After the execution of his friend, Arth was no longer tempted by life within the castle walls. All he wanted was to get away from here, to see his wife again, and to hurt Baron Kremer as badly as possible. The thief looked to the Earth-man with complete confidence.
Dennis wished he could share the feeling.
As twilight fell, a squad of soldiers climbed a pedestal in the courtyard where Dennis’s needler was kept during the day. When not being practiced or stored for the night, it was exposed to sunlight, always surrounded by at least six guards.
Dennis had run through a few calculations. Clearly the needler was approaching the theoretical limit of capability for that type of weapon. No matter how efficient it became, it could only throw slivers of metal with the amount of energy it could absorb through a five-square-centimeter solar collector.
That gave Dennis one more reason to get out of here. Kremer had talked of using the needler to blast down the walls of cities. Dennis didn’t want to be around when the Baron found out the deadly little weapon could be practiced only so far.
He watched the guards cautiously remove the needler from its little solarium. No. The device was guarded much too closely. He clearly wasn’t going to be able to reclaim his property and blast his way to freedom. There would have to be another way.
He had considered building a wheeled cart and practicing it into an armored car. Theoretically, it should be possible. But it could take months or years, at the rate things normally improved here. It just wasn’t feasible under the circumstances.
As dusk settled, the watch kites were pulled in. The Baron’s glider corps had already swooped down from their training flights for the night.
Dennis thought again about those glider sheds. They were lightly guarded. It took long training to learn to fly one of the gossamer-winged things, and Baron Kremer apparently assumed he controlled the only corps of qualified pilots in the world.
He was right. Dennis had never flown even a fixed-wing glider, not to mention one of these kite things. But he had taken a few private flying lessons in single-engined prop planes. He had always intended to go back and get his license.
The two kinds of flying couldn’t be that different, could they?
Anyway, he had seen lots of movies and talked to hang-glider pilots about how it was done. And he had taken courses in the physics of aerodynamics. The principles seemed simple enough.
“Have you managed to pick a way in and out of your room yet?” he asked Arth.
“Of course.” The small thief sniffed. “They bolt th’ door, but you can’t keep a fellow like me in a room that hasn’t been practiced as a jail.”
“Especially with the help of a little slippery oil.”
Arth shrugged. They had been careful to collect the stuff when nobody was looking, so they only had a little. Still, just a little bit of the perfect lubricant could go a long way.
“I can get about the cruder parts of th’ castle pretty well after dark. The hard part’s the outer walls, where they’ve got dogs, an’ sniffer beasts, an’ lights and guards by the dozens. I could pilfer half the stuff in Kremer’s banquet room if I knew I could get off the castle-mount with it.”
“Do you think you could snatch one of those?” Dennis nodded toward the shed where they had watched the pilots carefully fold their machines earlier.
Arth looked at Dennis nervously. “Uh, I dunno. Those gliders are kinda bulky…” He bit his lower lip. “Your question’s just… uh, hypothetical.” He carefully spoke the word Dennis had taught him. “Isn’ it? It doesn’ have nothin’ to do with your idea on how to escape from here, does it?”
“It does, Arth.”
Arth shuddered. “I was afraid you’d say that. Dennizz, do you know how many men Kremer lost before they learned to handle those things? They still lose nearly half their new pilots. Can you actually fly one?”
Dennis needed Arth’s help. To get it he would have to inspire faith. “What do you think?” he asked confidently.
Arth smiled slightly, tentatively. “Yeah, sure. I guess only an idiot would try to take off in one of those things, in th’ dark, without knowin’ what he’s doin’. I’m sorry, Dennizz.”
Dennis managed not to wince visibly at his friend’s way of putting it. He clasped Arth’s shoulder. “Right. Now, do you think you’ll be able to hide the glider until we need it? Kremer’s people don’t seem to understand inventory control, but they may miss it anyway.”
“No problem.” Arth grinned. “My room’s stuffed with heaps of cloth and lumber for our ‘experiments.’ The servants’ve got orders to give us any junk we want, whatever’s not sharp or made of metal. I can hide it in there easy.”
“Will you want me to help in the heist?”
Arth shivered. “Uh, no, Dennizz. Some things are best left to experts. You walk like a bull rickel tha’s lookin’ for a female under a house. No offense, but I’ll do it m’self. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“All right, then.” Dennis looked at the settling twilight. “Maybe you’d better retire a bit early this evening, Arth. You look pretty tired.”
“Huh? But it’s only…oh.” Arth nodded. “You want me to do it tonight.” He shrugged. “Ah, well, why not? That means we make th’ break tomorrow night?”
“Or the night after.” Dennis was under a time limit. Kremer would not be stalled much longer.
“Okay.” Arth had picked up the expression from Dennis. The little thief yawned exaggeratedly for the benefit of the guards. He spoke out loud. “Well, I think I’ll work on improvin’ my cot for a while!” He nudged Dennis with his elbow and winked. “See you in the mornin’, boss!” Then he added under his breath, “I hope.”
“Good luck,” Dennis said softly as Arth walked away, followed by his guard. Dennis felt bad asking him to risk his neck like this. But the fellow knew his job and would do it cheerfully. Dennis counted himself lucky to have him as his friend.
Nearby, a small stream of pungent liquor had begun to drip from the end of the condenser. If that kept up, the crew’s main job would be simply to watch and practice the distillery as a unit. The hard part was teaching them to change the wine mix properly.
Dennis found his thoughts drifting several parapets higher. Now that he was committed to trying an escape soon, he would have to settle his feelings about Princess Linnora.
If he was really serious about doing something for her, somehow during the next twenty-four hours he would have to get in touch with her, somehow regain her trust, and find a way to get her away from her guards for a rendezvous with the glider at the castle peak.
It sounded next to impossible.
He only hoped that she would give him a chance to explain if the time ever came.
The distillery crew huddled around the condenser, watching the slow drip-dripping of brandy into a flask.
Dennis caught some brandy on his fingers and shuddered as he sniffed, wishing nostalgically for the bottle of thirty-year-old Johnny Walker Swing that presumably still sat in his closet back at Sahara Tech.
He popped a few drops into his mouth and then sucked air. The stuff did have a bite to it, he had to admit.
The evening shift of practicers arrived to relieve the day crew. It was time to change the pot anyway, so he ran the Coylian prisoners through the routine several times to make sure they had it down right.
By the time they had finished, the stars were coming out. He made sure all was in order, then picked up his cloak from the railing. “I want to stretch my legs,” he told his guards.
The northmen bowed slightly and followed behind. Although his privileges had been sharply reduced, he was still at least officially a quasiguest…and a wizard. He had freedom of the yard so long as he was accompanied.