Smash watched, still angry, but with the sense not to protest as long as the guards were holding off. Then Irene stepped into her cell, the guards slammed the door shut and barred it, and the crisis was over.
“You should have run out of the dungeon!” Dor said with angry relief.
“I couldn’t leave you,” she replied. “Where would I find another like you?” Dor wasn’t certain quite how to take that; was it a compliment or a deprecation?
King Oary himself seemed shaken. “Sgzs fhqkr mns tnnkx adztshetk, rgd gzr ehfgshmf rohqhs,” he said. “Cwn’s gtqs gdq; H Itrs ehme z trd enq gdq.” He turned about and marched out of the dungeon, followed by his henchmen. The translator, though still uncomfortable, had to remain where he thought he was just out of sight, to eavesdrop some more. The dungeon settled back into its normal gloom.
They were plotting something worse, Dor knew, but at least Irene had escaped unhurt, and the secret of their magic had been preserved, at least in part. The Mundanes knew the prisoners had magic, but still had not fathomed its mechanism. It was a temporary respite, but much better than nothing.
“I think we’d better get out of here soon,” Irene said as the Mundanes departed. “Give me your hand.”
What was she contemplating this time? Dor passed his hand through the crevice.
She took it in her own and kissed it. That was nice enough, though he found himself obscurely disappointed. She had lost her jacket and blouse She took his wrist in her hand and had him spread his fingers.
Then she put something into his hand. Dor almost exclaimed with surprise, for it was hard and cold and heavy.
It was the iron bar.
Of course! In their confusion, the guards had forgotten that Irene retained the bar she had picked up. Now Dor had this useful tool or weapon. Maybe he could lever open his door from the inside.
But a guard was in the hall, probably the translator, though there could have been a change. Dor didn’t dare try the door now; he would have to wait. In fact, he could not risk prying at any other part of the cell, for the noise would alert the guard and call attention to his possession of the bar. So, for now, they had to wait-and there were things he wanted to tell Irene.
“You were awfully brave,” he said. “You faced up to those thugs-“
“I was scared almost speechless,” she confessed. That was surely an overstatement; she had traded jibes with the translator quite neatly.
“But I knew they’d hurt you if-“
“Hurt me! It was you they-“
“Well, I worry about you, Dor. You wouldn’t be able to manage without me.”
She was teasing him-maybe. “I like your new outfit,” he said. “But maybe you’d better take my jacket.”
“Maybe so,” she agreed. “It’s cool here.”
Dor removed his centaur jacket and squeezed it through the crevice. She donned it, and was quite fetching in it, though it tended to fall open in front. Or perhaps that was why he found it so fetching.
At least the jacket would protect her from the cold and from the attack of instruments like swords or spears, because it was designed to resist penetration. And it wouldn’t hurt to have her body concealed from the lecherous eyes of the King and his henchmen; Dor’s jealousy of such things remained in force.
Grundy reappeared. “I got a seed,” he said. “The bag’s in the King’s chamber, along with the magic sword. I knew it was safe to sneak in there, because the King was down here. But I couldn’t carry the whole bag. Couldn’t find the magic compass at all; they must have thrown that away. So I picked out what looked like a good seed.”
“Give it here,” Irene said eagerly. “Yes-this is a tangler. If I could start it and drop it in the hall-“
“But you can’t,” Dor said. “Not without-“ He caught himself, for the eavesdropper was surely eavesdropping.
“I have an idea,” Dor said. “Suppose we brought a part of you-know-who here-would it have a little magic, enough to start one seed?”
Irene considered. “A piece of hoof, maybe. I don’t know. It’s worth a try.”
“I’m on my way,” Grundy said.
“I always thought girls were supposed to be timid and sweet and to scream helplessly at the mere sight of trouble,” Dor said. “But you-those guards-“
“You saw too much of Millie the Ghost. Real girls aren’t like that, except when they want to be.”
“You certainly aren’t! But I never thought you’d risk your life like that.”
“Are you disappointed?”
Dor considered. “No. You’re a lot more girl-more woman than I thought. I guess I do need you. If I didn’t love you before, I do now. And not because of your looks-though when it comes to that-“
“Really?” she asked, sounding like an excited girl.
“Well, I could be overreacting because of our imprisonment.”
“I liked it better unqualified,” she said.
“Oh, sure. Uh, I think you’re beautiful. But-“
“Then we’d better check again after we get out of this, to see if we feel the same. No sense being hasty.”
Dor was shaken. “You have doubts?”
“Well, I might meet a handsomer man.”
“Uh, yes,” Dor said unhappily.
She laughed. “I’m teasing you. Girls are smarter about appearances than boys are. We go for quality rather than packaging. I have no doubt at all. I love you, Dor. I never intended to marry anyone else. But I refuse to take advantage of you when you’re unsettled. Maybe when you get older you’ll change your mind.”
“You’re younger than I am!”
“Girls mature faster. Hadn’t you noticed?”
Now Dor laughed. “Just today, I noticed!”
She kissed his hand again. “Well, it’s all yours, when.”
When. Dor Considered the ramification of that, and felt warm all over.
She had a body, true-but what pleased him most was the loyalty implied. She would be with him, she would support him, whatever happened. Dor realized he needed that support; he really would foul up on his own. Irene was strong, when not jarred by an acute crisis; she had nerve he lacked. Her personality complemented his, shoring up his weakness. She was the one who had gotten them going on this rescue mission; her determination to rescue her father had never relented. With her at his side, he could indeed be King.
His reflections were interrupted by the return of the golem. “I got three hairs from his tail,” he whispered. “He’s very vain about his tail, like all his breed; it’s his best feature. Maybe they’ll be enough.”
Did some magic adhere to portions of the centaur that were removed from his body? Dor brought out his midnight sunstone gem and held it close to the hairs. Almost, he thought, he saw a gleam of light, deep within the crystal. But maybe that was a reflection from the wan illumination of the cell.
“Take them in to Irene,” Dor said, hardly allowing himself to hope.
Grundy did so. Irene set the seed down on the tail hairs and leaned close. “Grow,” she breathed.
They were disappointed. The seed seemed to try, to swell expectantly, but could not grow. There was not enough magic.
“Maybe if I took it back to Amolde,” Grundy said.
Irene was silent, and Dor realized she was stifling her tears. She had really hoped her magic would work.
“Yes, try that,” Dor told the golem. “Maybe the seed has been started. Maybe it just needs more magic now.”
Grundy took the seed and the tail hairs and departed again. Dor reached through the crevice to pat Irene on the shoulder. “It was worth the try,” he said.
She clutched his hand. “I need you, Dor. When I collapse, you just keep on going.”
There was that complementary aspect again. She would soon recover her determination and nerve, but in the interim she needed to be steadied.
They remained that way for what seemed like a long time, and despite the despair they both felt, Dor would not have traded it. Somehow this privation enhanced their personal liaison, making their love bum more fiercely and
