“Elan said to hide,” Kevriac added. “Here.”
He pointed at one of the big carved tables.
“But they’ll see us,” Nan said, pointing to the bare space below them.
“Not if we pull our aprons over our knees,” Joe said. “All they’d see is feet, and if those are covered by aprons, maybe they’ll think we’re packages or something.”
Kevriac shrugged. “It’ll have to do. Come on—she says messages don’t take long. They have some kind of magic signals, and that sorcerer below can also scry.”
Hastily the three got under the big carved table. Nan grabbed the apple tarts and the pastries, eating them quickly.
“Geez,” Joe whispered. “They starve you up here?”
“Yes.” She braced, feeling defensive. But when she looked at his face, she saw only sympathy there.
“Mmmm,” Nan said softly a few moments later, and licked her fingers. Her stomach felt really full for the first time in ages, and the lovely taste of fresh pastry, of apple, of spices, lingered on her tongue.
There was a loud bang from somewhere not too distant, and running footsteps. They trampled by—without pausing—and went straight to the doors that Nan already knew led to the prince’s tower.
A loud rap sounded, and then a voice Nan recognized as Todan’s. “Guard!”
With a klunk and a creak the door opened. “My lord?”
“Any trouble here?”
“Nothing to report, sir.”
“It’s that weaseling Lorjee—has to be,” Todan growled. “I never should have let him talk me into keeping the girl at his house. Blast it! Listen! Send down the entire detail—I’m going to need them. You two stay here, and let no one unauthorized in. If anything happens, wake up Mistress Crail. She can deal with any trouble.”
Moments later a lot of tramping feet announced the departure of all the guards but two. Todan and his guards ran down the adjacent hall, and their footsteps died away.
“Now,” Kevriac said. “We just wait by the door until she opens it, and follow along with whatever happens.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t really know. Elan’s not good at scrying—it’s kind of like listening to someone underwater,” Kevriac said. “But I got enough. Just follow me.”
Nan crawled out from under the table and Joe picked up the trays, trailing along behind. The three stood silently, Kevriac watching in one direction and Nan in the other. Joe stared at the doors as if trying to pull Elan through from the other side by brain waves.
Even so, he jumped when they swung open abruptly, and Nan felt a weird urge to giggle. A tall, pale girl with black hair appeared, but the sight of the tall, grim guards behind her doused the giggles. Elan was dressed in a nice gown of dove gray, almost as pretty as a toff gown to Nan’s eyes, but with no ornaments, and the sashed apron of a servant. Behind her lurked two hulking guards.
“These are my scrubbers,” the girl said. She had to be Elan. And to Nan and the others, “We had another accident up here.”
The two guards looked suspiciously at the kids, then stepped back, their arms tensed on their weapons relaxed. That’s right, Nan thought. Just kids.
Joe still held his trays—and the girl placed rags and a bucket on the top one, as though she’d expected to find a tray waiting.
“Quickly,” Elan said.
Nan curtseyed, Elan backed inside, and the kids filed between the guards.
Now their surroundings were fabulous, like some kind of movie. Gold gleamed richly everywhere, and jewels sparkled like live things. Even the lamps looked like they were worth as much as a house back on Earth.
Used to the dreariness of undecorated stone, Nan looked about, feeling the beauty as a kind of balm—like the pastries. Things seemed unreal, almost, but strangely heartening, even though she knew this was the most dangerous part of their quest.
Elan led them swiftly up several flights of stairs, past rooms Nan could only glance into. Each was fabulous, decorated in interesting colors: a rose room, a blue room, a room that seemed made of glass and gold and reflected fires. At last they entered a huge circular room, with one last staircase. Windows all around indicated they had almost reached the very top of Castle Rotha. The Prince was just above them.
Elan started across the thick indigo carpet, which had stars and suns woven in. As Nan followed, she felt a slight wave of dizziness, and for a moment it seemed she was walking in space, and below her feet were those celestial bodies.
She drew in a deep breath—and froze when a familiar voice ripped out from behind, “Elan! Where are you going? Did you get permission from—you! What are you doing here, thief!”
It was Lady Olucar.
Nan stared, terrified, as the woman strode swiftly across the room. Nan’s brain completely froze, and her mouth seemed to go dry.
“I knew there was trouble when I found my sweet little pet lying asleep on the carpet in the Garden Hall. Was that you?”
Olucar’s hand shot out, quick as a striking snake, and slapped Nan across the face.
Nan staggered back, lost her balance, and stars ripped across her vision.
o0o
Anger ripped through Joe when the mean-faced woman smacked Nan. Then alarm burned even brighter when the woman sucked in a deep breath—Joe knew she was about to call the guard.
He didn’t have time to go for the knife in his moc. Without even thinking he dumped the rags and bucket, and with a flick of his wrist sent the trays spinning through the air at the woman.
Klonk! The top tray caught her square on the forehead, and sent her flailing back to trip over an embroidered stool, where she lay groaning.
“Nice work,” Kevriac said fervently.
Joe grinned. He might not be any great shakes with a sword—yet—but all those weeks of training had sure paid off.
“Go,” Elan murmured in an urgent voice. “Before Crail awakens. I’ll tie Olucar up—she’s the one who taught me how,” she added grimly as she whipped off her apron and used the sash to bind Lady Olucar’s hands. “Tying the prince up for their horrible experiments.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gagged Lady Olucar.
Nan sat up, groaning as she touched the back of her head.
Joe sprang to help her up. Until that loud Lady Olucar came in, Nan had been the leader, and then Kevriac, and then Elan, and Joe had felt about as useful as an extra nose. Pride surged through him as he helped Nan to her feet.
“Hit my head on that table,” she muttered. “Oh, it hurts. Go ahead, Joe—it only takes one of us.”
“Nope. You, too. We’ll both break the spell.”
Nan gave him a weak grin, and they started toward the last stairway—and then halted when they a short, merry-faced woman dressed all in blue. She stood there waiting.
“Well now,” she said. “Which of you is the hero from another world?”
No one spoke. Even Elan went still, her expression fearful. Olucar moaned into her gag, but no one paid any attention to her.
Joe stooped to grab the bucket.
“Don’t move—unless you want to turn to stone,” the woman said sharply.
Joe straightened up.
The woman came down the last steps, her eyes triumphant above her big smile. “I smell magic on you.” She pointed at Kevriac. “Are you the one?” When she didn’t get an answer, she shrugged, raised her hands and began muttering softly.
Kevriac flung up his own hands, his voice squeaky but steady as he did his own spell.
Joe blinked as light seemed to glow from one to the other, and his head felt weird, as though there’d been a sonic boom. Kevriac staggered, straightened, and sucked in a breath.
“All they could think to send was children?” the woman said in distaste. “This isn’t even fun.” And again she muttered, and Kevriac also did, his voice rising in desperation. They made signs with their fingers that caused the air to glow with a fuzzy kind of lightning.
The hairs on
Joe’s arms began to rise. The room felt like a thunderstorm was about to hit, and rainbow colors danced at the edge of his vision. Nan pulled away from his slack fingers, rubbing her eyes. She lurched toward the stairway a few steps, and leaned against a table near the foot of the steps, her head bowed, her hands plunged into her apron pockets. The woman sent her an impatient glance, then turned back to Kevriac.
Again they started their muttering; Joe wondered if they were weaving spells and counter-spells. If so, Kevriac seemed to be losing, for his voice was getting fainter, and all the glow seemed to be on the woman’s side of the room.
Kevriac reeled, his hands going to his head.
The woman laughed, raised her hands—and then she stopped mid-laugh.
Joe turned, and terror ripped through him when he saw the star-stone man. Bending down, he fumbled for the knife hilt in his moc, but the man saw, and said quickly, “I’m on your side!”
His gaze went to the woman. “As Mistress Crail knows,” he added, watching through narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” the man went on. “The guards were really most assiduous in doing their duty. I’m afraid I finally had to send them on a temporary slumber. You did well, my young mage,” he added, waving at Kevriac, though he hadn’t taken his eyes from the woman. “So, Crail, breaking your vows?”
“I was hired as a protector—”
“Protector,” the man said contemptuously. “Before you implicate yourself in any more lies, you ought to know that I have been here since you were first contacted. The High Mage suspected you might want to take this little island paradise for yourself. Haven’t you been somewhat greedy?”
“If you’ve been here, you’ve interfered as well,” the woman said.
The man shook his head. “I merely permitted the local plotters to convince themselves I was part of their plans, but I have done nothing overt. And I continue to do nothing overt. The inhabitants of this principality are going about solving their own problems, as they ought. Step aside—”
“No you don’t!” the woman shouted, and her hands jerked up—
But before she could perform whatever spell she’d had ready, Nan’s right hand whipped out of her pocket and she sent a funny-looking red cloud straight into the Mistress Crail’s eyes.
The woman shrieked, a terrible sound that died away as she slowly crumpled. The man murmured a spell over her, then straightened up.
“She’ll do, until we can take her back for judgment,” he said, wiping his hands. “Now, go on and do what you came to do.”
Joe turned to Nan, who nodded, her face as pale as her apron.
Together they started up the last stairway, which was wide and circular, carved out of marble. Kevriac and Elan closed in behind them.
The top room was very bare, except for a bed and a chair. Seated on the chair, his wrists and ankles bound securely to the carved arms and legs, was a tall, thin young man with a face into which premature lines had been carved. His long brown hair was simply tied back, and his clothes were as plain as one of the merchants’ down below.
Joe licked his lips, bracing for some kind of big, spectacular spell—probably something painful, if what had gone on below was any indicator.
But the ending was the simplest after all.
For a moment it seemed as if they walked through water. Joe pushed his hands out as Nan did the same. The air glittered slightly around them—and then the glitter was gone, along with that watery feeling.
The young man lifted his head, and blinked. He had brown eyes just like Joe’s own. Prince Troial looked slowly around the room as if he did not recognize it.
Joe heard a quiet sob, and Elan dashed forward, knelt, and began to work at the knots confining the prince to the chair. The brown gaze lifted to Joe’s face, weary, faintly puzzled, then shifted, uncomprehending, to Nan, then to Kevriac, who had dropped to his knees, head bowed.
One hand freed, Prince Troial reached to touch Elan’s hair. “I know you,” he murmured. “You have a kind face.”
Elan covered her face with her hands and started to cry.
Prince Troial looked up, his confusion plain. “Who are you all? Where is my good tutor, Master Todan? Where is my mother?”
Kevriac was still as death, and Nan rubbed the back of her head as though she had a killer headache.
Joe took a deep breath. “Boy oh boy,” he said. “Have we got a lot to tell you!”
Twenty
While Joe was talking to the prince, Nan saw the man with the star-stone ring come in. He stayed in the background, but made sure that Todan and his gang couldn’t do anything to Prince Troial—or anyone else—when they came rushing in a few minutes later.
After that, for a while everything went completely crazy. Todan tried to get the guards to arrest everyone, but half the guards, seeing the prince on his feet and sane, threw down their weapons—or turned on Todan’s guys.
Then the shouting started, with aristocrats and commanders and everyone else all crowding into the tower and accusing each other.
Elan touched Joe and Nan and Kevriac on the shoulder and led them out. Nan’s last glance back showed that magician standing next to the prince, who was trying to listen to everyone at once, despite his looking pale and shaky.
They pushed their way through the knots of people, and went back downstairs to one of the pretty rooms. The quiet seemed loud in Nan’s ears, which were still ringing from the bang on the head Olucar had given her by knocking her down.
“We’ll wait here,” Elan said, drying her eyes. “He’ll be wanting us when they get sorted out a bit, I think. Until then, all of you look like you could do with a good meal and some rest.”
Nan got her dry tongue to move. “Kitchen’s closed,” she said.
Elan grinned. “We have our own kitchen up here. You don’t think they trusted anyone downstairs, do you? I’ll be right back. Go ahead and sit anywhere you want. I don’t think he’s going to mind.”
They collapsed onto satin and velvet-covered chairs as if someone had pulled the stuffing out of them. Nan looked at the two boys, thinking: No more potatoes. No more Ilda. The giggles came back, a constant stream of snickers like bubbles in water, impossible to stem.
Elan returned with a loaded tray of delicacies and all three kids pounced, gobbling like pigs. When Nan couldn’t eat any more, she fell back onto the couch she’d chosen, leaned back her head—and the next thing she knew, sunlight streamed in the window, and Elan was gone, but a whole lot of other people had come in.
Nan sat up. Joe sat on the next couch over, rubbing his tousled head. Then Kevriac slid off his couch onto his knees. Nan looked up, one hand touching gently at the egg on the back of her skull, and watched the fabulously dressed people part and then bow, like grass cut by a strong breeze.
The prince came in. He still looked tired, but his eyes were direct, knowing, here. He smiled broadly. Then, to Nan’s surprise, he dropped on one knee before them, and said, “Here are the three who saved my life.”
Kevriac bowed his head, and Joe’s face reddened.
Nan spotted Elan peering over someone’s shoulder. “Not three,” she said. “Elan there—she’s been a servant for at least a couple of years, just in case this plan worked. And did you know about Blackeye? And Warron? And Noss? They were all part of the plan, just like us. All of them.”
“Then we shall have them up here and reward them as well,” the prince said, rising. “For now, I want you to speak, for I must hear about what has happened in my principality while I was imprisoned in the dream-world. Everyone who wishes to speak shall be heard, from high to low degree. And then Nitre, Todan, Olucar, Lorjee, and the others shall be permitted their turn—yet I feel that they will have much to answer to.”
So each of the kids talked, while soberly dressed scribes wrote down their words. Then they were free.
o0o
For three days Nan stayed in the palace as the prince’s guest. For two of those days all Nan could do was sleep
and eat. The boys had disappeared somewhere else. When she finally felt normal again, Taliath came to visit her, and gleefully told her about the household upsets.
“And here’s the best,” she said, pausing to laugh. “The prince has freed all the bond servants, good and bad, saying that the true word for such was slaves, and he would have none of it on his islands. They were given the choice of staying as paid servants, or else receiving the equivalent of half-a-year’s wages so that they could seek some other kind of work.”
“Did anyone leave?”
“Well, Ilda was gone by the end of a day—after just about every girl from your dorm came up to her and described, in loving detail, just what they thought of her. Giula also received like treatment, but she’s elected to stay, whimpering about how she just wants to be friends.”
“Probably can’t do anything else,” Nan said, thinking of those long boring days of peeling and chopping vegetables. “Or else she’s too lazy to try.”
“Cook is now in charge of appointing her kitchen help, not Olucar, and Hortia was made head pastry girl this morning.”
“Ugh!”
“Crabby as she is, she is also apparently a genius with food. But at least she won’t have power over anyone anymore,” Taliath finished, dusting her hands on her knees.
“Good,” Nan said. “Where are the boys?”
“They went down yesterday to join Blackeye—who has her audience with the prince today,” Taliath said. “Noss, too. If you want to be there, you’d better get dressed and come.”
Not long after, the girls crowded into the throne room, which was all blue and pink marble. Blackeye was there, almost unfamiliar in a nice new tunic and trousers, with her hair neatly braided back. She even had shoes on, though she walked as if someone had put eggs in them. Next to her was a short boy that Nan had never seen before.
She saw Joe, who beckoned. “That’s Noss.” He pointed to the boy. “And there’s Imic, who helped get Alitra.” He pointed to another kid.
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