering before your own mother. I would box your ears if I could."

Yazpib's eyes bobbed and rolled. "Lucky for me my beloved brother took my ears."

"Such disrespect. Where did I go wrong?"

"Oh shut up, Mom."

Ivy didn't shut up, but she did resort to mumbling about
her mistreatment. No one listened, and this only confirmed how appalling her fate was.

"Now, Nessy," said Yazpib, "open your book to the first chapter."

Sir Thedeus flew into the room and perched on Nessy's shoulder. "Did I miss anything?"

"Just getting started. We'll need a potato."

A multitude of vegetables and fruits grew on Ivy's enchanted vines. Nessy picked a plump potato.

"What are ye doing with that?" asked Sir Thedeus.

"We're going to see if Nessy can levitate it."

The bat hopped onto the jar's edge. "Are ye an idiot? What good does levitating a potato do anyone? Ye should be teaching her to break curses."

Yazpib boiled. "In due time. But Margle's magic is potent stuff. She can't just learn to undo it in her first lesson."

"Ach, fine, but a potato?"

"It just so happens that the potato is the most magically benign vegetable there is. The first three years of my apprenticeship, potatoes were all I was allowed to work with. And I turned out a perfectly fine wizard."

"Yer a brain in a jar."

"I suppose you think you'd do a better job teaching Nessy. And just how much magic do you know?"

Sir Thedeus snarled and tried to stare Yazpib down. Since Yazpib lacked eyelids, the bat predictably lost. "Maybe
she can start working with carrots in a month or two. Won't that be something?"

Yazpib's teeth twisted in a frown. "You don't let an apprentice anywhere near a carrot. Nastiest buggers of the vegetable kingdom. Levitating a carrot without some experience under your belt is the surest way to lose an eye."

"Can we get on with the lesson, please?" asked Nessy. "I have some sweeping that needs to be done."

"Of course. If you would open your book to Chapter One: Your Enchanting Potato."