Chapter Twenty-Seven
Morlock’s Castle
Paris studied the walls of Morlock’s castle doubtfully. They were over a furlong in height, and other than with a grappling hook and a long, exposed climb, there was no other apparent way to enter the castle. To make matters worse, there was a moat full of huge creatures whose monolithic spined backs occasionally broke the surface of waters that were black and poisonous. The only entrance was closed, and the drawbridge was raised.
“Perhaps we should just go up and knock,” he suggested to Niles who smiled.
“Do you recognize this place?” said Niles.
Paris looked blank. “I have never been here before,” he replied.
“But do you recognize it?” Niles persisted. “From somewhere else.”
Paris arched his eyebrows in faint surprise and took another look. “Now that you mention it, there is something familiar in its look. But I cannot place it.”
“Think of Angorain,” said Niles.
Paris looked thoughtful for a moment. “Angorain. This castle and its walls do bear some similarity. And this castle does have a distinctly elvish look about it.” His eyes went wide. “And there is a huge, tiled illustration of a sister city. This city. It was called Valerian.”