"What's the matter, Boss?" Nunzio asked.

"There's no one there!" I exclaimed. "I just sat down on someone's lap."

Hermalaya looked at the empty chair. "Oh, that's just Uncle Cyrus." she said. "We are blessed."

"Who is Uncle Cyrus?" I demanded.

Hermalaya put a pretty finger to her chin to puzzle it out. "He was king about, oh, three hundred years ago? I am so delighted. The Old Folks have come to show us that they approve of our endeavors. They just love Cake."

"Are they always here?"

"They protect us," Hermalaya said, as though I must be feebleminded not to know that. "That's how come no one was killed in the pinchbug epidemic. Those pesky little creatures drilled right through solid rock. You think they couldn't have gone through plain flesh and bone?"

"I never thought about it," I said honestly.

"Well, that's why. They didn't think about clothes, though? That's why people came to me for help."

"The family ghosts?" asked Elliora, curiously.

"Does that upset you?" I was afraid she wanted to leave.

The Leprechaun laughed. "Ach, no, not at all. We've got plenty of ghosts of our own in Ayer! Let's keep on, shall we? I've never had such a good time in my life."

Hermalaya's eyes shone with delight. "Well, you are out, Skeeve, because Uncle Cyrus beat you to the chair? One fewer seat, please!"

Nunzio courteously went to move a chair, but the family ghosts beat him to it. The gold, hoop-backed Windsor with ball-and-claw feet slid toward the wall before he could touch it. The remaining chairs moved by themselves to fill the gap.

I moved away from the ritual area, worrying whether I was going to run into another one of Hermalaya's deceased relatives. The Old Folks seemed to be having as much fun as the living. Chumley really got into the spirit of the games, letting out a refined hoot of pleasure when he successfully pinned the tail on the Dragon's rump. Five more tails attached themselves in the same vicinity.

"Cheating!" Chumley declared. The Old Folks didn't say anything. I never saw or heard any of them.

"And this is for you, my dear," Elliora said, when the festivities were finished. She handed Hermalaya a little, round, green ceramic pot sealed at the top with parchment. "Tradition begs for tradition, you see. It's how we like to keep our money." She had tears in her eyes. "I had no idea how it was here, dear princess. It's not my intention to impoverish a whole kingdom. I'll inform Matfany that we'll keep the line of credit open only if he lets you come back. You will have to keep up on the payments, you know. We're not in the kingdom-running business, but we ARE in business."

"I understand," Hermalaya said. "I will do better in the future? I know I just have so much to learn. Thank you so much for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me," Elliora said. She winked at me. "Don't show me out. I know the way."

BAMF!

I waited nervously as Hermalaya undid the ribbon on Elliora's pot of gold. The princess poured the coins out into her palm. They overspilled her hand and bounced to the floor. Guido and Chumley bent to gather them up, but they just kept coming.

"How many are in there?" Massha asked, her eyes wide. The pool of gold scattered around the princess's feet.

"I don't know!"

"Oh, isn't she generous!" Hermalaya said. "This is going to help my people so much?"

I shoveled coins into my belt pouch, into Massha's handbag, into anything that would hold them. I was elated.

"We did it," I said. "Elliora's gift really is the tipping point. Between this and the loans she can call in on him, we have enough leverage to force Matfany out of business and get the kingdom back on its feet. We've won. No matter how much Aahz can raise, we can drain it. He'll be in negative equity."

"Hooray!" Massha yodeled, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oops! Sorry."

I ran to the door and planted my ear against it. I heard running footsteps. Someone had heard us.

"What's that?" Hermalaya asked. She looked at me in concern. "Auntie Xantippe says that there are guards on the way. We have to get out of here?"

Gold kept pouring out of the little pot.

"How do we make it stop?" Massha asked.

"If I may suggest," Chumley said, "a modicum of common sense dictates that if changing the orientation to horizontal precipitates the flow, then restoring it to vertical should stem it."

"Oh!" Hermalaya said. She tipped the pot upright. The jingling avalanche halted at once. "Is that what you mean. Mister Chumley?"

He smiled at her. "Just so, your highness."

"Whew," I said.

"We still have to get all those coins," Nunzio said, filling his pockets from the heap on the floor. They caused the pockets of his beautiful suit to bulge out of shape. I promised myself I would pay his cleaning bill when we got back. "Bunny won't give you credit for money she can't see."

"You're right," I said.

I let go of my escape spell. Instead, I channeled the energy into a mass of magik like a ball of sticky clay. I sent it rolling all over the room, picking up coins.

"Get ready," I said, holding out my hands like a catcher. The ball rolled toward me, a little sluggishly now that it was heavy with gold. "We're going to get out of here as soon as I have—"

The doors slammed open. A troop of guards in leather mail, headed by a silver-furred fox holding a wand, charged into the room. The wizard glared at us sternly. Magik crackled around him like a cloud.

"I'd advise none of you to make a single move."

I stood up very slowly with my hands over my head.

"Take it easy, fellahs," I said. "We were just leaving, if you don't mind. Uh, you can keep the rest of the gold on the floor here. We don't need all of it. If you would just let us get out of here ... ?"

The captain of the guard, a russet-colored Fox, raised an eyebrow. "Attempting to bribe royal officers? Is that what you are trying to do?"

"Only if it will work," I said, winningly. "I'd rather not cause any trouble. My friends and I just want to get out of here."

"Who are your friends?" the captain asked, suspiciously.

"No one," I said, trying to get a disguise spell going on my companions, but I wasn't fast enough. The wizard countered me with a blast from his wand. "No one at all," I added lamely.

"Why, that's Princess Hermalaya," a brown-furred Swamp Fox declared, gazing at the white-pelted maiden in our midst.

"It is her!" said the wizard.

"Seize them!" the captain bellowed. The guards surged forward and surrounded us.

"What?" Massha asked. "Are you people out of your minds? This is your princess."

"That's right, ma'am," the captain said. "And she is under a writ of exile, as signed by our current ruler, Prime Minister Matfany."

Massha went over to tickle him under the chin with a thick forefinger. "You're not going to listen to that old meanie, are you?"

The captain recoiled. "Ma'am, you are our prisoner, too. Take them away!"

"Look, here, guys," I said. "Let's be reasonable. You are going to take us down and lock us up in the dungeon. And then, what? You all know what's in that writ. You're going to have to take that sweet young lady, whom you have all known since she was a little girl sitting on her father's knee, and you're supposed to put her to death." I flipped a hand toward Hermalaya, who, wrapped up in her oversized white apron, was looking as demure and helpless a damsel in distress as I could ever have wished. "You don't look like the kind of heartless types who can drag their very own princess down the dark steps to the cold, dank, stone cells and listen to her cries for mercy while you prepare for an execution that every one of you knows is completely unjust?"