"Now, Jorian," said Goania Aristor's daughter, in the tone of an aunt setting a wayward nephew to rights, "sit down and tell all. What's this wild tale of your rolling into the ducal park in a tub on wheels, and there slaying the Grand Duke's prize unicorn?"
Jorian laughed. "It wasn't like that, albeit what truly befell us was quite as strange." He plunged into the story of his escape from Iraz in the demon-borne tub, his failure to abduct Estrildis, and his unwitting landing in the park. When he told of his imprisonment, Gwiderius said:
"I am shocked, Jorian! Prison management was supposed to have been reformed; I was on the committee to make recommendations to the Grand Duke. But I see things have slipped back into their usual rut. True, persons like this bailiff are not always of highest character, but we cannot permit such persecution of one who is not even tried! I shall get word of this to His Grace."
Jorian thought a moment and said: "Thanks, but you had better let the matter lie, Doctor. If I meet Malgo alone, I may take him on at fisticuffs; but meanwhile the less I'm involved with the ducal court the better. Someone might get the idea of selling me to the Xylarian Regency for enough to equip another squadron of lancers."
Rhuys served their dinners. Later, Jorian said: "Let's talk of how I shall get my darling Estrildis out of her gilded cage. I cannot raise an army to besiege the city, and our flying bathtub is out of service. What else can be had in flying spells?"
"Well" said Karadur, "there is Sir Fendix's flying broom, and Antonerius's tame wyvern, and Cod's spell, whereby he changes himself into a vulture. But all have shortcomings. Fendix has twice been nearly slain when his broom went out of control; it is subject to something he terms a 'tailspin.' The wyvern is but half domesticated and may yet devour Antonerius at one gulp. And Coel is said to have sold his soul into a thousand years' bondage on the Third Plane in return for his shape-changing power. Nay, I see no good prospect for another aerial assault. Besides, the Xylarians will have posted guards on the roof."
"Then we should need more than just me," said Jorian. "I wonder—"
Goania spoke up: "Meseems the Xylarians, fearing another raid from the air, would have moved your queen to some less-exposed place."
Jorian grunted. "You make sense as usual, my dear aunt. How shall we find out?"
"Leave it to me," said the wizardess. "Is this tabletop clean? Good. I shall probe the Xylarian palace. You!" she spoke to a pot boy. "Fetch me a clean towel, pray."
With the towel she wiped the inside of her empty wine glass. Then she dropped a pinch of green powder into the glass. She muttered an incantation, whereupon the powder smoldered and sent up a thread of purple smoke.
"Break not one of Rhuys's best glasses!" said Jorian.
"Hush, boy!" She leaned over the glass and inhaled. For some moments she sat with her eyes closed. Then she muttered:
"It is dark… nay, there is a light, a yellow light… the light of an oil lamp… I am in an underground chamber… there is a door with iron bars. The walls are of rough stone, as in a cell or dungeon… but there are hangings on the walls and a carpet on the floor, as if the place had been made more comfortable… I see a small, blond woman, seated at what appears to be a dressing table… she seems to be sewing. The scene blurs, as if some force were pushing my second sight away. All over!"
She took deep breaths and opened her eyes. Jorian said: "Methinks I know where she is, in the largest cell of our dungeon. But how shall I gain access thereto?"
"Has the palace no secret tunnels?" asked Gwiderius. "Palaces and castles ofttimes possess them, to let the chief man escape if the stronghold falls to a foe."
"Nay," said Jorian. "I investigated when I was king, since such an exit would have let me flee their beheading ceremony. But though I prowled the lower parts of the palace, tapped the walls, and consulted the oldest plans of the edifice, no trace of an escape tunnel could I find. It had been futile to ask the Xylarians to dig me one, since their efforts were devoted to thwarting my escape."
"Could one dig such a tunnel from the outside and bore through the cell wall with miner's tools?" asked Goania.
"Conceivable but not likely. One would have either to start outside the city, or take a house inside and bore down through the floor and then on a level until one reached the palace. Such a task would take months, and I doubt if I could remain undetected so long. For example, one would have to dispose of the dirt dug from the tunnel without arousing suspicion. Since Xylar City is built on soft, alluvial soil, one must bring in timber to line one's tunnel and shore it up, lest it collapse on one.
"Then how could one be sure of reaching the right underground chamber? With but a slight error in deduced reckoning, one might break into the armory or the treasury instead of Estrildis's chamber. And wherever one broke in, it would be a noisy process, which would alert the guards.
"Finally, unless the Xylarian spy system have deteriorated since my day, any such doings would soon come to the ears of the Regency Council. And then…" Jorian brought the edge of his hand sharply against his neck.
"What then?" said Karadur.
"Since the Xylarians have blocked the avenues to direct assault, I suppose we must resort to magic. What can our professionals of the occult offer?"
Goania and Karadur exchanged glances. The wizardess said: "Alas, I am more a seer than a thaumaturge or sorcerer. I have no means of getting your lass out of an underground cell."
"Couldn't you," Jorian asked Karadur, "somehow recall Gorax from the Fifth Plane?"
"Nay, my son. My sorcerous powers are straitly limited. I obtained control of Gorax through a colleague, Doctor Valdonius, whom you remember from Tarxia. I saved him from a magical predicament, and in gratitude he transferred Gorax, whom he had evoked, to me and imprisoned the demon in this ring."
"How about other demons?"
Karadur shrugged. "Nay; 'tis not my specialty."
Jorian growled: "My two great magical experts seem to have proven a rope of sand. Know you one whom you would trust for such an operation?"
tjwiderius spoke: "One of my fellow pedants at the Academy, Doctor Abacarus, might help."
"What is his line of work?"
"He is professor of occult philosophy, and I believe he performs sorcerous experiments on the side. If you wish, I will present you to him."
"I do wish, thank you," said Jorian. "The sooner the better."
Karadur yawned. "Forgive me, gentles, for interrupting this congenial evening; but an old man wearies fast. I shall withdraw, leaving the rest to enjoy—"
"Karadur!" said Goania. "You shan't remain here tonight. I would fain discuss a new method of astral projection with you; so you shall pass the night at my house."
Jorian spoke up: "Well, Mistress Goania, if you are taking Doctor Karadur—"
"I cannot also accommodate you, young sir," she said sharply. "For one, there is not enough room; for two, the doctor threatens not my repute, whereas a lusty, young springald like you indubitably would. Come along, Karadur. Come, Boso and Vanora. Good night all!"
She swept out, followed by the others. Gwiderius soon excused himself also.
Jorian had just gotten his boots off when there came a knock. "Who is it?" he asked.
"I, Vanora. Pray let me in!"
Jorian unbarred the door. She entered, saying: "Oh, Jorian, how good it is to see you again! What a fool I was not to have kept my grip on you when I had you!"
"Whence got you that black eye?" asked Jorian.
"Boso gave it. We had a dispute this morn."
"The bastard! Do you want me to give him one?"
"Nay. So long as I'm his leman, I must betimes endure his fist."
"What caused it?"
"Forsooth, 'twas not wholly his fault, for I had sorely provoked the lout."