Chapter 8 An Unexpected Visitor

Randor awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs and pancakes. The food was on a tray on the beside table. Marlena sat reading beside the bed, but she looked up as he shifted. "Did they tell you everything?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Randor, or nearly everything. I had one question that they couldn't answer."

He closed his eyes. "I'm almost afraid to ask what."

"Why did you try to keep this from me, Randor?" The hurt in her voice, made Randor cringe. He gave her an apologetic look. Her expression was stern. "Leaving aside the fact that you allowed me to interact for three days with someone who was not my son, how could you fail to tell me that Adam was in such danger?"

Randor looked down at his hands, unable to bear the steady gaze his wife was giving him. "He threatened Adam, Marlena. I couldn't take a chance of him crippling our son."

"You should have trusted me to keep the secret, my dear."

Randor sighed. "I know." She nodded, and took his hand. His mouth tasted vile. "Did they feed me glop during the night?"

"Twice."

"Twice?"

"You've lost weight, Randor. Now if you want to avoid any further doses of glop, you'd best eat your breakfast like a good boy."

"Where's the viewer? I must get a look at Adam." Wordlessly, Marlena picked up the little object from the surface of her book and handed to him. Adam was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking bleary-eyed. Randor sympathized.

"He just woke up."

"I can see that." Adam rubbed his eyes, and looked down at his left arm. Seeing that bandage made Randor faintly nauseated. His son got up and walked over to the table where a breakfast plate much like Randor's sat. He grabbed a piece of bacon and stuffed it in his mouth, then sat down and started unwrapping the makeshift bandage. "Marlena, get Dorgan. Adam's tending that burn."

Marlena got up and opened the door to call out for the healer. Moments later, Dorgan stood with them, gazing at the image in the viewing stone. After unwrapping the bandage, Adam looked at his arm consideringly. Randor looked up at Dorgan to get his verdict. "From what I can see," Dorgan said, "it doesn't look nearly as bad as yours, Randor."

"What about the antibiotics?" the king asked urgently.

The healer shrugged. "It's hard to say. He'll need them if it gets infected."

As always, Marlena struck right to the heart of the matter. "Would you give them to him if he were here, Dorgan?"

The healer twisted his lips, sighed, and nodded. "Just to be on the safe side. That's not to say he would necessarily need them, but yes, I would give them to him."

Marlena nodded thoughtfully. "So we need to work out a way to convince the imposter to give them to him."

"I'll just have to ask nicely, I guess," Randor said. Marlena's lips tightened, but she made no comment. "Where are Man-at-Arms and Stratos?"

"I'll send for them when you've finished your breakfast," Marlena said. "Dorgan, do you need to treat his arm now, or can it wait until after breakfast?"

"After breakfast will be soon enough. And, yes, your highness, I will go." Dorgan sketched a wave at Randor and went out. Marlena turned toward Randor, who prudently picked up his tray and settled it across his knees. He placed the viewer on the left corner of it so that Marlena could watch with him.

Adam carefully washed the burn on his arm, hissing at the pain. Having enough clean water to wash an injury in and still be able to drink something was a novelty. And the pitcher filled up as fast as he used it. He looked at the grey fabric he'd used as a bandage the night before distastefully, and got up. He pulled his fresh pajamas out from under the bed, and, taking the pants and one of his pottery shards, he ripped it into strips. Clean bandages, and he still had a pair of pants and a shirt to wear.

He wrapped the burn gently in one of the new strips he'd made, then walked over to gaze down at the chest the rotten jerk had brought with him the night before. On top of it stood a pot of marigolds. Kneeling in front of it, Adam picked the plant up and put it on the floor. "What is this?" he asked. The chest looked vaguely familiar. Maybe it was from one of the storage rooms at the palace. He lifted the hasps and opened it.

Inside lay a peculiar assortment of things, but on top there was a letter in handwriting he recognized. He stared at it for a long moment, then reached forward slowly and picked it up. "My dear Adam," he read aloud. It was from his father. He looked again at the things in the chest. Books, weights, paper, his hairbrush. . .this wasn't from the imposter, this was from his father.

Blinking against a sudden hotness in his eyes, he got up and walked over to the table and his breakfast, taking the letter with him. He started to read it as he ate. He had to put his fork down almost immediately, though.

As he read the first paragraph, he thought about the number of books he'd seen in that chest. How long did his father expect the imposter to keep him here?

I miss you dreadfully. Adam had to stop when he read that. He couldn't even find a way to express how much he missed his father, missed his mother, missed everybody, missed anybody. He really missed Cringer. Adam took a deep breath to control his feelings, and read on. He had to read the next three sentences several times, trying to puzzle out what his father was trying to say. As your father, I want you here by my side, and I will do anything to achieve that. "I hope not," Adam said, thinking of things that the doppelganger could be asking for. "Father, you can't." But his father couldn't hear him. As King of Eternia, my duty is clear. I need my sole heir returned to me, alive and well. The "sole heir" thing was pretty clear. Adam had always wondered why his parents hadn't had any more children after him. Not only would he have liked to have siblings, but it did seem kind of risky for a king to have just one child. Adam wondered how worried his father would be now if there were a couple of brothers at home to take his place. It would sure take the pressure off, he thought.

Remember, as a prince, your life is not your own. Back to that again. Adam didn't want to think about that. He was going to survive. No sadistic little copycat was going to get rid of him. And thinking about himself weak and feeble in front of Skeletor made his skin crawl. He'd already been there, thank you. He also didn't need to think about how his mother was going to react to anything. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

"What is that he's reading?" Marlena asked as Adam dropped the letter to the table top and put his head in his hands. "It seems to be upsetting him." Randor felt himself shrink. The letter wasn't supposed to make Adam upset. It was supposed to buck him up. "Randor, do you suppose the weasel wrote to him? What would he say?"

"It's not that, Marlena. The letter is from me."

"You wrote to Adam?" Marlena's tone was decidedly neutral, which made Randor very nervous. "What did you say to him?"

"Just that I miss him and we love him and not to give up."

"I suppose you put a lot of emphasis on the not giving up part," she said.

"I tried to be encouraging, Marlena. I didn't want him to see the piles of things I sent and assume that we were expecting him to be there for months or something."

Marlena's eyes widened. "That's a truly horrible thought. What if that unspeakable toad comes up with something else he wants when the machine is built? He's got Adam. If he doesn't choose to hand him over, what could we do about it?"

"He won't. He knows if he does I'll kill him and take my chances on finding Adam." Randor shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean for the letter to upset him."

"Randor, of course he's upset. He's alone in a strange place and he's just gotten word from home that says, I would assume, that we're trying to rescue him. Being upset by it doesn't necessarily mean it's making him unhappy."

"I just -"

"Don't worry so much, Randor." She put a hand on his. "Sometimes I miss the days when Adam was small and you two could talk to each other."

Randor blinked, taken aback by this remark.

Cringer was pining for him? Adam thought. But - what was the imposter doing to him? Was he okay? Adam shook his head. His father wouldn't have said that Cringer was pining for him if Cringer was hurt or sick or something, would he?

He had to laugh over the next sentence, though. He had been complaining about how everyone watched him, but he'd prefer that over solitude in this tiny cell. He was glad to hear that everyone at the palace was well, but he wondered if his father would even tell him if that wasn't the case. Of course, then he would probably just leave it out, not lie. Adam shrugged.

Your mother and I love you very much. . . Adam bit his lip. He had to say that, didn't he? Adam rubbed his eyes, and read on. You're in my thoughts every second of the day. Adam blinked. His eyes were suddenly watering, and he sniffed.

"He's crying!" Randor was appalled. "Marlena, what could I have said to make him cry?"

"I don't suppose you told him that you love him, Randor?"

Randor stiffened in embarrassment. "Of course, I told him that we both love him." Marlena raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "And that I miss him and that I'm thinking of him," he added defensively, though he wasn't sure what he was being defensive about.

"Randor, I remember you crying when you read a letter from your father expressing much the same sentiments."

"I did not cry. My eyes were watering!"

When Adam could see again, he rolled a piece of bacon up in a pancake and went back over to the chest. He munched as he pulled things out. The first two books he found were novels that he remembered telling his father that he wanted to read. He put them next to the bed. As he pulled out the rest of the books, he realized that they were all his research materials on the Pelian war. It looked like every single one was there. When he picked up the last one, he found the small chest that contained the journals of Elegius beneath it. He froze. What was his father thinking to send those irreplaceable books to this benighted place? What if they never found him?

He pulled the chest out and looked at it. Of course, he'd have difficulty working on this project without them. And without Teela. Without her to bounce ideas off of he'd have to go it alone. He was suddenly very alarmed. He missed Teela. He'd love to have Teela yelling at him right now. Things had to be pretty bad for him to want that. After setting the chest down, he looked into the box.

All his toiletries were there. Only his father would think of that, but Adam was grateful nonetheless. He wanted to have clean hair. That would be difficult, but he'd work out the logistics later. There were a couple of little boxes, and as he reached for the first one, his burned arm brushed the side of the chest. Letting out a cry of pain, he sat back, biting his lip until the pain subsided.

The little box proved to contain his favorite candies. He didn't even know that his father knew which his favorites were. A slightly larger box contained cookies. He stuffed one in his mouth and kept looking. Several jars of paints confused him, but he shrugged and put them aside. There were two decks of cards. Solitaire could while away an hour or two. Adam sighed. Or ten. The weights he needed for exercising his legs properly were a nice touch. Dorgan would be pleased.

There was something wrapped in cloth at the very bottom of the chest. Adam reached in and picked it up. The cloth was a blanket, Adam was pleased to see. It wasn't actually cold in here, but it was nice to have something that was his own. Too bad his father hadn't thought to send his pillow.

The item in the blanket was heavy-ish and solid. He unwrapped it carefully, wondering what it was. As the covering fell away, Adam stared in surprise. It was the painting of Cringer that Ram-Man had made for him. He usually kept it on his dresser. His eyes filled with tears and he clutched the picture to his chest.

"Marlena, he's crying!" Randor exclaimed. "I thought he'd like to have that picture." Marlena didn't respond, so Randor looked over at her. "Marlena, you're crying!"

"That was a sweet thought, dear. It's too bad we can't just send the whole cat."

"I thought about suggesting it, but I don't want to hand him another hostage. Just think if he decided to hurt Cringer in front of Adam." Marlena blanched, and Randor found himself wishing he hadn't thought of it. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him. It was a comfort to have her close.

A commotion in the main room of the infirmary made them both look up. The consternation in the voices they could hear alarmed Randor. He put his barely touched breakfast tray aside, pulled the blanket back and stood up.

"Randor!" Marlena said, trying to push him back.

"A night's rest and those doses of glop have restored me, Marlena." He caught her hands and kissed them. "I must know what's going on." Marlena put an arm around his waist, and they walked to the door to see what had happened.

Mekanek lay unconscious on an exam table in the middle of the room. A stretcher leaned against a nearby wall, and medics swarmed around the master while a guard stood uneasily by the door. Dorgan was coming out of his office as the king arrived. Randor let go of Marlena and strode forward. "Dorgan, what happened?"

The old healer looked to one of the medics. "We don't know. He was found this morning in one of the parlors. They tried to wake him there, but -" The medic shook his head. "I can't find anything wrong with him."

"Send for Man-at-Arms," Randor ordered. "He can check the neck apparatus."

Marlena spoke up from his side. "Have the guards search the palace compound for intruders."

"A search is already underway, your highness," the guard said. "Captain Teela ordered me to stay here, to protect you and the king."

Randor looked down at his friend, fuming inside. He doubted there had been an intruder, but what was the imposter thinking to attack one of the masters like this? Was he trying to cause panic? A moment later Duncan came in. "What's happened?"

"We don't know," the medic replied. "His pulse is normal, his temperature is normal, everything I can check is normal. He should be fine - he's just not." Duncan glanced up at Randor and they exchanged a worried look. Duncan bent and gently extended Mekanek's neck slightly so that he could look at the circuitry.

Dorgan walked over and took the king's arm. "Have you eaten yet, sire?"

"No, he hasn't," Marlena said before Randor could speak.

"Well, then, your highness, it's time for you to finish your breakfast."

Randor resisted the healer's guidance for a moment to speak to Man-at-Arms. "Duncan, when you've finished your examination, please come tell me what you've learned." His advisor waved acknowledgment, not looking up from his task, and, satisfied, Randor allowed himself to be led away.

When they looked in on him again, Adam had begun rearranging his space. He'd placed the picture of Cringer on the chest and was piling the books neatly against a wall. He picked up the plant, looked perplexedly at it, and placed it on the corner of the table, well away from the spot where his meals appeared. He watered it carefully, then sat down to finish his breakfast. Randor was pleased to see that he wasn't dwelling on his miserable circumstances. Sitting down on the bed, he applied himself to his own breakfast with a will.

He and Marlena watched as Adam finished eating and then set about his morning stretching exercises. He'd already starting working with the weights before Duncan came in. Before Man-at-Arms said anything, he walked over, picked up the viewer and looked down at the image of Adam. "He looks like he's all right," he said, relief evident in his tone.

"Yes," Marlena said. "Randor, I must go." Her eyes were bright, and she squeezed his hand. "There are things that need dealing with, and I must let people know that, while you are unwell, you are by no means incapacitated."

Randor put the empty tray aside and stood up, taking her by the shoulders. He gazed worriedly into her eyes. "Marlena, I'm sure that someone else could -"

"No, Randor. I can't watch anymore right now. I know that you are, and that's enough." She smiled tremulously, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left. Randor turned to watch her go, biting his lip.

"She'll be fine, Randor," Duncan said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I know. I just - I'd rather she wasn't out of my sight." Duncan nodded sympathetically, and Randor shook his head to clear himself of his maudlin mood. It didn't noticeably help. He turned back to Man-at-Arms. "What's wrong with Mekanek?"

"Nothing that I can see. It makes me profoundly nervous, but what reason could the imposter possibly have to attack Mekanek?"

Randor shook his head. "I don't know. According to you, he was spying on me, not him, so I can't imagine -"

The door opened suddenly and the imposter walked in. "Good morning, Father, Man-at-Arms," he said, shutting the door behind him. "Father, I do hope you're feeling better this morning." Randor glanced around for the viewer. Duncan had closed his hand around it and was starting to tuck it away in his belt, but this only drew the imposter's attention to it. The weasel strode forward and snatched it away from Duncan. He glared at Randor. "What, are we showing off our toys?" he demanded in a fury. "Deactivate!" Tossing the now inert piece of river rock down onto the coverlet, he stepped back and turned to face both of them at once. "So the mechanic knows now." He raised an eyebrow. "I had thought you preferred your son whole."

Randor opened his mouth, but Duncan spoke before he could. "He didn't tell me," Man-at-Arms said quickly. "I figured it out on my own." The imposter straightened, his eyes flashing blue fire. Duncan pursed his lips. "You're not the best actor in the world, you know. Half the palace thinks there's something wrong with the prince."

"Indeed?" The imposter tilted his head, a vicious smile spreading across his face. Duncan's lip curled in revulsion, a reaction the doppelganger noticed and clearly enjoyed. His smile broadened and he gazed up into Duncan's eyes. "They could just be right." Randor's gut churned as the weasel spread his hands, speaking words he didn't understand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, reaching for the viewer.

The weasel turned and forestalled him. "Oh, no, that's far too small an image to get across the magnitude of this new amusement I've sent the prince," he declared. Randor stared at him, appalled, as these words lifted his anxiety to new heights.

Murmuring, the imposter closed his eyes and drew his hand up high as though pulling something into his grasp. Opening his eyes once more, he threw his handful of nothing toward the door, sending a bolt of blue light at it which sank into the surface, glowing slightly. It spread, sending out tendrils until they were enclosed in a cage of luminous bars. "That will keep intruders out and noise in," he said with satisfaction. Then he conjured an image that filled half the room. Adam was seated in the chair and had weights strapped to both ankles. Slowly, he straightened one of his legs at the knee, held it there for a few seconds, then lowered it back to the ground. "And twenty-five," he grunted.

Behind him, an enormous purple leopard stood, tail lashing angrily. Not Panthor, surely! Randor thought in desperation. Adam hadn't noticed his houseguest, which had started to stalk him. The prince bent to unstrap the weight from his left leg, and he must have caught a glimpse of what loomed behind him, for he sat up and turned with a shout of alarm. "What the -"

"No!" Randor cried. "Please don't!" Adam tried to get up to flee to the other side of the room, but the weights foiled him, causing him to fall forward to hands and knees. The feline batted the chair aside and snatched at him with one paw, raking red lines down the back of his thigh. Adam dragged himself out of reach. The cat slowly moved toward him, and Adam kept pulling himself away.