You did not care whether you would bring the queen's wrath down on us, hey? " "We weren't really planning to land on an island with people on it," I admitted. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Gilbert's scowl had darkened, and that he had noticeably #erked up a bit. I did not think that was an entirely favorable sign.

"But you have landed on an island with people! And if we let you go free, Suettay's wrath will fall on us! Will it not?"

His men stirred around him, muttering.

"There's a chance of it," I admitted. "But, if we get some fresh water, and a little rest, and food, we can be away before dawn tomorrow.

The queen doesn't even have to know we were here." And to Gilbert, "We're outnumbered, you know."

"When has that ever given you pause?" Gilbert asked.

The duke scowled, but decided not to notice him. "There is something in what you say-if you speak truly."

"Oh, I do!" I said, with alacrity. "Believe me-there is absolutely no reason to doubt my veracity!"

"Yes," the duke said. "And surely you would say just that if you lied. In truth, the more false your words, the more you will swear they are true."

I drew myself up with maximum indignation. "Are you saying I'm a liar? " "I am saying that I wish you to prove the truth of your words. I stared at him, trying to think of a proof. Finally, I shook my head.

"I can't. I am telling the truth, mind you-but, prove it? Short of bringing the queen here to testify, I can't think of a way."

"No, and I think she would be a grumbly guest," the duke said, with grim humor. "Yet if you cannot think of a way to prove your truth, be assured that we can."

"And that is?" I asked, with foreboding. Somehow, I had a notion that the duke's idea of proof wouldn't exactly delight Euclid.

"The Ordeal," the duke said, and I could hear the capital. "One of you must undergo the Ordeal, that the others may go free."

"Me," I said, without even stopping to think-which was a good thing, because Gilbert was one syllable behind me.

"I shall!"

The duke nodded, a slight smile curving his lips. "You have said it," he said to me. "It is your portion!"

"But I-" Gilbert started, before Angelique drowned him Out.

"Ohhhh, nooooo!" She threw herself between me and the duke, her substance wavering, growing brighter and dimmer as she tried to hold his attention. "You have no way of knowing what manner of horrible things this Ordeal may hold, my love! Oh, nay, Lord Duke, do not submit him to the torture! You cannot, you must not! He is a good man, he is truthful in all he says and does, he is not deserving of such horrid treatment!"

Gilbert stared, flabbergasted.

"Gently, gently," I soothed. I caught her hands, wishing I could feel them, and summoned up every ounce of reassurance I could. "I'll survive, never you fear. And as to pain and torture, why, I expect I've withstood worse. Right, milord?"

The duke stood with a face of flint. "What manner of man are you, that you have won the love of a ghost?"

"A wizard," I answered.

"But one not wise." Nonetheless, the duke nodded. "Still, it speaks well for you that your friends are so quick to leap to your defense."

"There, I knew it," I said quickly. "You see? It'll be all right ...

Gilbert, help the lady, will you? There now, darling, don't worry. I've been though tortures before."

"But there is no need! You are an honorable man!" she cried, then collapsed weeping into Gilbert's arms. He held her up and turned her away, his face a study in consternation.

"You will take them to their boat," the duke informed Vincentio.

"Bid them sail, and watch till they've gone from sight."

Vincentio nodded, and his band closed around my companions, hiding them from view.

I didn't even get to watch them out of sight, myself; the duke took me by the elbow and turned me away, leading me back across the drawbridge and into the castle. "So, then, you come. And begin your Ordeal, yes?"

"Of course," I said, feeling somewhat numb. At least the duke wasn't gloating about it. I took that to mean he wasn't a sadist-so things could have been worse.

Couldn't they,' As we passed through the huge portal into the keep, a shadow moved, and I thought I recognized the Gremlin's silhouette-but I hoped I was wrong. I'd far rather he was with Angelique and the boys.

I didn't think the sprite could do much for me, but he could make the difference between freedom and capture for my friends.

But it would have been nice to know I wasn't completely alone.

Besides, how bad could the Ordeal be? I eyed the duke, again taking in the astrological signs on his gown and the snaky staff. He wasn't completely gone over to black magic, that was obvious. Using some aspects of it, maybe, but not wholly dedicated to it yetplaying the old game, thinking he could take what he wanted of the Devil's power without giving anything of himself.

I halted, shocked. Was that what I was trying to do?

Certainly not. There had to be a distinction. Had to.

That was it-I wasn't trying to use the Devil's power. Or God's, for that matter, though I wasn't doing as well there-I had called on a saint or two, now and then, and even recited a prayer or two directly to the Top. As an equivocator, I wasn't doing so well. Could be the duke was better at the balancing act.

Or maybe he wasn't even the equivocator he seemed to be. Maybe he was a white magician who was only borrowing a few diabolical symbols.

And being tempted. Sorely.

The duke led me up to the battlements so I could watch the longboat put out to sea. I could just barely make out the little black dots that were heads, but the duke was true to his word. My friends, at least, were safe.

"Now you come," the duke said, and led me down the stairs.

And down.

And down.

Somewhere below the dungeons, in a pool of torchlight, we stopped.

Before us, a stone slab rose up from the floor, knee-high, six feet long, and four feet wide. I eyed it warily and decided it was too low to be an altar. Which was a definite comfort to me, as the peasants stripped off my shirt and started tying me down.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

The duke hit the floor with the heel of his staff. It struck with a huge, booming reverberation, out of all proportion to its size. Then he thrust it up high, swirling its tip above his head in a widening he lix and calling out. The call became rhythmical, settling into a chant.

I frowned, straining to understand; the language sure wasn't the one I'd been hearing. It seemed older somehow, kind of like Latin.

Latin! Once I realized that, I was able to catch the occasional cognate. "Sun," that word had to be, and "heat," which made senseand sure as taxes that next one had to be "water," or a near relative.

days" after it? Wasn't that That was a number-five! And was that ".

a negative suffix, though ? But why negative? ...

The duke finished his chant, brandishing his staff again, and the peasants repeated the verse; the cavern boomed with it. Then all of a sudden they went quiet, and the duke shouted out a last sentence, punctuating it by slamming his staff against the floor again ...

Where the heel struck the rock, an explosion blossomed in silence, a burst of searing white light against the cavern's gloom, swelling, expanding, filling the chamber ...

it was the sun.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the glare; afterimages danced. I gave my eyes time to adjust to the crimson, then opened them just a little, squinting.

I was still lashed to the rock-but it was surrounded by miles of sand. Heat waves shimmered about me, and the sky was a brazen coin in pitiless blue. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and the heat baked me as if I were in an oven. I could have sworn I could feel the rock heating up below me, and I was already bathed in sweat.

Suddenly, the significance of the duke's "five days" hit me-I was supposed to stay bound to this stone bed for a hundred and twenty hours! And the negative suffix was about water!

In panic, I realized Frisson had been right-like it or not, I'd have to try to work magic on my own. Call it working within the frame of reference of the hallucination, call it selling out, call it whatever you like-I was going to have to do it, or die.

Preferably without drawing on either the powers of good, or of evil.

I tried to think of some verse that would stop my sweat glands-I was going to need every ounce of water my body held. Then I remembered that without sweat, I would overheat in an hour.

Decisions, decisions!

It was going to be a long day.

I decided it had been a long day already, but the sun was still ominously close to the zenith. My tongue felt like a piece of leather, and my skin felt about right for writing. How long had it really been-an hour? Maybe less?

No matter-I wasn't going to last the day, and I had a notion my body was going to stay there without me for at least twenty-four hours.

I had to have water, fast-or something to drink, anyway.

What I wouldn't have given now, for a cola ...

Inspiration struck. Commercial jingles! Could I remember one?

Could I ever forget?

Could I talk enough to recite it?

I smacked my lips, or tried to-and found I couldn't get them to open. In desperation, I worked my cheeks, trying to pump up some saliva-but nothing came. Panic began to grow, but I forced it down sternly while I kept working my cheeks ...

Pain lanced through my lower lip. Blast! I'd bitten it again.

It hurt, on top of everything else, and I tasted blood ...

Blood.

Moisture.

I moved the tip of my swelling tongue against the inside of my lips, pushed hard-and they opened. I took a deep breath ...

And the blood dried up.

Quickly, before my mouth could seal up again, I cried, "Drink Sass-Pa-Rilla, like a man, In the bottle, in the can!

Right from the store, into my hand!"

Something slapped into my palm, something cold and wet. I breathed a sigh of relief and started to bring it to my lips ...

My hand wouldn't move.

it was tied over my head.

I bit down against anger, and called up a verse: "Unravel the cord, and untie the knot!

Loosen the binding, for bind it shall not!"

I felt a writhing about my wrists and ankles that made my innards twist in revulsion. Sternly, I schooled my stomach; it was only the ropes untying themselves-I hoped. I lifted the arm with the soda in it, experimentally ...

it lifted. And was instantly filled with a hundred hot needles.

I let the arm fall back, groaning with agony. But I had to get at that soda. I lifted again, but the effort made my body roll, and I finished up scraping the can across the stone toward my mouth. I made it, and my teeth closed on aluminum.

just aluminum. No soda.

I had forgotten to open the can.

I just lay there a second, marveling at my own stupidity. Then, with another groan and a great deal more stabbing pain, this time in the upper arms, shoulders, and chest, I managed to work my way up onto my elbows and achieve the stupendous feat of hooking a finger through the ring. I pulled; the top popped; I bowed my head and lifted, and a splash of soothing, chilly Sass-Pa-Rilla flowed into my mouth. Most of that first shot ran down my chin and sizzled onto the rock, but enough of it sloshed into my mouth to fill me with the blessed, icy taste, burning the cut where I'd bitten my lip. My throat worked, and I felt the trail of cold all the way down into my stomach.

I sighed, lifted the can, and took a real swallow. I had never known a commercial product could taste so good and decided I'd never make a joke about Sass-Pa-Rilla again.

Which was very good because, as I lifted the can, it disappeared.

I stared at my cupped and empty hand as if it had betrayed me.

Then I curled it into a fist, feeling the anger rise. Not my hand, but somebody else, some person, had betrayed me-and I had a notion who.

The duke had decided he didn't want the rules changed. I didn't feel sorry for him; after all, I'd told him I was a wizard before he tried hanging me out to dry. He shouldn't have been so sure I couldn't survive@yen though, come to think of it, I wasn't all that sure of it, myself.

But I was also a wizard who was going to need a little help to fight back-and whatever I was going to do, I was going to have to do it quickly, before the spurt of energy from the cold drink wore off.