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With the stab of pain past, Lontar began to boast. "Why, I mind me that I once cast a curse upon a wench who spurned me, so that, henceforth, she would seek to feed upon any who did thereafter seek to befriend her!"
'Tis even as we thought—'tis he did enchant old Phagia! Cordelia thought, horrified.
Then he hath the blood of many upon his head, already. Geoffrey felt anger rising. It helped hide the growing fear; he felt better. We need have no qualm at seeking our freedom by whatever means we may!
But Lontar heard their thoughts. "Indeed," he crowed. "And how shalt thou accomplish it?"
The dim light filtering through the sides of the hot, stuffy bag faded and was gone. "We have come into thy fortress," Groghat boomed. "Where shall we bind them?"
"Yonder," Lontar said.
Groghat muttered, and the children heard his feet gritting on stone, felt the bag jounce as he climbed stairs—and climbed, and climbed, and climbed…
Finally, rusty hinges groaned, and the bag shifted topsyturvy. Howling in fright, the children tumbled out. They remembered Papa's lessons and tucked in their chins, so that their heads were at least a little protected as they slammed into the stone floor. The sudden light seemed horribly bright after the darkness of the bag, and they squinted, looking about—to see the old wizard standing in the doorway cackling, with Phebe beside him, looking very somber now, and unsure. Groghat was there behind them, stooping to peer into the room.
Lontar had put on his wizard's robe—dark blue, soiled and greasy, but with the gold of the embroidered signs of the zodiac still gleaming through. His tall, pointed cap, with golden stars and crescent moons upon it, came up to Groghat's chest.
"I'll come for thee anon," Lontar crooned, "when I've heated my cauldron. Enjoy what little time is left to thee whilst thou may. I have given thee my proudest room." He elbowed Phebe aside with a crow of triumph and slammed the door. A rusty bolt ground home.
The children turned to look at the "proudest room," and shuddered. The floor was carpeted in dust, the corners festooned with old cobwebs. The narrow windows let in only a little light, but enough to show piles of rotted cloth here and there. Cordelia took a stick and poked at one of the piles, then pulled back with a shudder. "'Tis rotted cloth—but in garments!"
"Grown-up's garments?" Gregory asked hopefully.
Cordelia shook her head. "Nay. Small garments—children's."
Magnus felt anger growing. He glared at the pitiful pile, then frowned at the thin rod in Cordelia's hand. "What ma
Cordelia dropped it with a sound of disgust, and wiped her hand on her skirt.
"We should not have restored his heart," Geoffrey said darkly. "He deserved death."
"For once, I fear I must own that thou didst have the right of it," Magnus admitted. "Yet that's past and gone; what remains is our lives. How shall we break free from here, brother?"
His siblings looked up at him, startled at the notion of hope. Then they came alive. Geoffrey sprang to his feet and ran to the window. He jumped up, levering himself onto the sill. "'Tis a clear drop down, Magnus—naught to support a climb. Eh, if we could fly, 'twould be easily done!" Experimentally, 'he thought of floating, pushing away against the floor—but he didn't even feel lighter.
Magnus shook his head. "Whatever ma
Cordelia cast about, and dashed over to a corner with a glad cry. She caught up an old stick, sweeping the cobwebs off it with distaste, and held it out flat in her hands. The straws had almost completely rotted away, but it was a broomstick. She closed her eyes, concentrating furiously— but the stick stayed obstinately still. She threw it from her in frustration. "It doth naught!"
"Nor can any of us," Magnus said glumly. "Alas! What shall we do?" He slumped down, sitting cross-legged, head bowed, dejected.
Geoffrey dashed to him, clasping his arm. "Do not dare to despair! Fight, brother! There must be a way to life!"
Gregory sniffled and burst into tears. Cordelia dashed to him and hugged him against her. He buried his head in her skirts, crying.
"Do thou not!" Geoffrey insisted. "Weeping avails us naught! Gregory, think!"
"If only Vidor were here!" Gregory wailed. "He would know what to do! His magic's not like ours—it hath not our limits! It doth work by words and by symbols, not by thought only! Assuredly, Vidor would know how to defeat this vile sorcerer!"
Magnus's head came up. "What dost thou say?"
"He said Vidor would know!" Cordelia snapped, glaring at Magnus.
"Aye, I did hear him!" Magnus ran to his little brother, whirling him about and grasping his shoulders. "Gregory, think! Our other powers have been bound, but not our thought-hearing! Canst thou make thy Vidor to hear thee?"
Gregory looked up, wide-eyed, sniffling. "Why, mayhap I can—yet what good…" Then his face lit; he smiled. "Aye, certes! He may be able to tell us what magic will defeat this vile Lontar!"
Cordelia beamed at Magnus—but for cheering up Gregory, not for saving them.
Gregory plumped down cross-legged, back ramrod-straight, and closed his eyes.
His brothers and sister watched him in silence. Geoffrey looked fair to bursting, but he kept silent.
Finally Gregory opened his eyes. "Vidor saith that he is too little to attempt any such battle—and that his Papa ca
"And he is not here." Magnus scowled in fury. "Confound! How may they aid?"
"Vidor," Gregory said, "hath an older brother."
They were all silent, staring.
"How much older?" Magnus asked finally.
"Seven years. He's of an age with thee, Magnus."
Big brother knelt there, staring at him.
""'Tis our one chance, my sib," Geoffrey said, his voice low. "Thou must needs open thy mind to this…" He turned to Gregory. "What is his name?"
"Albertus," Gregory answered.
"…this Albertus." Geoffrey turned back to Magnus. "Hast thou the courage?"
Magnus swung about at him, glaring. "Mind thy ma
"Aye," Gregory agreed eagerly. "Now close thine eyes…" He closed his own. "Wait… I've told Vidor, he doth summon Albertus… Attend…"
They waited—and waited. Cordelia bit back the urge to scream with impatience.
"Albertus comes," Gregory said finally. "Vidor doth summon his father, also… Ah, we've good fortune! His father's not far distant! Lord Kern comes… Albertus is nearly here! Now, Magnus, close thine eyes!" i
"I have already," Big Brother said impatiently. "What now, lad?"
"Open thy mind… widely… Let all thy body and mind go loose… Nay, Magnus, I know 'tis most difficult, but thou must needs forget what doth hap, and let thy mind drift… Now… follow me. Let thy mind blow where mine doth…"
They were silent, eyes closed. Cordelia and Geoffrey held their breaths.
They heard footsteps on the stairs.
Cordelia opened her mouth to scream, but Geoffrey clapped a hand over it. She clenched her fists, fighting hard to keep silent, to keep from breaking her brothers' concentration.
"Now, 'tis time!" Lontar called from the other side of the door.
"I like this not," said Phebe's voice.
"Thou wilt be party to it, or thou shalt join with them! Groghat, seize her!… Aieee! Mine head! The pain… Nay! Mind me not—but seize her! Yüü!"
There were sounds of a struggle; Phebe screamed.
"Ah, now," Lontar panted, "thou'rt decided. 'Tis well. One way or another, lass, thou shalt join us for di