He stood by the window all the rest of that long day, looking up at the sky and wishing that he were free. The sky was the soft, clear shade of winter, emp- ry except for a time when a few large and ungainly shapes flapped across his narrow bit of vision.
After he had stared at the strange forms for a long while without conscious awareness of them, their peculiar shapes penetrated his depression; he looked at them and wondered what they might be. They were certainly not songbirds-too big. Nor eagles nor hawks, still larger and far too bulky. They seemed to be flying in a direct line behind a lead bird or whatever it was. He wished with all his heart that they would just swoop down and take him away with them. A peculiar tingling whiteness filled his head, and he felt dizzy and faint.
He put his hand on the stone sill and steadied himself. After a heartbeat, the feeling passed. He pressed his face against the cool bars of the window just in time to see the last of the odd creatures cross the width of the tiny window and disappear from sight. He felt even more depressed once they were gone.
Prayers were called at midday and again at mid- afternoon, when still more unfortunates were dragged up the steep stairs to the top of the pyramid where, outlined against the angry red of the falling sun, they donated their lives to the demanding Exag.
Their terrified screams rang in Mika's ears long after the last call to prayer echoed through the city shortly after dark.
Mika had kept to himself, thinking throughout the long day. The king had withdrawn into a tight-lipped shell and had not even looked their way since morning. The princess had finally given up her vigil of hatred at the bars. She, along with Tam and RedTail, had paced and slept and now stared up at Mika as though expecting him to do something. Margraf watched him as well, though after his one outburst of tears he had not lost control of his emotions.
"The rusties," said Mika, turning to Margraf. "You say there are a lot of them. How many?"
"I dunno," said Margraf. "More than I can count. There's lots of 'еш. I can never figure out what keeps them alive. Father says that there are even bigger ones that live in the lower depths, some as big as buildings, but I think that's just a story made up to scare the little kids into behaving. I've never seen a big rusty, just the little ones that come foraging for metal. We hardly have any metal left, but there's always lots of them. I guess they must be pretty hun- gry"
"I certainly hope so," Mika said fervently. "I hope they're hungrier than ever before in their lives because I'm about to give them a banquet."
Margraf stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Mika chuckled, opened his shoulder pouch, and took out his book of spells.
"It will take a combination of spells if it is to work," Mika muttered, stroking his beard with his gauntlet- ed hand. Mika had enough trouble accomplishing only one spell and doing it right, much less two. He would need to use the gemstone for certain, but at this point it no longer mattered. The curse and even his demon fingers seemed but a trifle compared to his approaching death.
Hornsbuck had been calling to him all day, but Mika had not answered, racked with self doubt and weighted down by the responsibility he felt for all of the others. He smiled to himself grimly, thinking about the king. Surely this was what it was like to rule, holding the lives of others in your hands. He was determined to do a better job of it than the king had. As the darkness grew, somehow he knew he would succeed.
He moved to the doorway and pressed his face against the bars.
"Hornsbuck," he cried in a hoarse whisper.
"Aye," came the sullen reply.
"I think I've got it figured out," Mika said. "Everyone be ready to run for it. It will start around midnight. Be ready."
"Mika! What are you going to do?" Hornsbuck whispered hoarsely. "What's going to start around midnight?"
"Just trust me, all right?" said Mika. "I'll do the best I can, and then it's every man for himself until we get to the wall. The plan is fire; grab torches and whatever else that will burn and pile it against the wall. We'll burn our way through the damned thing and leave this cursed city behind!"
A ragged cheer broke out. Mika sat down again and began reading words from his spell book, trying to commit them to memory, all the while wondering if the horses were quartered somewhere nearby or if he had lost his faithful roan forever. He also thought about the king and the demon, wondering what would happen, but he no longer really cared. If his plan worked, he would take his chances, and if it didn't, well, a man could only die once. He hoped.
Midnight came almost too soon for Mika, although none too soon for the restless wolves and the rest of the prisoners.
"He's starting!" piped Margraf as Mika faced toward what he assumed to be the center of the city and began to chant, his gauntleted hand wrapped around the gemstone, the other pointing down toward the heart of the labyrinths that underscored the city.
For what seemed a long time, a very long time, although in truth it was merely a matter of heartbeats, nothing happened. Mika did not cease in his incantation of the magical spell, repeating it over and over.
Then he heard it. At first it was no more than a soft, scuffling sound, the barest of murmurs, like the sea lapping against the shore on a hot summer's day. But the sound grew. Louder and louder it became until it sounded like the beat of scores upon scores of antelopes pounding across the dusty plains.
One might have missed it if one were not listening for it, but Mika was. A broad smile creased his face, making it difficult to repeat the spell. But still he kept on.
And now the sound was even louder, the trampling of feet, many, many of them, and all heading unerringly toward Mika.
The sound of them grew louder and louder and louder still! They thundered toward the prison, cluttering and squealing and squeaking. For the first time Mika felt fear, and the incantation wavered.
Screams broke out on the far side of the building, and Mika was afraid that his fellow prisoners would panic. But then he heard a ragged cheer go up, and laughter as well.
"They did it, they got the guards! Squashed 'em flatter than a mealybread!" shouted someone on the opposite side of the corridor.
Mika forced himself to hold his concentration until he knew for certain that the spell had worked.
The noise grew even louder. The wolves milled around the cell restlessly: the princess whined, Tarn growled, and RedTail panted heavily. And there! There in the window were the waving antennae of a rust monster! No, two! No, three, four, five sets of antennaes flicked across the bars of the window! Tarn flung himself at the bars, barking hysterically. It was all that Mika could do to hold the two male wolves back. The princess seemed to have no liking for the rust monsters either and contented herself with angry barking.
Cheers rang throughout the building. Mika guessed that the strange little creatures were swarming over the prison, tasting each of the bars. Mika hoped, no, prayed, that there were enough of them to do the job.
Mika broke off chanting and sat down wearily on the floor. The casting of spells was a difficult business, mentally as well as physically hard on the caster. Mika felt as though he could sleep for a fortnight, but he knew that it was not possible if he wished to live.
The window was totally obscured now by a mass of wriggling, squeaking creatures who nibbled, licked, chewed, and crunched on the closely spaced bars.
Tam whined nervously, and the princess's voice grew hoarse. RedTail stared fixedly at the window with narrow, slitted eyes.
Abruptly Tam looked up at the ceiling and whined. Mika glanced at him and wondered what he sensed.