“I shall!” Cordelia said promptly.

“No, thou shalt not!” Gwen pressed her hands over her daughter’s ears. “Thou shalt not soil so young a mind as thine; that man hath filth and muck beneath the surface of his thinking that he doth attempt to hold back, but ever fails!”

“Oh.” Rod raised his eyebrows. “You’ve had a sample already?”

“Aye, of the things he doth yearn to do to the folk in his part of Tir Chlis, but doth never, out of cowardice, and, be it said to his slight credit, some lingering trace of scruple. This I read in him, whilst he did speak of Lord Kern’s ‘foul rule!’ ”

Rod nodded. “If you could get him talking about one thing, all the related thoughts came to his mind, just below the surface.”

“Thou hast learned the fashion of it well, mine husband. Almost could I believe thou hast practiced it thyself!”

“No, worse luck—but I’ve learned a lot about the human mind, from books.” He surveyed his children. “I hope none of you were peeking into the Duke’s mind.”

All three shook their heads. “Mama forbade us,” Magnus explained.

“One of those little telepathic commands that I couldn’t hear.” Rod sighed philosophically. “Speaking of things I can’t hear, what’s the Duke doing right now?”

Gwen’s eyes lost focus. “Speaking to Elidor…” Her voice suddenly dropped in pitch, in a parody of the Duke’s. “I was so very glad to find thee well, unharmed—believe, ‘tis true!” Her voice rose, imitating Elidor’s. “I do believe it, Uncle.”

“Then believe it, also, when I tell thee that thou must not wander off again, alone! ‘Tis too dangerous for an unfledged lad! There be a thousand perils in this world, awaiting thee! I own I have been harsh with thee, from time to time—yet only when thou hast tried mine patience overly, and ever have I repented of mine anger after! Stay, good lad, and I’ll promise thee, I’ll try to be more moderate.”

Very low: “I’ll bide, good Uncle.”

“Wilt thou! There’s a good lad! Be sure, ‘tis chiefly my concern for thee that moves me to this protest! Oh, I will not hide from thee my hatred for Lord Kern, nor have I ever sought to hide it—or my abiding fear that he may somehow seize thee from me, and use thee to gain power over me! For thou dost like him more than me, now dost thou not?… Dost thou not!… Answer!”

“He and his wife were kindly,” Elidor muttered.

“And was I not? Have I never treated thee with kindness? Nay, answer not—I see it in thine eyes. Thou dost remember only cuffs and blows, and never all the sweetmeats I did bring thee, nor the games that we did play! Nay, thou didst not wander off for mere adventure this day, didst thou? Thou didst seek to join Lord Kern! Didst thou not? Now answer to me!… What, wilt thou not?” Gwen’s whole body shook; she shuddered, and her eyes focused on Rod again. Trembling, she said, “He doth beat the lad. Most shrewdly.”

Rod’s face darkened. “The animal!…No, son!” He clamped a hand on Magnus’s shoulder; the boy’s body jolted, his eyes focussing again. “You can’t just teleport him away from the Duke; you’d raise a hue and cry that’d keep us penned in this castle for days. Poor Elidor’ll have to last it out until we can find a way to free him.”

“He did not seem so bad a man, when first we met him,” Cordelia said, troubled.

“He probably wouldn’t be, if he weren’t a Duke, and a regent.” Rod ran his fingers through his hair. “A burgher, say, where he could split the responsibility with a committee—or a clerk in an office. Without the pressure, his kind side’d be able to come through. But in the top position, he knows down deep that he can’t really handle the job, and it scares him.”

“And when he’s fearful, he will do anything to safeguard himself,” Magnus said somberly.

Rod nodded. “Good insight, son. Anyway, that’s how I read him. Unfortunately, he is the regent, and he’s out of control—even his own control.”

“Thus his power doth corrupt him,” Gwen agreed, “and all his hidden evils do come out.”

“Evil he is,” Magnus said with a shudder. “Papa, we must wrest Elidor from out his power!”

“I agree,” Rod said grimly. “No kid ought to have a man like that in charge of him. But we can’t just bull in there and yank him loose.”

“Wherefore not?” Cordelia’s chin thrust out stubbornly.

“Because, sweetling, a thousand guardsmen would fall on us ere we’d gone fifty paces,” Gwen explained.

“Papa can answer for ten of them—and thou and Magnus can answer for the rest!”

“Nay, I fear not.” Gwen smiled sadly. “There are some things that surpass even witches’ power.”

“I could defeat a thousand!” Magnus protested.

Rod shook his head. “Not yet, son—though I’m not sure you won’t be able to, when you’re grown. A thousand men, though, you see, they come at you from all sides, and by the time you’ve knocked out the ones in front, the ones behind have stabbed you through.”

“But if I took them all at one blow?”

Rod smiled. “Can you?”

Magnus frowned, looking away. “There must be a way. How doth one do it, Papa? Without magic, I mean.”

“Only with a bomb, son.”

Magnus looked up. “What is a ‘bomb?’ ”

“A thing that makes a huge explosion, like a lightning-blast.”

Magnus’s face cleared. “Why, that I can do!”

Rod stared at him, feeling his hair trying to stand on end. He might be able to do it—he just might. No one knew for sure, yet, just what the limits were to Magnus’s powers—if there were any. “Maybe you could,” he said softly. “And how many would die in the doing of it?”

Magnus stared at him; then he turned away, crestfallen. “Most, I think. Aye, thou hast the right of it, Papa. We cannot withstand an army—not with any conscience.”

“Stout lad,” Rod said softly, and felt a gush of pride and love for his eldest. If only the kid could pick it up, straight from his mind!

Instead, he had to content himself with clasping Magnus’s shoulder. “Well, then! How will we do it? First, we need some information. What did you get from him while you had him talking, dear?”

“He had a bonfire of craving,” Cordelia said. “That, we could not shut out!”

Rod went so still that Magnus looked up at him, startled.

“Nought but what one would expect from so foul a man,” Gwen said quickly. “Indeed, I doubt a lass doth cross his threshold that he doth not so desire!”

“But what doth he want them for, Mama?” Cordelia piped.

“That’s one of the things we don’t want you hearing from his mind, darling,” Rod said grimly.

“Papa, cool thy spirit,” Gwen cautioned.

“I will, for the time being. But when I can get him alone, I think Duke Foidin and I will have a very interesting exchange.”

“Of thoughts?” Magnus frowned.

“Interpret it as you will, son. But, speaking of thoughts, dear…?”

“Well!” Gwen sat down on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap. “To begin with, Lord Kern was the old King’s Lord High Warlock.”

Rod stared.

Gwen nodded. “And I do not ken the meaning of it, for none at that table could hear thoughts—of this, I’m certain. Still, the Duke is sure Lord Kern wields magic, and knows of several others—but none so strong as Kern.”

“No wonder he wants us! But what kind of magic do they do here, if they aren’t espers?”

Gwen shook her head. “I cannot tell; there were no clear events. Beneath the surface of his mind, there was but a feel of many mighty deeds unrolling.”

“There was making many men at once to disappear,” Magnus chipped in, “and summoning of dragons, and of spirits.”

“And calling up the fairies! Oh! ‘Twas pretty!” Cordelia clapped her hands.

“An’ swords, Papa!” Geoff crowed in excitement. “Swords that cut through all, and could fight by th’selves!”

Rod stared.

Then his gaze darkened, and he turned slowly, glowering down at each child in turn.

They realized their mistake, and shrank back into themselves.