CHAPTER SIX
THE AMPHIBIOUS CASTLE
Dinner was a curious affair. The first part consisted of Edgar's flirtatious and suggestive remarks to Terra, with grunts and protestations from Locke, and Locke's trying to show that he knew table etiquette too, though he obviously didn't. More than once Locke had to remember to use his silverware or take his elbows off the table or put his napkin in his lap. All this amused Terra very much, which is not a testament to her vanity but to her sense of humor—for no one could deny that the two men were making asses of themselves, entering into some clandestine competition in which neither was sure of winning the prize. Indeed, there was no prize within reach, for Terra's heart was for no one.
Eventually, however, they got down to business.
"Locke tells me you both are in need of safe passage to the Sabil Mountains, the haunt of the Returners," said Edgar, sipping his wine.
"So you too are involved in this rebellion?" said Terra.
"Let's just say that it would be in Figaro's best interest if the imperial arm were shortened," said Edgar.
"Here, here!" Locke chimed in, "Figaro and all the free cities of the world!"
Edgar looked at Terra for a moment with apparent curiosity and interest. "I take it, my dear, that you are not yet certain where your allegiance lies?"
The truth was that the prospect of being discovered by the Empire was frightening. But neither was she sure she wanted to join the Returners.
Edgar didn't look the least bit worried by her silence. "Whatever decision you make is fine, my dear. Outwardly, Figaro is allied with the Empire, though even they know that the bond is weak, almost nominal. But as long as we cooperate we can expect to be left well alone. And—damn the politics!—I could never call such a beauty like yourself my enemy."
Locke choked on his wine and sputtered as he tried to regain control of his voice. Terra laughed as he pulled a napkin off the table to clean himself, sending all his silverware to the floor with a clatter.
There was still the question of Terra's value as a soldier, and why both the Returners and the Empire were so eager to have her.
"Have you heard anything about me from the Empire?" Terra asked Edgar.
"Of course. I am under the strictest orders to apprehend any woman of your remarkable description and inform general Kefka immediately."
"Doesn't look like you're cooperating," Terra said slyly. "I wonder what makes them so anxious to have me back?"
"Perhaps it's your abilities..." said Edgar absentmindedly. Locke shot him a knowing look, and Edgar looked as if he had let something slip that he shouldn't have. He set his wine glass down and smiled again at Terra.
"My abilities?" Terra asked, seizing upon the opportunity. "Which abilities?"
Edgar appeared to be quickly searching for an appropriate lie. "Uh...why of course, you're the absolute flower of the imperial army!"
"You flatter my beauty; don't insult my intelligence," said Terra. "How far could this arm cast a spear? How high do you think I could hold a shield? Would my battle cry evoke fear or laughter?"
Edgar was at a loss for words. He and Locke shared a nervous look. Edgar was spared answering this question—to Terra's great frustration—by the arrival of a messenger, who burst into the hall and hurried over to the king to whisper in his ear. Edgar's eyes widened for a moment, then, resuming his placid look, said to Locke and Terra, "If you'll excuse me, I have a matter of state to attend to." He gave a nod full of intelligence to Locke, a swift, apologetic bow to Terra, and swept from the hall with his royal cape billowing behind him. The door shut with a sonorous sound.
"Come on," said Locke, "We'd better get ready to go."
"'Go'?" asked Terra.
"Just in case," said Locke, with that infuriating grin.
Terra knew she was angrier than she had a right to be, but the revelation of her true identity, having come so close, only to be wrenched away, filled her with frustration. Nevertheless, without a word she followed Locke at a quick pace out of the hall. They did not leave by the same door they had entered, but passed through a secret corridor behind a red curtain bearing the royal insignia (a leopard and a bear rampant, back to back).
And once again, Terra found herself being led along a narrow stone passageway, this time by Locke, who had picked up a torch a short distance in. They were now climbing the spiraling staircase of a tower, going round and round, beams of sunlight coming in through tiny portals.
"Wait!" said Terra, for she stopped and looked out one of the portals, which commanded a view of the courtyard below. There she saw King Edgar talking with someone, apparently arguing, judging by their looks and the curt gestures they made as they spoke. The man arguing with Edgar—Terra could hardly believe her eyes—was dressed like a peacock or perhaps a clown. He wore bright colors, frills, and pompous, ludicrous clothes more fitting to a jester than a general. His troops were just outside the wall, perhaps a hundred mounted men in brown armor, and three very large menacing objects that Terra didn't at first comprehend. They were monstrous machines, black and shiny, at least ten feet tall, each bearing a pilot. Each had two long legs with a long talon extending out from each foot, knees bent backwards, giving the legs a wicked curve. The body was shaped like that of a rooster, with the pilot on top of what appeared to be a bowing head like that of a wolf.
"Magitek riding-armor," said Locke, who had leaned forward to look. "You would probably feel right at home on top of one of those monsters."
Terra gave him a shrewd look.
"Come on," said Locke, "We'd better keep moving. They're looking for you, you know."
If she was a Magitek pilot, Terra thought, that explained how she could serve in the imperial army without fighting in the ranks. But it still didn't explain the Empire's urgency. Why a general and a battalion of men to recapture a Magitek pilot, even a great one?
Locke and Terra soon came to a door, and leaving the ascent up the tower, they hurried along yet another passage, and then down another spiraling tower. Finally, they came to a stop in a small room at the bottom. On one side there was a door leading outside, on the other a door into another room.
Locke had two bags already prepared for them. "You'd better put on some traveling clothes," he said.
Terra changed in an adjacent room, donning clothes in the Figarian style, including an auburn traveling cloak that complemented her hair. She had just reentered the room when she heard the sound of explosions above.
"They're shelling the castle!" said Locke, as another round of explosions went off above them.
"What!" said Terra. "How?"
"Magitek!" said Locke scornfully.
Suddenly Edgar burst in through the door. "Follow me!" he urged them.
Outside, they ran out of a back way from the castle, keeping their heads down, as the deafening explosions and bursts of light sent showers of rubble down around them. They continued to run with their heads down until they reached a hidden bunker in the sand a good distance from the castle. Edgar pulled a long chain lying on the ground and opened a trap door. Once inside, they looked out at the assault through a narrow gap.
"What's happening?" Terra asked.
"That fool, Kefka, is bombing my castle," said Edgar, "he seems to think I'm harboring you."
"You don't seem to be as worried as you should be," said Terra.
"Wait and see, my dear."
And then something began to happen. There was a low rumbling sound and the ground was quaking, and Terra could see that the sand was moving towards the castle, as if sinking into its foundations.
"Is it an earthquake?" said Terra.
Then suddenly it looked as if the bunker was rising up out of the ground. But no—the bunker wasn't rising, the castle was sinking!
"Edgar! The castle!" she exclaimed.
"Yes!" said Edgar exultantly, "The world's first amphibious castle! A miracle of modern machinery."
In a few minutes the rumbling faded away into the earth, as the peaks of the turrets submerged beneath the uninterrupted ocean of sand. The troop of imperial soldiers turned in formation and marched off into the desert.
