Castle Kidnapped by John Dechancie

worse around here,” Linda fretted. “I'm going to see what I can do back at Halfway. Maybe Trent and Sheila went out to lunch and just forgot to tell us. Jeremy, you better come with me."
    â€œRight,” Jeremy said, snapping the computer's carrying case shut. He sure as hell didn't want to stay here. But there was a problem.
    As far as he could see, there was no place to run to.
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    King's Study
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    â€œ...FIVE ... FOUR ... THREE ... two ... one."
    On a wooden table in the middle of the chamber, there appeared a strange, feathery glob of golden light. Shifting and shimmering, it neither took shape nor attained substance, but somehow suggested the form of a bird.
    Incarnadine approached the phenomenon. Extending his hand, he gently lifted the thing. Actually, “guided it” would be the more accurate description, for the phenomenon seemed somewhat capable of movement.
    He moved to a table on which sat a personal computer.
    â€œReduce to data,” was his command to the thing he bore.
    The luminous blob vanished with a flash. The screen of the computer suddenly came to life with a golden snowstorm of numbers and symbols.
    He seated himself and studied these, occasionally entering commands on the computer's keyboard.
    At long last, he sighed and sat back. He waved his hand, and the golden smear of light exited from the back of the computer. It hovered before him.
    â€œI release you,” he said.
    The phenomenon brightened, fluttering and pulsing.
    â€œGo on, beat it."
    The light shot off, darting about the room in a frenzy of rediscovered freedom. It bounced off the walls, did an Immelmann turn, then rocketed ceilingward and continued straight through the stone, disappearing.
    He rose and crossed the room. Against a far wall stood a collection of strange contraptions, some of them resembling grandfather clocks. He consulted the dials on a number of these, his brow knitting as he did so.
    â€œDamn. What in the name of all the gods do they think they're doing?"
    He shook his head, peering at more meters and gauges.
    â€œStrange, strange,” he murmured, recrossing to the desk.
    He entered some commands and punched Return. The screen swam with blurred images. He waved his hands and chanted something in an exotic tongue.
    Annoyed, he banged a fist on the top of the device. “Drat. What's wrong now?"
    He tried different commands, to no avail.
    â€œTrent? Trent, can you hear me? Come in."
    The screen was devoid of anything recognizable. Then a garbled voice could be heard.
    â€œ...Inky?... you?"
    â€œTrent!” he answered. “Speak up! I'm having trouble receiving you."
    More unidentifiable noise, clearing up for a second or two. “... trouble ... the hell this is, but it's ... get us out? ... "
    He waited, but there was no more.
    â€œGoing to have to do this the old-fashioned way,” he complained.
    The old-fashioned way turned out to be a large crystal globe sitting on a table in a far corner of the cluttered room. The thing was covered with dust, so he took a chamois cloth to it and soon had it acceptably clear.
    He closed his eyes, then opened them suddenly. “Damned if I haven't forgot the riffs. Ye gods..."
    After rummaging through stacks of old books, he finally discovered the one he wanted, then found out it wasn't. More rummaging, and much annoyed throwing of things.
    He chuckled. “I'm losing my grip. Here it is."
    The right tome, the right passage, the right incantation. He read through it, moving his lips.
    He slammed the book closed. “That's it.” As he passed the desktop computer, he shook his head ruefully at it. “Technology. Makes a cripple of you, it does."
    Standing once again before the crystal globe, he struck a proper wizardly pose arms wide, thumbs and first fingers touching. He commenced a monotonous chanting.
    Again, he stopped.
    â€œNo, not Trent,” he decided.
    He resumed his stance and the