“Yes, in their way. You’re going to see carriages that look like giant beetles, and move without horses…
“Magic!” Callio cried, eyes round.
“Hey, it’s my hometown,” Matt said. “And there’re a lot of watchmen, only they wear light blue shirts and dark blue trousers, loose trousers, not tight like your leggings… “
“Ought we not to dress like them?”
“We should, but I didn’t have the foresight to bring along a change of clothing,” Matt said. “So if one of the watchmen stops you to ask about your funny clothes, you tell him… Callio? Callio, where are you!”
“Here, Lord Wizard.” Callio materialized out of the darkness, holding up two shirts and two pairs of jeans. “Are these the clothes of which you speak?”
Matt stared. “Where did you find those?”
“I espied them hanging from a rope in a yard near this roadway. They may not fit too well, but these watchmen you speak of will find us less remarkable in them.”
“You’re right about that,” Matt admitted. “I hate to take somebody else’s clothes, but right now, I’m afraid we need them worse than they do.” He pulled his purse out of his tights, drew out two large pieces of silver, and said, “Clip these to that rope where you got these clothes, okay?”
“Lord Wizard!” Callio exclaimed indignantly. “What proper thief… “
“The kind who has a conscience,” Matt told him, “and the kind who wants to go with me. You want to come along or not?”
“I go.” Callio snatched the silver and shot back over the fence.
Matt watched him narrowly, but the two pieces of silver were still winking under the streetlight as the thief came back, muttering and cursing every step of the way.
“Your talents could be invaluable,” Matt told him, “but we have to use them ethically if we don’t want to get into trouble. Come on, let’s step into the angle of the railroad station while we change.” He handed Callio the smaller set of clothes, not mentioning that they were a child’s size. Callio would have fainted at the thought that children grew so big here.
They stepped out again ten minutes later with Matt’s pack noticeably more full. Callio was still marveling over buttons and zippers. “Whoever would have thought to hold a garment shut with steel!”
“Yeah, it really is amazing,” Matt agreed.
“They must be wealthy indeed, who owned these garments!”
“No, steel is just very cheap here. Be careful going into people’s yards, okay? You were lucky you didn’t run into a German shepherd.”
Then Matt had to explain that the shepherd in question was a large dog, not a sheepherder from Allustria … but that became rather complicated, because the animals had originally been bred to herd sheep, and what’s more, they were originally from Alsace, which Callio stubbornly refused to admit was one of the Germanies… turned out his father had been a native of the district, and had thought himself to be thoroughly a citizen of Merovence. By the time Matt straightened it out, they had reached Main Street.
There Callio stopped and stared. “It is as bright as day!”
“Fewer accidents that way,” Matt told him.
A car came roaring by, and Callio leaped into Matt’s arms with a yip of dismay.
“Oh, get down,” Matt said in disgust, and dropped him.
The thief landed on his feet, eyes round. “Was that one of those carriages of which you spoke?”
“Horseless carriages, yes.”
“Truly they could be dangerous!”
“So could the people,” Matt told him. “Hands in pockets, okay? Your own pockets, Callio!”
“You spoil the whole adventure,” the thief complained. “What is a ‘pocket,’ Lord Wizard?”
They were just getting that sorted out when the big black car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Matt turned to run, but he bumped into Callio, and by the time they’d sorted themselves out, the six-and-a-half-foot-tall heavyweight in the pin-striped suit had climbed out and opened the back door. He jerked his head at it and snapped, “Get in!”
The driver had climbed out, too, his hand inside his suit coat.
“Uh, couldn’t we talk about this?” Matt hedged.
“You talk with the boss! Inside!”
The driver brought out his gun. Matt didn’t like the way Callio was eyeing him, then thoughtfully studying the bulge under the armpit of the thug who was holding the door. He reminded himself that he had wanted to find Groldor anyway, but before he could give in, the thug snarled “Go on, get in!” and virtually tossed him into the backseat.
Matt rolled with the throw, tucking his head in, then crashed against the far door anyway as Callio jolted up against him. The thug got in beside Callio and slammed the door shut. Heavy clunking noises sounded from all four doors, and the car moved away from the curb. Experimentally, Matt tried the door latch, but sure enough, the panel didn’t budge, and there weren’t any lock releases in sight, electronic or mechanical.
“Why do you let them treat you so, Lord Wizard?” Callio asked, wide-eyed.
“Why not?” Matt said. “They’re taking me where I want to go, anyway.”
“But I cannot abide being in so small a space!” Callio turned on the thug, grabbing his lapels and yanking himself close. “You must let me out! I cannot stand to be so shut in! It is too much like gaol!”
“We all got that problem,” the thug snarled, and jammed him back in his seat.
Matt protested, “Hey, you don’t have to be so rough with… “
But Callio shot over the seat and next to the driver, grabbing him by the lapels. “You must let me out! I fear this monster will digest me whole! This is no coach, it is a ravening raptor!”
The driver swerved, narrowly missing a semi on his left, then swung the wheel too far to the right, almost colliding with a parked car, and jammed on the brakes. Callio slammed up against the windshield and bounced back into the seat, sobbing.
“The car won’t hurt you, mac,” the driver grunted, “but I will! Now get back in that seat and stay there!”
He grabbed the little thief and shoved hard. Callio vaulted over the seatback and landed on the guard’s lap. The man cursed and jammed him back between himself and Matt.
“Let up on the kid, will you?” Matt snapped.
“The boss said not to beat on you if we didn’t have to,” the man growled. “Do we have to?”
Matt opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Callio looked up at him, still sobbing, and winked. The words evaporated on Matt’s tongue as a chill of dread seized him. Just what was the little thief planning, anyway?
Papa walked through a village of hide tents and brush huts, laid out in neat circles with a common center. That was where he was going, escorted by a Percheron with a steel suit containing a man on its back.
Foot soldiers looked up from sharpening spears and polishing armor. More people boiled out of the tents and came running to see. Many of them wore only peasants’ jerkins and leggings, but had the hard-bitten look of veterans nonetheless.
Papa was aware that, although the knight who rode the huge horse wasn’t holding a lance or sword to his back, he was nonetheless alert to the slightest questionable movement. Papa had no doubt that his sword could be out and stabbing in a second.
“Here is far enough,” the knight directed him.
Papa stopped about thirty feet from a silken pavilion… soiled and patched, but silken nonetheless. The guards saw, and one ducked inside. He came out a moment later and said, “The king will see you in a moment.”
So this was how far the King of Ibile had fallen! But he was nonetheless a king, and perhaps his finest accomplishment was that he was still fighting. Certainly the presence of his troops spoke well of him, for they could have deserted easily at any time. They definitely seemed to care about their sovereign…