Castle for Rent by John Dechancie Page B

hurry."
    â€œStairs?"
    â€œNo, something faster!"
    â€œWhat? I can't think of anything that wouldn't be mechanical, like an elevator or something."
    Grunting sounds came from the left, then, after a moment, from behind.
    â€œThink!” Gene whispered hoarsely.
    Linda closed her eyes. A soft popping sound came from behind Gene, and he turned to look. A neatly cut hole had appeared in the stone floor. A shiny brass pipe, about three inches in diameter, ran from the ceiling down through the hole.
    â€œA firehouse pole?” Gene shrugged. “Hey, why not? Let's go."
    Gene was first. He slid out of sight quickly, and Linda followed.
    â€œLet's go, little girl,” Snowclaw urged gently.
    Sheila leaned out, grabbed the pole, and jumped, locking her legs around the slippery brass shaft. The drop was heart-stoppingly fast, and only frantic contractions of her leg muscles finally slowed her. Despite her best efforts, she landed hard on her buttocks.
    Gene dragged her up. “Again,” he ordered Linda.
    â€œAgain?"
    â€œDown another floor. Can't you hear them up there?"
    Linda whipped up another pole as Snowclaw dropped down and corroborated, “They're coming!"
    They all slipped down the new fire pole. This time Sheila was determined to land on her feet, and she did.
    â€œAgain,” Gene said.
    They dropped four levels in all before Gene realized it was useless.
    â€œThey're simply following us down,” he said. “We're just not thinking, gang."
    Linda said, “Then we're sunk. I can't make things disappear.” She blinked, then smiled. “But I can make a ladder!"
    The hole appeared, as before, but this time a wooden ladder angled up from it. They clambered down one by one. On the lower level. Gene and Snowclaw slid the bottom of the ladder across the flagstone until the upper end slipped out of the hole above. The ladder clattered to the floor.
    They repeated this procedure three more times before coming to a quiet level.
    Gene looked up. “Linda, I want you to conjure a sort of thing that looks like a drain stopper, but made out of heavy stone, one just big enough to plug that hole up there."
    â€œA drain stopper?"
    â€œImagine a big heavy thing like a stone mushroom, with the stem plugging the hole."
    â€œGot you."
    The bottom of the plug fit neatly flush with the ceiling.
    â€œGood job. I don't think they'll be able to lift that thing very easily."
    â€œGreat idea, Gene,” Linda said.
    â€œShould have come up with it sooner. But when you're on the run, it's hard to be creative."
    â€œMan, you gotta think fast in this place!” Sheila said breathlessly.
    â€œEven more so, down here,” Gene told her. “Stay close, and watch your step."
    â€œWhat's down here?"
    â€œExpect the unexpected."
    â€œLike ... what, exactly?"
    Bright daylight flooded the corridor. Sheila whirled and beheld what looked at first like a movie screen, except that the images were three-dimensional. Then her mind made the connection that this was some sort of opening that had suddenly appeared. Through the rectangular portal lay a short expanse of white beach, leading to foaming breakers. The surf was close, very close. In fact...
    â€œYou better get back, Sheila,” Gene said.
    She watched, transfixed, as a swell rose up, rode in, and broke very near the opening. Sheila squealed and backstepped as the surf foamed through the portal and across the floor, slopping over her shoes.
    She squished down the corridor to where the others had sought dry floor. They were smiling at her.
    â€œI see what you mean,” Sheila said.
    â€œIs that your first wild aspect?” Gene asked. “Strange, isn't it? The aspects you see through the windows aren't so startling. You look out and see weird things, but somehow, the window comfortably frames it. But when you see an aspect pop out of nowhere like that—"
    â€œIt kind of blows your mind,” Sheila said,