Inside the walls were all the working parts of a castle that someone would not want to transport up narrow stairs cut inside a cliff: the stables, the kennels, the armor shop, the mews, the kitchens, and the big grain storage bins. Down at the far end stood a set of gibbets; this castellan did indeed practice high justice.
We waited politely for someone to come meet us, but for a few minutes there was only panicked shouting and scurrying. I even wondered momentarily if some bizarre spell had made everyone here think that we were dragons. But a quick probe found no spells other than my own.
After a while, one of the soldiers came back. “Are- Are they dead?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I paralyzed them with magic.”
He hesitated. Something very odd indeed, I thought, was happening here. Did they think we were another band of ruffians ourselves? But if so, why did they make no effort to resist us?
“You’d better go up to the castle,” the soldier said at last, “and talk to the constable.”
There was a brief pause while we tried to decide if it was possible to carry the bandits up the stairs. Finally I broke the spells that held them. They looked disoriented and confused as we untied them from the pack horses, then pulled them to their feet and tied their hands behind them. As we started up toward the castle, Ascelin, Dominic, and Hugo each had a bandit in front of him, a dagger point resting against the back of his neck.
The first flight of stairs was wide enough to give us few problems, even though the steps were uneven and extremely dark. There were no windows, and we had to feel our way. The sandstone walls were gritty on either hand, and I heard Dominic cursing quietly as he bumped his head.
We came out into what appeared to be a guard room cut into the stone. A single window gave a little light. On the far side, the stairs started up again, much narrower and even darker.
The soldier leading us glanced at Dominic and Ascelin. “We’d better take the outside stairs,” he said.
The bandits, who had said nothing, all turned toward a door set in the room’s outer wall, next to the window. The soldier opened the door, which led to wooden stairs built on scaffolding on the outside of the cliff. These were much wider than the inner stairs though the gaps between steps made them potentially treacherous.
I glanced down as we came out into chilly daylight and saw that we were already forty feet up. This was indeed an admirable castle for war. Even if an enemy made it as far as the guard room, he would still have to climb either the narrow, inner stairs, which could easily be blocked, or the outer, wooden stairs, which could be set on fire.
But how had the bandits known that the doorway led to the stairs?
All of us except the bandits were breathing hard when we reached the top of the cliff and entered the castle itself through another door. We came into a great hall, well lit by tall windows looking out in all directions across the countryside.
“They can afford windows, being up so high,” I heard Dominic say appreciatively to Ascelin. “In Yurt, all our windows open onto the courtyard.”
But I was thinking about the bandits rather than castle architecture. Was it because they been captured and brought here for justice so many times that they had known where the stairs were and had been able to climb them so readily, even with daggers pressed against their necks? If so, why had they not yet been hung?
The constable of the castle came forward, looking at us with wide eyes. “What- What is it that you want?”
King Haimeric greeted him formally and told him what had happened. I was pleased to note that he did not say that he was king of Yurt; maybe he, like me, was starting to wonder if the castellan here had made some nefarious pact with the bandits.
“And so,” finished the king, “we are bringing these bandits to your lord for judgment.” The three bandits, listening, all looked unaccountably amused.
“You caught these men,” said the constable, “but you aren’t trying to ransom them? You brought them here- You brought them so that the lord of this castle might exercise justice?”
“That’s what I said,” said the king patiently.
“But-”
The leader of the bandits answered for the constable. “But
There was a short silence while we all struggled to keep our faces straight. “In that case,” began King Haimeric sternly, “I must warn you, as an aristocrat and a giver of justice, to stop your wicked attacks on the defenseless.”
It was no use. Dominic took the king firmly by the arm, and we all got out the door and staggered down the stairs somehow. Even Joachim was laughing as we tumbled out into the courtyard.
But as we galloped away from the castle, I couldn’t help glancing back. The castellan’s initial reaction had been the same amusement that convulsed us all, but he must also have been horribly shamed to appear before his men a bound captive. For the first time this trip, we may have come across a difficulty we could not simply leave behind.
PART TWO — KING SOLOMON’S PEARL
I
I awoke all at once and lay perfectly still, waiting for whatever sound had wakened me to come again.
Inside the tent it was pitch black and completely silent. I couldn’t even hear Joachim’s breathing. But then I heard the faintest creak from his side of the tent; he must have heard the sound as well and be leaning on his elbows, listening.
It came again, the sharp crack of a broken twig followed by muffled hushing sounds. Our tents were pitched in a little grove, and someone, or something, was creeping up on us.
I was out of the tent with a quick scramble and was hit by air so cold I immediately wished I had brought a blanket with me.
But there wasn’t time to go back. Where was Dominic? It should be his watch. Shivering in my pajamas, I crept toward the edge of the grove, straining to see.
The moon, three days past the full, hung red and deformed-looking above me. In its pale light I could at last see Dominic, a dim and bulky form. He moved his head as though he too had heard something.
Before I could speak or move closer, there was a dull thunk as of leather hitting bone, a grunt, and Dominic pitched forward. Behind him stood a smaller figure, arm upraised.
I yelled, a magically-amplified yell that shook the trees, and I filled the grove with a great flash of light. The light was gone in two seconds-even the best magic light needs to be attached to something solid. But before it faded I had seen four startled and frozen figures, and Dominic’s body face down on the ground.
If they remained still for five seconds, I had them. I threw out coils of magic, shaped with the Hidden Language to make thin air into bindings as strong as cord. My binding spell wrapped around the four, imprisoning them. It was not as thorough as a paralysis spell, but I didn’t have enough time for a paralysis spell.
I tried another flash of light and saw that I had all four. It must be, I realized, no more than a minute since I had scrambled out of the tent. In spite of the cold, I had to wipe my forehead with a pajama sleeve. Magic, especially rapid magic, is hard work.
But what had happened to Dominic? I groped toward him, then saw the rest of our party emerging. Hugo and Ascelin had swords in their hands, but the king, more usefully, had brought a lantern.
With the lantern’s light, I found the royal nephew and bent over him. He was breathing loudly, eyes shut. As I watched, his eyes flickered, and his fists clenched. Not dead then, I thought gratefully, as I took the jacket Joachim handed me.
“Look at this!” called Hugo, who had gone back for a lantern of his own. “It’s the same bandits!”
Indeed it was the same bandits, their faces distorted by the shadows cast by a lantern at their feet. Struggling unsuccessfully against the binding spell, they glared at us silently.
“What was your intention?” the king asked them sternly. “We let you go today out of courtesy to other aristocrats, but what sort of honorable and aristocratic behavior is this? Were you going to take vengeance on us for
