«I can't get over the variety of magic going on in here,» Keff whispered, toying with a soufflГ© that all but defied gravity.
«If it was really magic, they could magic up what you wanted to eat and not just what they want you to have. As for the rest, you know what I think.»
«Well, the food is perfect,» Keff said stubbornly. «No burnt spots, no failed sauces, no gristle. That sounds like magic.»
«Oh, maybe its food-synths instead,» Carialle countered. «If I was working for Chaumel, I'd be terrified of making mistakes and ruining the food. Wouldn't you?»
Keff sighed. «At least I still have my aliens.»
«Enough of this tittle-tattle,» Chaumel called out, rising. He clapped his hands. The assemblage craned their necks to look at him. «A little entertainment, my friends?» He brought his hands together again.
Between Nokias and Ferngal, a fur-skinned tumbler appeared halfway through a back flip and bounded into the center of the room. Keff's chair automatically backed up until it was between two others, leaving the middle of the circle open. A narrow cable suspended from the ceiling came into being. On it, a male and a female hung ankle to ankle ten meters above the ground. Starting slowly, they revolved faster until they were spinning flat out, parallel to the floor. There was a patter of insincere applause. The rope and acrobats vanished, and the tumbler leaped into the air, turned a double somersault, and landed on one hand. A small animal with an ornamented collar appeared standing on his upturned feet. It did flips on its perch, as the male boosted it into the air with thrusts of his powerful legs. Omri yawned. The male and his pet disappeared to make room for a whole troupe of juvenile tumblers.
Keff heard a gush of wind from the open windows. The night air blew a cloud of dust over the luminescent parapet, but it never reached the open door. Chaumel flashed his wand across in a warding gesture. The dust beat itself against a bellying, invisible barrier and fell to the floor.
«Was that part of the entertainment?» Keff said subvocally.
«Another one of those power drains,» Carialle said. «Somehow, what they do sucks all the energy, all the cohesive force out of the surrounding ecology. The air outside of Chaumel's little mountain nest is dead, clear to where I am.»
«Magic doesn't have to come from somewhere,» Keff said.
«Keff, physics! Power is leaching toward your location. Therefore logic suggests it is being drawn in that direction by need.»
«Magic doesn't depend on physics. But I concede your point.»
«It's true whether or not you believe in it. The concentrated force-fields are weakening everywhere but there.»
«Any chance it weakened enough to let you go?»
There was a slight pause. «No.»
A prestidigitator and his slender, golden-furred assistant suddenly appeared in midair, floating down toward the floor while performing difficult sleight-of-hand involving fire and silk cloths. They held up hoops, and acrobats bounded out of the walls to fly through them. More acrobats materialized to catch the flyers, then disappeared as soon as they were safely down. Keff watched in fascination, admiring the dramatic timing. Apparently, the spectacle failed to maintain the interest of the other guests. His chair jerked roughly forward toward Lacia, nearly ramming him through the back. The acrobats had to leap swiftly to one side to avoid being run over.
«You are a spy for a faction on the other side of Ozran, aren't you?» she demanded.
«There aren't any other factions on Ozran, madam,» Keff said. «I scanned from space. All habitations are limited to this continent in the northern hemisphere and the archipelago to the southwest.»
«You must have come from one of them, then,» she said. «Whose spy are you?»
Just like that, the interrogation began all over again. Instead of letting him have time to answer their demands, they seemed to be vying with one another to escalate their accusations of what they suspected him of doing on Ozran. Potria, still angry, didn't bother to speak to him, but occasionally snatched him away from another magifolk just for the pleasure of seeing his gasping discomfort. Asedow joined in the game, tugging Keff away from his rival. Chaumel, too, decided to assert his authority as curator of the curiosity, pulling him away from other magifolk to prevent him answering their questions. In the turmoil, Keff spun around faster and faster, growing more irked by the moment at the magi using him as a pawn. He kept his hands clamped to his chair arms, his teeth gritted tightly as he strove to keep from being sick. Their voices chattered and shrilled like a flock of birds.
«Who are you . . .?»
«I demand to know . . .!»
«What are you . . .?»
«Tell me . . .»
«How do . . .?»
«Why . . .?»
«What . . .?»
Fed up at last, Keff shouted at the featureless mass of color. «Enough of this boorish interrogation. I'm not playing anymore!»
Heedless of the speed at which he was spinning, he pushed away his tray, stepped out from the footrest, and went down, down, down . . .
Chapter Nine
Keff fell down and down toward a dark abyss. Frigid winds screamed upward, freezing his face and his hands, which were thrust above his head by his descent. The horizontal blur that was the faces and costumes of the magifolk was replaced by a vertical blur of gray and black and tan. He was falling through a narrow tunnel of rough stone occasionally lit by streaks of garishly colored light. His hands grasped out at nothing; his feet sought for support and found none.
Gargoyle faces leered at him, gibbering. Flying creatures with dozens of clawed feet swooped down to worry his hair and shoulders. Momentum snapped his head back so he was staring up at a point of light far, far above him that swayed with every one of his heartbeats. The movement made him giddy. His stomach squeezed hard against his rib cage. He was in danger of losing what little he had been able to eat. The wind bit at his ears, and his teeth chattered. He forced his mouth closed, sought for control.
«Carialle, help! I'm falling! Where am I?»
The brain's tone was puzzled.
«You haven't moved at all, Keff. You're still in the middle of Chaumel's dining room. Everyone is watching you, and having a good time, I might add. Er, you're staring at the ceiling.»
Keff tried to justify her observation with the terrifying sensation of falling, the close stone walls, and the gargoyles, and suddenly all fear fled. He was furious. The abyss was an illusion! It was all an illusion cast to punish him. Damn their manipulation!
«That is enough of this nonsense!» he bellowed.
Abruptly, all sensation stopped. The buzzing he suddenly felt through his feet bothered him, so he moved, and found himself lurching about on the slick floor, struggling for balance. With a yelp, he tripped forward, painfully bruising his palms and knees. He blinked energetically, and the points of light around him became ensconced torches, and the pale oval Plennafrey's face. She looked concerned. Keff guessed that she was the one who had broken the spell holding his mind enthralled.
«Thank you,» he said. His voice sounded hollow in his own ears. He sat back on his haunches and gathered himself to stand up.
He became aware that the other magifolk were glaring at the young woman. Chaumel was angry, Nokias shocked, Potria mute with outrage. Plenna lifted her small chin and stared back unflinchingly at her superiors. Keff wondered how he had ever thought her to be weak. She was magnificent.