Outside his cell, Doltandon recovered everything he had lost. Straighter, more confident, and less patient, he said, “Thank you for the helpful word, Dirant.”

  “Not at all, and that is not the limit of my desire to assist you in your proposed endeavor, which promises to be a boon for you, Mr. Atkosol, and Mr. Medant together, to list them in the order of my fond feeling for them only reversed. I further intend to strengthen your speech's power by correcting the sad absence of any visible signs of mistreatment.”

  “I don't get what you mean.”

  “I do. All right, Ressi, I have a hold on him.”

  “What? Ow! Ungh!”

  Takki recommended that Doltandon shut his mouth while Dirant worked him over to prevent any tongue-biting. The other mercenaries, for their part, offered tips to Dirant concerning techniques optimal for raising a black eye and welts noticeable from a good distance. Neither did he neglect to incorporate their advice into the beating, reasoning that his ulterior motive did not exclude achieving the ostensible goal. Owing to a zealous amateur implementation, Doltandon soon became what Dirant judged to be an excellent example of a picturesque victim, obviously subjected to hardship but not in such a way that people recoiled from the sight. Informed of that, Doltandon requested a mirror.

  “Gaze rather on this polished armor,” Onsalkant Tlol offered, and indeed the protection which covered the Brawny Knight's back, broader than a philosopher's views, allowed Doltandon a reflective surface adequate for that use.

  “Eminently satisfactory,” he said. He then waited for the mercenaries to escort him to the front of the stronghold that he might pursue his promised course. The escorts did not think of themselves as such, but neither does a grazing cow appreciate its eventual purpose.

  Takki hung back when the procession began after Skadlif assured himself that every profitable prisoner was freed. She pulled Dirant back with her to ask, “What about your satisfaction, Ressi? How eminent is it?”

  “Enough for its biographer to start his work while still it lives. My feelings of aggrievement have departed to make room for pride in workmanship, and now my earnest wish is for Mr. Doltandon to impress his audience and thereby give tribute to my skill in facial reconfiguration. There is this one regret, that I am unsure if I have thanked you sufficiently for encouraging me to jump on the better horse.”

  “You're welcome. Is that a saying?”

  “No, but it seems the sort of thing a Dvanjchtliv might say, and the recent heroic struggle calls that tribe to mind.”

  “It really does. Oh, but while we're talking, I want to dissuade you from getting too carried away by good feeling. Mr. Doltandon is still a scoundrel and you shouldn't trust him. I have one more thing to say.”

  “And that is what?”

  “You know.” With eyes turned away and nervously shifting feet, Takki resembled a child within accusation range of a broken bowl. Her height contributed to the impression as well.

  He did not. “Is it not pleasant to have the matter clearer than the clearest pool and bluer than the same, redder than the youngest blood and thicker than the oldest? That is from a goslikenar rather than being an adage.”

  “Is it as violent as it sounds? Never mind that for now. I think I should give you some boxing instruction. Oh, just for my own, um, my own something.”

  Dirant, at last comprehending, laughed. “Ah, there is no need to be so circumspect. Please recall it was Miss Gelfid who skipped archery practice. I was simply bad at it. I punch just as badly I know, and I'm not opposed to improvement. I may even be eager to have your instruction, though I cannot presently be sure of that.”

  “Right, of course. Whew! Ressi, they've left us behind. Come on!” She skipped ahead with Dirant behind, his thoughts divided between negotiating the unfamiliar stairs and debating whether to remind Takki who caused whom to be left behind. Since his mood at the moment did not permit him even to conceive of displeasure, he refrained.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  A single narrow path, barely less winding than the rear trail abused by the attackers for the opposite of its intended role, permitted access to the main entrance, above which the wall rose tall and straight. From the wall-walk the defenders, had they not been subdued already, could have looked out and taken heart at the many defensive positions artifice had provided them and how well they were manned by small squads of fairies commanded by the remaining brigands. Aside from towers and archery platforms hidden by leaves, crews were ready to wheel fearsome engines out from their pseudo-caves which were sure to surprise any frontal assault. Altogether the number of robbers unaware of the events crucial to their prospects which had transpired behind them nearly matched that already vanquished. Had they been present in the fortress, they might have caused considerable distress to the Silken Gull Squad. As Auemoieu said, “Gets hard to move that packed.”

  The path's twists notwithstanding, the fortress directly faced the plain on which Gelfid had assembled a sliver of Ydridd's forces. “Twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five . . .” Doltandon made his count audibly so as to assure his new business associates he was doing something and not because he had any trouble with the calculations. He completed them quicker than anyone else in fact. “The part of the army our charming Miss Gelfid brought with her, ladies and gentlemen, is actually the whole of it. Hello!”

  For all that an army coming up the road would have a long and difficult journey, the direct distance between the two might have been less than the length of the fortress. Doltandon, shouting, assured his loyal followers of his rescue while Skadlif, shouting and holding Ksori over the side like a soggy blanket, convinced the unsubdued bandits that among all the possible actions a person might take, the circumstances compelled them to choose one of two, either surrender or flight. Most condottieri preferred their opponents opt for the latter except when their contracts specified otherwise; Skadlif explained such in explicit terms for listeners unfamiliar with typical mercenary captain practices.

  Not even a Picker could determine which of the two efforts succeeded more completely, since the evaporation of Ksori's remaining force could be measured in number of seconds elapsed while the attachment of Ydridd's former army to Doltandon was expressed in less discrete units such as the jubilation the soldiers felt at his appearance and the flood of tears they produced. The scene resembled the debut of a goslikenar belonging to one of those genres such that the producer considers it a failure if nobody in the audience faints.

  The joy of Doltandon's fairies and recruits doubled when he skidded down the trail to join them, tripled when he introduced the host to his fellow sufferers along with their intrepid rescuers, and reached a multiple only recognized mathematicians dared name when he proposed marching on the lake district that very day, unseating Queen Ydridd, and ransacking her inexplicable treasury.

  “I proposed a slightly different plan before,” he admitted to Skadlif. “The inestimable Miss Gelfid exceeded my expectations, and how can I do otherwise but adjust my ambitions accordingly? I hesitate to suggest you do the same.” Seeing Skadlif's impassive expression, he decided to elaborate. “The castle is full of spoils. Just unbelievably stuffed. Mr. Dirant will tell you.”

  Mr. Dirant did tell him. “It is true, though the usual cautions in regard to fairy items must pertain. In addition, the most impressive attractions of the castle are not removable without the aid of several hundred laborers and a few spare months.”

  The commander called for a conference of the Silken Gull Squad wherein the members adopted by universal agreement the attitude that they could bear to take a look at least. If making use of fairy transportation, for one among them to deposit the freed captives in Ividottlof and receive official recognition of such from the deputy mayor was a matter of no more moment than returning a book to the library.

  “I have to convert the Battle of the Bandit King into a song right now,” objected Wiuyo, who had appeared as agreed.

  “Another battle will follow in all likelihood.” Reassured by Skadlif, she, he, and the prisoners disappeared.

  The mercenaries marched beside the army, which maintained better order than Dirant had ever seen in any formation which consisted of at least a third fairies. The soldier whose behavior comported the least with discipline was shockingly a human, the second-in command in fact, whose intense sobbing detracted from her marching technique.

  “That a significant share of the spoils descends on her seems only just,” Dirant mused, “though that is not the sole reason I don't believe it will.”

  “I agree with you, Ressi. We can't depend on the old fairy stories to be accurate about items that suddenly vanish, I know that, but if somebody ever got to preserve a magnificent fairy treasure, it would have shown up somewhere. Governments have tax and fines records, families have budgets, and there's no motive for concealment. They would have bragged about it. I'll brag about it if this goes well.”

  Half the mercenaries concurred readily with Takki's analysis while the other half concurred reluctantly. “A dream is not easily undreamt,” a Reciter declaimed with wistfulness impossible for any but the heartless not to share, and only the wealthiest of the heartless at that.

  The procession had barely cleared the borderlands and broken into the fertile lake district, every participant imagining the castle inside its unwaterlike lake already subjected to their depredations, when it halted upon meeting a party headed the other way. An exceedingly large party which in fairyland must be considered an army.