Robert Charrette - Arthur 03 - A Knight Among Knaves by Robert N. Charrette Page A
Book: Robert Charrette - Arthur 03 - A Knight Among Knaves by Robert N. Charrette
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Authors: Robert N. Charrette
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but the government had a lot to hide. Didn't he know it?
A ship as big and serene as Wisteria still had its share of noises. Carlos was used to most of them, so he dismissed the first few scrapes and bumps. Then he began to wonder if the captain's storm had arrived. He ordered the computer to re-polarize the viewports, bringing them to transparency. There was no storm outside. He darkened the windows again and went back to Lauder's report.
A sound, like someone rubbing a handful of gravel on the cabin's outer wall, intruded on his concentration. He realized that he was shivering. The room was colder. Definitely colder, but not so cold as to make him shiver. So why was he shivering?
Something scratched briefly against the door to the corridor. A light sound, barely audible. Probably just his imagination. The cold was not his imagination.
"Computer, is there something wrong with the heater?"
"System normal," the machine reported.
"What about the temperature?"
"Temperature within normal parameters."
How could that be? Carlos was shivering; it was cold. There was no point in trying to order a temperature increase; only the captain could do that. There had to be something wrong with the heating system or with the computer monitor. Much more likely the monitor. Computers always sounded so sure of themselves, especially when they were fritzed.
That was it. The computer must be fritzed. He'd call Salmon and get him to take a look at it.
Something moved at the corner of his vision. He turned his head, looking for it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He had seen something, hadn't he?
A thump behind him made him turn. One of the captain's books, which had been on the table, now lay on the floor. Carlos was the only one in the room.
Wasn't he?
A dark, viscous thing, like a snake made out of the very stuff of the night, slithered out from beneath Carlos's chair and wrapped itself around his ankle. His skin burned with a cold so intense that his skin blistered. He screamed.
Belief in the unnatural had its downsides. He knew this was no nightmare—knew it with a certainty that nearly froze his heart—and he knew he could not explain away this monster from the other side that had come to steal his soul.
He couldn't move. As much as he wanted to tear the thing away from himself, he could not. His muscles were solid ice. All he could do was scream. No words, just terror. Carlos screamed and screamed again as the night serpent crawled up his leg. His screams stopped only when the awful thing forced his mouth open and slithered down his throat, and his awareness perished.
CHAPTER
9
The passage of time in the otherworld was hard to gauge. John had yet to see a daytime sky. The stars seemed eternal. Yet he knew that time passed because occasionally he felt hungry, and more occasionally he felt tired enough to sleep. Other than the cues his body gave him and the fact that he was progressing with his lessons, however, there was no hint that the moment was anything other than constant. Trying to figure out the passage of time became less and less important; he had other things on his mind, like magic.
Bennett had kept his promise that John would learn magic, placing him under the tutelage of Shahotain and others. John was learning how to touch and control the energies he had sensed for so long. And learning quickly—because he was in the otherworld, where the magic was stronger? Or because his elven tutors were better magicians, or maybe better teachers, than Dr. Spae? He wasn't sure. It really didn't matter; the important thing was that he was getting better at understanding and controlling real magic. Even more important, he was beginning to understand how much magic had to do with being an elf. Magic, he knew now, was a part of his heritage, a hole in his life that he hadn't known existed was being filled. With each lesson John grew more amazed that he had survived without being able to touch the magic.
It was a whole new
A ship as big and serene as Wisteria still had its share of noises. Carlos was used to most of them, so he dismissed the first few scrapes and bumps. Then he began to wonder if the captain's storm had arrived. He ordered the computer to re-polarize the viewports, bringing them to transparency. There was no storm outside. He darkened the windows again and went back to Lauder's report.
A sound, like someone rubbing a handful of gravel on the cabin's outer wall, intruded on his concentration. He realized that he was shivering. The room was colder. Definitely colder, but not so cold as to make him shiver. So why was he shivering?
Something scratched briefly against the door to the corridor. A light sound, barely audible. Probably just his imagination. The cold was not his imagination.
"Computer, is there something wrong with the heater?"
"System normal," the machine reported.
"What about the temperature?"
"Temperature within normal parameters."
How could that be? Carlos was shivering; it was cold. There was no point in trying to order a temperature increase; only the captain could do that. There had to be something wrong with the heating system or with the computer monitor. Much more likely the monitor. Computers always sounded so sure of themselves, especially when they were fritzed.
That was it. The computer must be fritzed. He'd call Salmon and get him to take a look at it.
Something moved at the corner of his vision. He turned his head, looking for it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He had seen something, hadn't he?
A thump behind him made him turn. One of the captain's books, which had been on the table, now lay on the floor. Carlos was the only one in the room.
Wasn't he?
A dark, viscous thing, like a snake made out of the very stuff of the night, slithered out from beneath Carlos's chair and wrapped itself around his ankle. His skin burned with a cold so intense that his skin blistered. He screamed.
Belief in the unnatural had its downsides. He knew this was no nightmare—knew it with a certainty that nearly froze his heart—and he knew he could not explain away this monster from the other side that had come to steal his soul.
He couldn't move. As much as he wanted to tear the thing away from himself, he could not. His muscles were solid ice. All he could do was scream. No words, just terror. Carlos screamed and screamed again as the night serpent crawled up his leg. His screams stopped only when the awful thing forced his mouth open and slithered down his throat, and his awareness perished.
CHAPTER
9
The passage of time in the otherworld was hard to gauge. John had yet to see a daytime sky. The stars seemed eternal. Yet he knew that time passed because occasionally he felt hungry, and more occasionally he felt tired enough to sleep. Other than the cues his body gave him and the fact that he was progressing with his lessons, however, there was no hint that the moment was anything other than constant. Trying to figure out the passage of time became less and less important; he had other things on his mind, like magic.
Bennett had kept his promise that John would learn magic, placing him under the tutelage of Shahotain and others. John was learning how to touch and control the energies he had sensed for so long. And learning quickly—because he was in the otherworld, where the magic was stronger? Or because his elven tutors were better magicians, or maybe better teachers, than Dr. Spae? He wasn't sure. It really didn't matter; the important thing was that he was getting better at understanding and controlling real magic. Even more important, he was beginning to understand how much magic had to do with being an elf. Magic, he knew now, was a part of his heritage, a hole in his life that he hadn't known existed was being filled. With each lesson John grew more amazed that he had survived without being able to touch the magic.
It was a whole new
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