The Warlock Insane Read online

  "Yes—and the world does seem to be picking on me at the moment. I'm clear-headed enough, just now, to realize that's only my perception—but when the emotions take over, I forget."

  "Of course, Rod. If you did not believe your perceptions to be true, you would not be paranoid."

  "How's that again?" Rod frowned down at the back of the horsehead, then shook his head. "No, don't tell me. I'm happier in my ignorance. Or do you mean that if I weren't paranoid, I would doubt my perceptions—at least, when it seems as though everything's out to get me?"

  "That is the converse of the proposition," Fess agreed.

  "Glad I got it right," Rod responded. "But the main question is still there, Fess—how come I'm having spells of paranoia, all of a sudden?''

  "They are not totally new to you, Rod," the robot said slowly.

  "Thank you for your tact, Mr. Hammer. But I don't usually have such intense feelings of persecution, with such total certainty that I'm right."

  "That is new, fortunately—and, since it was accompanied by the beginning of hallucinations, I can only conjecture that…"

  "It's a chemical problem, yeah. But, Fess—is the chemical imbalance generated in me, or brought in from the outside world?"

  "Whatever its source, Rod, it is in you now."

  "Much more of this, and you'll have me believing it," Rod grumbled.

  "That would definitely be a more desirable condition," the robot mused.

  "All right, so we'll go with the working hypothesis that what I see isn't real," Rod grumbled. "But how am I supposed to know what's real and what isn't?"

  "Of more immediate concern, perhaps," Fess said slowly, "is: when does it truly matter?"

  Rod sighed as horse and man headed deeper into the forest.

  Chapter Three

  Sometime later, Rod had dismounted and was walking slowly behind Fess, when his foot hit an icy patch. He slipped, skidded, and just barely managed to regain his balance. He looked down at the side of the trail and saw a river's sheen below him. It was frozen solid. In the distance, he could see a sled moving away, laden with bundles, pushed by an ice-skating merchant. Half-timbered buildings fronted on the water, their stucco dyed in pastels. Rod stared—it was an incongruously gay and light-hearted scene in the midst of the winter's grimness.

  Then he heard the crunch of a footstep behind him.

  He whirled, blood pounding in his ears, panic stringing him as taut as a trap. The lurker stepped out from behind a huge old oak, and Rod found himself staring at…

  Himself.

  It was him to the life—hatchet face, eagle-beak nose, wide mouth, and glower. He was even wearing the same clothing—doublet and hose, boots, gloves, cloak, and sword, though in different colors.

  Rod decided to keep an eye on the sword. "Who are you?"

  "Who are youl" his double demanded.

  "Rod Gallowglass," Rod snapped, "Lord High Warlock." The reminder of magic lent insight, and anger. "And who the hell do you think you are, to go around wearing my face?"

  "It's my face! Who do you think you are, to be wearing it?"

  At least the double didn't have Rod's voice, too. "The man who was born with it, damn it!" Well, that wasn't quite true—Rod had grown into the face. "What the devil do you mean, impersonating me?"

  "Me impersonating youl The audacity, the effrontery of it!"

  "I notice you don't deny it!"

  "All left, I deny it!" the doppelganger bawled. "You're copying mel Just what the hell do you think you're trying to get away with?"

  Rod frowned, looking the man up and down. It was possible, it was just possible… "What does E = MC2 mean?"

  "Energy equals mass times the square of the speed of light." The stranger frowned, too. "Which is to say, energy and mass are just different aspects of the same thing. What the hell kind of question is thatV

  "A very clear one. If you know the answer, it means you're from off-planet."

  "Yeah, sure, and you're from off-planet if you can ask it! So what does that prove?"

  "That you're an imposter."

  "Imposter! What are you talking about, you fool? I'm Rod GallowglassV

  Rod stared, shocked—and the whole scene swam in front of his eyes. He staggered, putting out a hand to brace himself against a tree trunk, afraid he would faint. Then his vision cleared, and he saw the doppelganger clearly again, glaring at him with hostility, and the clarity of inner insight hit him: he remembered. He was crazy!

  Well, of course. If he was crazy, he might see anything, mightn't he? I mean, if he was having delusions, why couldn't his own self be one of those delusions?

  Apparently, it was.

  Rod leaned back on one hip, folding his arms. "Let me get this straight. You claim that you're Rod Gallowglass?"

  "The very same." The doppelganger was looking wary now. "And who do you think you are?"

  "Rod Gallowglass."

  But the doppelganger didn't squawk in outrage. He stood quietly, brooding—which sent a chill shivering up Rod's spine; it was exactly what he would have done, at this juncture.

  What he had done, in fact.

  Rod shook himself back into gear. Denial hadn't worked, so it was time for thinking.

  Why not?

  "There's two of us," the doppelganger pointed out.

  "Sh! Don't tell!" Rod glanced around furtively. "They'd banish us, you know."

  "Banish us?" The doppelganger stared. "Who?"

  "The sane people."

  "You know some?"

  "Well, yes, I think so," Rod admitted. "And just in case I don't, there's always my touchstone, Fess."

  "Mv touchstone." But the doppelganger's heart wasn't in it any more; he was too busy studying the great black robot-horse. "Do you see two of us, old boy?"

  "There is only one of you, Rod."

  Rod shuddered—Fess had heard the doppelganger!

  "But you do seem to be talking to yourself," the robot amplified. "A fascinating conversation, no doubt."

  No doubt? But Rod didn't stop to ask. "We could try to figure out which one of us is real…"

  "Yeah, and after that, we can try to figure out what 'real' means." The doppelganger's lip curled. "Can't you think of something a little more productive?"

  "Well," Rod said, "the sensible thing is for us to join forces. I mean, if we can't tell ourselves apart, we should certainly make one hell of a unit."

  "Makes sense," the doppelganger said judiciously. "But how are we going to coordinate?"

  "Very easily, I should think. You take the left side, and I'll take the right."

  The doppelganger seemed dubious. "How come you're willing to take the right?"

  "I just see you as sinister, I guess. Try it the other way—I'll be glad to have you as my squire."

  "Me be your squire? You can be my squire!"

  "What, and try to live with your idea of tactics? I'd die first! No, amend that—I'd die trying."

  "Not much faith in yourself, have you?" the doppelganger snorted.

  That brought Rod up short. He thought about it for a minute, but didn't succeed. "Afraid not. You're obviously left."

  "And will be in everything, clunkhead! You'd better take me up on my offer, and be my squire!"

  "Not if you're me, bucko! If I want dumb ideas, I can make up my own!"

  "Ridiculous," the doppelganger snapped. "At least / trust my own instincts!"

  "Oh, yeah? How about mine?"

  "Of course not!"

  "Then you can't trust your own."

  The doppelganger started to answer, shoaled on the logic, and froze with his mouth open. After a few moments, he closed his jaw and nodded. "Point to you. How's it feel to be one horn of a dilemma?"

  "Makes me feel like wanting to blow," Rod admitted.

  "Not a bad idea." The doppelganger turned away, brushing past Rod and hurrying on down the trail. "Let's go."

  Rod lifted his head with a smile. "Yeah. Not a bad idea is right." He jumped to catch up.


  As they plodded along through the snow with Fess behind, Rod offered, "This is going to get a little confusing. What're we going to call each other?"

  "How about, 'Hey, you'?"

  "Well, it certainly beats 'Hey, me.' Look, I could be Rod, and you…"

  "Hold it left there." The doppelganger stopped, holding out a hand, palm up. "/ could be 'Rod.' "

  "I see your point." Rod frowned. "Won't work, will it? Well, we have twenty middle names—can't we manage something with that?"

  The doppelganger nodded. "Nice idea. Any preference?"

  "Yeah." Rod grinned. "I'll be 'Rod,' and you can be 'Rodney.' "

  The doppelganger winced. "You know I always hated that name!"

  "But you did like your ancestor's version."

  "True," the doppelganger mused. "I've always been partial to 'Roderick.' "

  "Fine by me—you can be 'Roderick,' and I'll be 'Rodney'—but 'Rod' for short, of course." He turned away down the road.

  The doppelganger gave him a dubious look as he fell into step beside him. "How come I feel like I came out on the short end, this time?"

  "Just overly sensitive," Rod said breezily. "You know we've always been a little paranoid."

  "True enough," the doppelganger said. Then his face cleared. "I know! Tomorrow we'll change names! How's that sound?"

  "If you must." Rod sighed, then came to a halt, frowning. "Hey! How come we're walking when we could ride?"

  "Good point." His other self turned back to Fess. "You don't mind carrying double, do you, old horse?"

  "Not at all, Rod," the robot said, and stepped forward.

  "We'll take turns in the saddle, of course," Rod noted as the doppelganger mounted.

  "Oh, of course." The doppelganger shook the reins and clucked to the horse, and they rode off down the road, with the saddle empty and Fess speculating on the exact nature of the delusion that was causing Rod to ride pillion.

  The trail led along the river, then forked. Rod stopped. "I'd just as soon not go into town right now."

  The doppelganger grinned. "Don't trust yourself, eh?"

  "Not at all. I mean, it looks like a very nice, quiet little village from here, but who knows what it'll appear to be once I get there?"

  "I could go ahead and scout it out," the doppelganger offered.

  "Great!" Rod saw a chance to get rid of his other self. "I'll ride around and meet you on the far side."

  "Fine. And speaking of meat, I'll stop by the tavern and get you some lunch."

  "There's a tavern there?"

  "Well, I saw a green bush hanging from a sign bracket, and I don't think it was a florist's."

  Rod was tempted, but the thought of dumping his unwanted companion was stronger than the urge for hearth and ale. "I'll be obliged."

  The doppelganger grinned. "I know." They both dismounted; he turned away and struck out toward the town.

  Rod turned, too, toward the woods—and stopped, one foot in the air. He looked back to see what was holding him, but couldn't see anything—except for his doppel-ganger, stuck in the same pose, apparently straining against it with all his might. Rod lunged toward the wood, exerting every iota of willpower in an attempt to put his foot down—but he couldn't move an inch. "Fess—how come I can't go on?"

  "There is no physical cause, Rod."

  "Meaning it's psychosomatic. But I need to keep going." Rod turned back to the doppelganger, just as he turned to look at him.

  "Something there is that does not like a stall," he said.

  Rod winced. "Don't talk about Fess that way."

  "I didn't," his double assured him. "It's pretty obvious that something doesn't want us parted."

  "Have a heart!"

  "I do. So do you, in fact. And something wants the union of true hearts to be preserved."

  "You mean I can't get rid of you."

  "Hey! Look at it from my side—/ can't get away from you!''

  "Well, what must be, must be." Rod sighed. "I guess we travel together, or not at all. Come on, let's go."

  "And I had my skin all set for heat," the doppelganger griped. "But I have to admit, a hike through the woods is safer than letting you into a town."

  Rod scowled. "And are you so much safer than I am?"

  "Oh, infinitely safer! You think I'm a figment of your subconscious, don't you?"

  "Well…"

  "Right. And whoever heard of a mere figment doing any damage?"

  "Ever hear of Willy Loman?" Rod jibed. "But I take your point—hopefully on my shield. Come on, let's go."

  They did.

  They'd been traveling about half an hour when they heard the roar. They jumped for cover, but it was too late. Pounding feet came thundering up to their thicket. "I see yuh, I see yuh!" bellowed a sub-basso. "Come on out and fight like a man!"

  "Oh, don't be so tiresome!" a more mellow voice said. "They weren't hurting you in the slightest."

  "Shut up, goody-goody! Awright, come out with your hands up!"

  Rod came, sword first.

  The monster backed away from the point, its snout wrinkling in consternation. "Hey, now! You ain't supposed to fight back!"

  "No more than you can expect," the other voice said.

  "You shaddup!"

  It was a two-headed monster, like a very fat dragon with a rhinoceros's tail and elephant's feet—and it was puce with yellow polka dots. Rod took one look at it and was certain his hallucinations came courtesy of his subconscious.

  "I will not shut up," the other head said. "After all, you're trying to threaten them with my body, too."

  "My body! You only control the right half!"

  "So I do." The right-hand head turned to the two Rods. "I'll have to ask you to pardon this intrusion; I didn't really have much choice in the matter. You can call me 'Dexter.' "

  "You don't look very dextrous," the doppelganger pointed out.

  It didn't, but the right-hand head did have a pleasant, though bothered, look about it, in spite of being mostly snout and teeth. Its companion head, though, managed to have a sneaky, predatory look with exactly the same features. "Don't you dare call me 'Sinister'!" It swiveled to glare at Rod. "I'll bite off your head! I'll roast you alive!"

  "It's been tried." For some reason, Rod was taking a dislike to Sinister. He hefted his blade. "If you think you can argue with cold steel, go ahead and try."

  "Cold steel! I'll melt that tin toothpick down into slag!" But Sinister didn't seem eager to try.

  "I take it you had some reason for coming up to us," the doppelganger said.

  "Reason! Yeah! I'm hungry!"

  "Now, Sinister," Dexter murmured, "you know we discussed this."

  "Disgusted, maybe! Now, look, Dex, you're gonna follow my lead this time, or I'm gonna fry you to a crisp!"

  "I'm sorry, Sinister," Dexter said in a very low voice, "but I absolutely will have nothing to do with this charade." He turned to the two Rods. "You really should hurry on by. This can't be very pleasant for you."

  "Right." The doppelganger turned to go.

  With a roar, Sinister slapped out the left foot, and the doppelganger leaped back.

  "Sinister! You know these people haven't done anything to deserve…"

  "They came into my territory, didn't they?" Sinister roared. "They walked down my road, and they didn't even offer to pay for it!"

  "Oh!" Rod said, startled. "Did you build the road?"

  "Build? What the hell difference does that make? I'm standing on it!"

  "I know it's confusing," Dexter said to the doppelganger, "but you really shouldn't let this little scene keep you from…"

  "You shut up, jelly-back! If I wanna make these little bastards pay, then…"

  Dexter winced. "Please! You really have no reason…"

  "Reason!" Sinister bellowed. "You want a reason? I'll give you…"

  Rod caught the doppelganger's eye and nodded toward

  Dexter's side. The doppelganger sidled toward him, and together, display
ing great interest in the argument, they moved slowly around the right side of the creature. On the other side, Fess whinnied and stamped to distract Sinister.

  It almost worked; they almost got past him. But at the last moment, Sinister saw them and bawled, "Hey! You come back here!" It charged.

  "Back!" Rod shouted, and he and the doppelganger sprang away. Not far enough, though—the huge head was soaring toward him, fangs first.

  Dexter dug in the right-side legs and shoved back for all he was worth.

  Sinister's head came to a sudden jarring halt; inertia slammed the great jaws closed an inch from Rod's head.

  "Back!" Rod snapped, and jabbed Sinister's nose with the point of his sword. The huge head whipped up with a howl, and Rod lowered his blade, just in time for his arm to start trembling.

  "Poor Sinister! Are you hurt?" Dexter cried.

  "He maimed me!" the dragon wailed. "He cut me!"

  "A pinprick!" Rod snorted.

  "Understandable," Dexter said reluctantly, "but unnecessary. He's really quite harmless, though he is a bit of a bully."

  "Bully? I am not! You take that back!"

  "Now, Sinister… you know you…"

  You're the one who's always picking on meV

  "I never!"

  "Oh, yeah? Then why won't yuh…"

  "They were improper in using force after the danger was past, true. Still, you must admit you…"

  "Lemme at 'em!"

  And Sinister hurtled toward the Rods again. Dexter dug in, of course, and the result was that Sinister slewed around in a circle, bawling and cursing at his better half— and around and around they went, churning like a pocket tornado, with roaring accusations underscored by firm, quiet counterstatements.

  Rod nudged the doppelganger and pointed down the trail in the direction in which they'd been going. The doppelganger nodded, and together, they inched away from the arguing heads, sidling farther away and more toward the side of the road, with Fess pacing them at a discreet distance.

  They almost made it into the thicket where the trail curved, but just before they reached the cover of the evergreens, Sinister looked up, saw how far they'd moved, let out a howl like a freight train whose cars had been kidnapped, and charged them.

  "Run!" Rod shouted, and did so. But he heard a roar of fury behind him and skidded to a stop behind two evergreens, turning to look, with the doppelganger right beside him.