"John DeChancie - Castle 06 - Castle Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dechancie John)

Again the mystery, again the enigma of Castle Perilous, presented once more in a highly colorful tale of
adventure, written by “John DeChancie,” the purported author of all the Castle romances, who, unless
this investigator has completely botched the job of ferreting him out, does not exist in any known world,
i.e. in any of the worlds accessible via the castle.

Readers of previous books in this series will by now need no introduction to the castle, its residents, or
its mysteries. However, as series books are sometimes read out of sequence, perhaps a capsule summary
of the complex setting in which these stories are laid will serve as a pocket travel guide, as it were, to the
world — and the myriad universes — of Castle Perilous.

Castle Perilous is a fortress atop a citadel bestriding the Plains of Baranthe, situated in a region known as
the Western Pale, in a world bleak and drear. Nothing definite may be said of the castle’s size — save
that it is vast; nor of its structure — save that it beggars description. It is no ordinary castle. Its external
aspects shift and slide and rearrange, as do its labyrinthine interior spaces. It is the ultimate maze, one
sometimes as terrifyingly dangerous as it is confounding. But this indeterminate aspect of its nature is
not the only peculiarity; for beyond almost every door and window, through almost every portal within
the castle’s tumultuous enclosures, lies another world. And through these portals come creatures of
every description — fanged and furred they come; scaled and scrofulous they slither forth; beings
fantastic and outré, some more horrific than the phantoms haunting the sweatiest nightmare.

Not all are monsters; in point of fact most visitors are human; and, indeed, most of the nonhuman
“Guests” are decent enough sorts, in sharp contradistinction to their terrifying appearance.

For all its bizarre nature, however, Castle Perilous is a proper castle, and even boasts a king. His name is
Incarnadine, Lord of the Western Pale, and, by the grace of the gods, King of the Realms Perilous. If
understatement can sometimes be more eloquent than hyperbole, and more convincing, let us say that he
is something of a magician, drawing on the castle itself as the source of his thaumaturgical powers. A

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gracious host as well, he cherishes his Guests and makes them eternally welcome.

What is the castle, exactly, and why does it exist? That is a long story. The tales of Castle Perilous are as
endless as the worlds it contains. Only a relative few of them have been set down.…

… Which brings us up to this present volume.

This is the sixth installment of a work which bears the overarching title The Eidolons of the King, and,
although past volumes have presented some problems regarding textual exegesis, this is the first book
that, bids fair — if its numerous puzzles continue to resist critical explication — to become that bane of
scholars down through the ages: the apocryphal work.

For all of the castle adventures thus far have been based to some extent on truth. The tales told in
preceding books were in fact true stories, so far as this castle scribe has been able to ascertain. Indeed,
some of the castle’s more harrowing events are forever etched in acid on the copperplate of my memory.
But this is not the case with the “events” related in this particular castle book. No such happenings have
been recorded in Perilous’s annals. No such drama ever unfolded within its dark purlieus.