Chapter 11 Threats and Retribution

"Not precisely. But she has narrowed it down to a –"

"Stratos, can I have the viewer now, please?" Randor asked desperately.

"Of course, your highness. But – while the Sorceress was examining it, she drew the image up and out of the thing, so that we could see it in three dimensions."

Randor stared at him. What had he seen? The usually calm and imperturbable Avion was – well, he was very nearly dithering. "Stratos, just tell me what you saw." He's not crippled, Elders, please don't let him be crippled. Stratos handed him the viewer, but before Randor could activate it, he started speaking.

"The false prince entered the space and made very clear threats to harm Adam. We could not hear them speaking, but he placed a hand on Adam's head and spoke to Teela." Randor took deep breaths, willing himself not to speak now that the Avion was telling his story. "She threw down her weapons, but then the villain said something that upset the prince. He shoved at the fellow, but the imposter thrust him against the wall with a spell. The Sorceress was not pleased, I can tell you. He seized Adam by the arm, the burned arm, and yanked him to his knees. I don't know for certain what he said next, but I think I can guess." The Avion's already stern expression darkened. "I believe he ordered Teela to remove her clothing."

"And that's when Adam attacked him," Randor said, grimacing.

"How did you know?" Stratos asked in surprise.

"The imposter is in that exam room with Duncan, having his wounds tended to."

"I see." Stratos bit his lip. "Young Adam fought well, but in his weakened condition he was no match for the villain. Though the rogue did not manage to land a blow on Adam," the Avion noted with evident pride in his prince. "Unfortunately, as you know, the fiend has more than physical might at his command."

Randor sank into a chair, staring up at the Avion. "What did he do? What did he do to my son?" Another thought struck him. "Or to Teela? Did he harm Teela?"

"No, Teela is well, your highness. Rest easy on that point." This was not reassuring about Adam; however, Randor managed to keep from interrupting Stratos again. "He did harm the prince, though. He placed a hand on his chest above his heart and –" The lord of Avion paused, as though unsure how to phrase his next revelation. Spit it out, man, spit it out! Randor did not say. "He burned him, your highness. Very badly. Prince Adam managed to shove him off, and Teela – um – having removed her garments and covered herself, threw her clothes in the monster's face, at which point he left rapidly." Stratos took a deep breath. "Your highness, the brute seemed almost to lose control when he attacked Prince Adam. I am not altogether certain that he would have stopped had the prince not managed to strike a telling blow."

Randor buried his face in his hands. "How badly, Stratos? How serious is the burn?"

"Fairly, but he remained conscious. And he seemed to speak for some time in a very heated manner while Teela examined him and treated the injury." Randor found himself feeling very thankful that Teela was there, then castigated himself for such a selfish thought. "He did go into shock, however. But she treated that as well." The Avion put a hand on the king's shoulder. "It is nothing that will not heal, sire."

Randor sat up abruptly. "Stratos, go get the queen." The Avion nodded and started to leave, but Randor forestalled him. "Tell her to pack some things. When you go to do the research we discussed, I want you to take Marlena with you."

"I would be honored to, your highness." Stratos bowed and then left. Randor looked down at the still-dormant viewer in his hand, then tucked it resolutely in his pocket. In the next room he had access to a considerably more effective viewer, if the fellow could be persuaded to cooperate. Randor stood up, clenching his fists. He was willing to bet that he could persuade him.

Returning to the room, he shut the door and turned back to face the occupants, both of whom sat and stood in the exact positions he'd left them in. The tension in the room was thick as smoke. Addressing Duncan, he said, "His mission was partially successful." Duncan nodded. Randor turned back to the weasel. "Now, I believe we left off in the middle of your explanation of this." His gesture took in the imposter's injuries. "Have you any other injuries that are less easily seen?"

"A bruise or two that will no doubt heal on their own."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to somehow get the notion into your head that we aren't taking good enough care of you." Randor gave him an unfriendly smile. "So, do go on. You told Teela to remove her clothing?" At the cost of a great effort, Randor kept his voice calm and even, which seemed to alarm the imposter all the more.

"She might have been hiding a weapon somewhere," he exclaimed defensively.

"I believe we both understand the reasoning behind your request," Randor said. Duncan raised a brow but remained silent. "I'm not interested in your motives. Then what happened?"

"Your son attacked me. He – well, you can see what he did."

"And I have learned at some cost that you are not a man to take such without retribution. Just what form did that take?"

The imposter stiffened. "I burned him again. I think perhaps he may have learned his lesson." Randor wasn't sure what to hope for. He didn't want Adam to be so afraid that he was unable to defend himself, but on the other hand, if the cretin really did lose control, he might kill Adam without intending to. And he found himself hoping fervently that Teela would be practical. Perhaps this fellow had learned his lesson, and would do no more visiting in person.

"Is that all?" Duncan asked.

"Your daughter stripped as I asked that she do, and then I left." Duncan took one step forward, body stiff with the control he was exerting over himself. As rigid as he was, Randor was surprised that he actually moved. The weasel stood up. "I think I'll return to the royal bedchamber and rest."

"I think not," Randor said. "You are now going to show my son to me."

"You have the viewer."

"It is not sufficient to see the severity of the injury. You called up a larger image here in the infirmary, and I think you had better do so again, so that we can evaluate the wound and determine what further supplies will be required." The imposter's jaw set mutinously. Before he could refuse, Randor crossed his arms. "Duncan, do you think we need to persuade him?"

His man-at-arms eyes flashed. "I'd be delighted, sire. Just say the word."

The imposter looked across at Duncan, and he shifted nervously. "Fine." He called up the image of the cell again. Adam and Teela were both on the bed, cuddled close together spoon-style, Adam in front. His son appeared to be shivering, and it was clear that Teela was offering him body heat. The imposter opened his mouth to make some remark, but Randor fixed him with a steely look and he closed his mouth.

"Duncan, I'd say the first thing we need is more blankets." Man-at-Arms nodded. "It's impossible to see the injury at this moment." He glanced at the weasel. "I don't suppose you could make it possible for them to hear me?"

"I could," the villain said tauntingly. "But why would I want to?"

Controlling his temper with an enormous effort, Randor raised an eyebrow and turned to his friend. "Duncan, can you come up with some way to encourage this fellow to cooperate?"

Duncan gazed across at the imposter and smiled, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I can think of several methods that could prove effective."

The imposter tossed the ice bag down on the bed and glared at them both. "Very well, but be very careful what you say." He made a few gestures and spoke a couple of words. "Now go ahead."

Both Teela and Adam's heads jerked up, and the looked around for the intruder. Teela sat up, and it was suddenly obvious that she wasn't wearing anything, though she held the blanket up to shield herself from view.

"Adam, Teela, are you all right?" Randor said, his heart in his throat. Adam looked so young, so very vulnerable, and seeing Teela in that position made his blood boil with righteous anger.

Adam sat up abruptly. "Father? Are you all right? Teela said you'd collapsed!" Randor opened his mouth, but could think of no immediate response to this unexpected question. "Father? Is that you?" Adam leaned forward so eagerly that Randor wanted to reach out and put an arm on his shoulders.

"Yes, Adam, it's me. I'm fine. I was just slightly ill." Randor pursed his lips. "Adam, I –"

Adam interrupted, obviously desperate for news. "Is Cringer okay? And Mother?"

"Cringer is fine, Adam. He doesn't like where he is, and he misses you, but –"

"This is all very touching," the imposter said. Adam jerked back as if he'd been struck, and his face closed down. "But I didn't make this happen so you two could have a reunion. Boy, your father can see you at the moment. Show him the injury on your chest."

"Why?" Adam demanded, eyes wide and irate. "Father, don't do anything he says. I'm fine."

"Adam, I want to send you some medical supplies," Randor said urgently. "Please let me see what he did to you."

"No." Adam shook his head decisively. "It doesn't matter. Don't do what he says, please. Just kill the twerp and find us."

"I say one word, a single syllable, and you won't be able to see their remains without a microscope," the imposter said. His voice was quiet, but it got all their attentions.

Adam and Teela both stiffened, and Randor got an unbidden image of that room imploding with such force as to turn both of them into jelly. Duncan took a step forward. "Teela? What supplies do you need?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Burn ointment, a few more blankets and some decent clothing would be nice. Oh, and antacids would be useful."

Adam looked irritated, but he added, "How about another chair?" An odd expression in his eyes made Randor wonder what he was thinking. "My sword might come in handy."

"Teela," Randor said. "How bad is the burn, really?"

She looked uncomfortable, like she didn't know for certain what to say. "Sire? There are two burns."

"Teela!" Adam exclaimed. "Don't!"

"One is on his arm and the other is on his chest. The one on his arm isn't too bad, but the other one is pretty serious. We'll need some bandages for that one." She pursed her lips. "And fresh bandages daily so they can be changed."

"All right. Anything else?" Man-at-Arms asked.

"Father, I don't suppose you could break both his legs for him?" Teela said.

"We'll see."

"All right, that's enough." The imposter waved a hand, dismissing the image. "Gather the things you want to send and make it quick. Bring them to Adam's room." The imposter strode to the door.

"Don't forget, Adam's still not walking all that well," Randor said a touch impatiently.

The weasel growled, but slowed his movements down in a creditable imitation of Adam's slow gait. Once the imposter was gone, Duncan, too, left immediately to gather supplies. Randor waited for Dorgan to come in so that he could have him get things for the injuries. Besides, Stratos and Marlena would be coming soon.

Randor activated the viewer. Adam and Teela were still in the bed, and it appeared that Teela was attempting to coerce Adam to lie back down. Adam seemed to be shouting in the general direction of the ceiling. Sinking into a chair, Randor watched his son, wishing there was something he could do.

"– let me talk to my father!" Adam yelled. "You rotten, manipulating –"

"Adam!" Teela roared, and he fell silent in surprise. "There's no point and you're just going to annoy him."

Adam opened his mouth, then rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed, dragging the blanket down with him. He closed his eyes rapidly, and said, "Teela, I think you'd better get dressed!"

She got out of the bed, and Adam kept his eyes closed. His burns ached, and the scratches on the back of his leg hurt and itched abominably all at once. He tried to think about something – anything else.

A moment later, or so it seemed to Adam, Teela's voice took up in the middle of a sentence. "– so I really think we should go ahead and – Adam?" He blinked and looked over at her. She was dressed in gray pajamas like his, and she was standing by the table. Had he fallen asleep? All the supplies they had were spread out across the table, like she was doing some kind of an inventory. He closed his eyes and groaned. It was Teela; she probably was. "Adam, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Teela, I just nodded off."

Clearly concerned, she came over and put her hand on his forehead again. "Your fever is rising."

Adam shuddered as a chill wracked his body. "I'm freezing," he said, his teeth chattering.

"We need those blankets," Teela said toward the ceiling, the direction from which the voices had come. "Now would be good!" She climbed over Adam and lay down with him spoon style, arranging the blanket and the quilt over them both.

"So," Adam said, trying to keep his cool, "will you tell me a story, mama?"

"A story?" Teela exclaimed. After a moment, she sighed. "All right. Once upon a time there was a dumb jerk who thought he would pretend to be someone else."

"Does this story have a happy ending?"

"Naturally!"

"Why don't you skip to the end then? Don't care about all the parts in the middle. So far it sucks." He chuckled, and winced as the burn on his chest twinged. "You might say I'm burning to know how it comes out."

"Adam!" Teela did laugh, however. Adam wished they were back at the palace, surrounded by the masters. And Orko, doing magic tricks that never worked right. He was imagining the imposter as a potted plant when he fell asleep.

"Randor, why does Stratos seem to think I'm leaving?" Marlena's voice was deceptively calm. Randor looked up apprehensively. "Especially since I wasn't aware of this fact?"

"Did he tell you what happened to Adam?"

Marlena blinked at him. "What happ – no, he didn't. What did happen to Adam?" Randor opened his mouth and was quite startled to discover that no words would come out. How could he explain – describe – what that rabid weasel had done to their son? Her eyes widened at his silence, and she took a step forward, placing a hand on his arm. "Randor? You're scaring me. What happened?"

Randor shook his to clear it. "I'm sorry, my dear. Adam – the imposter demanded that Teela undress and Adam attacked him again. Gave the weasel a black eye and split lip."

Marlena took this in stoically. "And what did the weasel do to Adam?"

"According to Stratos," Randor nodded at the Avion, "he became enraged and – and he burned Adam again, this time on the chest."

She took a deep, steadying breath. "How bad is this new burn?"

"We tried to find out, but Adam wouldn't cooperate."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "What do you mean he wouldn't cooperate?"

"Duncan and I persuaded the imposter to allow us to speak to Adam and Teela. Adam wouldn't show us the burn, he absolutely refused." Randor shook his head. "That boy – he – I –" Words failed him. Marlena took him in her arms and hugged him firmly. He bent and spoke into her ear. "My dear, you have to go with Stratos. The imposter is using you as a threat against Adam, and it's only a matter of time before he decides to use you against me."

She drew back just enough to look up into his face, her eyes startled. "He's using me as a threat against Adam?"

"To keep him from trying to escape." Randor reflected, gazing down at his queen, that if she ever really let loose of all the anger she kept bottled up, he wanted to be there to watch her demolish any and all opponents in her path. At the moment, he could practically see the invective passing through her mind. "Adam asked after you," he said.

Marlena's eyes teared, and she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. "That vile, evil, malignant, . . ." The rest of her words were lost against his chest.

Stratos stood against the door, his back straight, every line in his body declaring his outrage that anyone had the sheer audacity to threaten his queen. He fairly vibrated with fury. "Stratos," Randor said, "I know I can rely on you to keep her safe."

"I am honored to undertake this charge." Stratos pursed his lips. "But I have information I must pass on to you first, your highness. The Sorceress was able to determine the general region where Adam is being held. It is a large area, but it is a beginning."

Marlena broke away from Randor. "How large an area?" she asked, her voice muffled with tears.

Stratos pulled out a square of linen on which a map had been imprinted. It covered part of the Sea of Rakash and a strip of land to either side. "The Sorceress created this when she was finally able to detect Adam's presence." The Avion looked down at the map. "It was the pain she sensed, Sire. She could find no sign of him until he – until that blackguard began torturing the boy." Randor blanched, and Marlena buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, my king, my queen, I should not have put it so bluntly."

Marlena turned back to him, and Randor could tell she was holding to her composure with teeth and nails. "No, my good Stratos, don't apologize. I would rather hear the truth than be kept in the dark." As she gave him a pointed look, Randor shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "I am grateful that the Sorceress has managed what she has." They both peered at the map, and Randor stared in a mixture of frustration and renewed hope at the wide expanse of the Sea of Rakash.

"Well, we know he's underwater, so this is an enormous help," Randor said. "Now we know which body of water to search."

"She apologized for the size of the area that would have to be covered." Stratos handed Randor the map. "She took Adam and Teela's plight very much to heart. I have seldom seen anyone so enraged. The imposter is fortunate she could not reach him at that moment." The Avion's expression hardened. "And that I could not."

"I understand," Randor said. "Thank you, Stratos, you have done us great service today. Now, how soon can you both be prepared to go?" Marlena set her jaw, but did not protest.

"I'll go gather a few things, and then I'll be ready," she said. "Stratos?"

"I will be ready when you are, my queen."

"Please accompany her to her chambers, Stratos, and keep watch." They drew together for a final hug, and then Marlena left, shadowed closely by the lord of Avion. Randor had rarely felt so bereft.

"All right," Dorgan said, bustling in. "Everyone who has left this room has looked grim or stricken. What happened?"

"He burned Adam again," Randor said simply.

Dorgan's face went blank. "So, have you decided how he's going to die?" he asked conversationally. "If not I've got a few suggestions."

Randor took a deep breath. "His fate will be decided in a court of law, once he has been apprehended."

The healer sank into a chair. "Somehow that doesn't seem adequate."

Randor sighed. "Well, Dorgan, what would seem appropriate? We don't deal in vengeance, we deal in justice."

"So you plan to put him in a small room for years on end with nothing to do." Dorgan gave him a malicious grin. "That seems fair."

"He'll have productive things to do. After we've worked out how to return him to his natural form."

"Do you plan on telling the full court about this? That seems fraught with problems."

Randor blinked. "You're right, Dorgan. I hadn't considered that, but telling the court that someone replaced Adam in this fashion could lead to serious doubts in the future." Shaking his head, he went on, "No, he will be tried before the masters."

"Well, as long as that's settled, is there anything we can do for Adam and Teela?"

Randor nodded. "They'll need supplies. Teela requested more burn ointment, and I think Adam is shivering."

"Show me, man."

He handed Dorgan the viewer, and the healer peered intently at it. "I can't see the wound, it's covered."

"I know, Dorgan, he wouldn't show it to me, but Teela says it's worse."

"What do you mean he wouldn't show it to you?"

"Oh, of course." Randor shook his head. "The imposter let us speak to them briefly, but Adam – that boy is so stubborn."

"Really?" Dorgan sputtered with wry laughter. "I wonder where he gets that particular trait? Do you suppose it could come from your side of the family? No, I shouldn't think so, after all, you're such a reasonable man."

"I am reasonable."

"Not about your health, you're not. Both of you are a terrible patients."

"Adam was a good patient, Dorgan. He was very cooperative, and he never complained."

"If he never complains, I never know what's wrong."

"Dorgan, you would object if everyone was doing exactly what you told them to."

The old healer snorted. "Regardless, that much self-control in a boy his age is alarming. I don't think you realized just how unusual his behavior was. Teela was in a temper within the first day, or very nearly."

"Adam's just sweet-natured."

"No one's that sweet-natured, Randor. He's not a saint. Sometimes I think that boy's more reserved than you are."

"Adam? Reserved?" Randor raised an incredulous brow. "He's so gregarious. He's always talking to someone, surrounded by his friends. Or helping someone else with some problem."

"That's just feckless youth, Randor. You were just the same, all blithe good humor on the surface, and your other emotions buried down deep." Dorgan shrugged. "He listens to other people's problems, but I've never heard him expressing his own."

"He talks to Duncan about his problems," Randor said bitterly.

"So do you," Dorgan pointed out. "Duncan is safe, and he's moderately wise for his age. And he tends to underreact, which helps to make your problems seem less unmanageable."

"I don't make problems seem unmanageable!" Randor protested.

Dorgan raised an eyebrow. "How many of your problems did you share with your father at his age? I know I didn't. And none of my sons did either. It's a bad age for fathers and sons. It will pass eventually."

"Will it?" Randor sighed, reflecting on his relationship with his own father. "I don't know, Dorgan." Irritation with his descent into self-pity galled him suddenly and he crossed his arms tensely. "But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting them the supplies they need."

The door opened and Duncan strode in, carrying a small satchel and several warm blankets. "I've got some of Teela's personal things in here," he said. "Have you gathered the medical supplies they'll need?"

Wasting no more time, Dorgan, Randor and Duncan put together a compact but thorough medical kit. None of them wanted to provide the imposter with any reason to return to the prison.

Duncan gazed at the neat little box of supplies, and said, "You know, Dorgan, I think this might be an excellent kit to carry in the wind raiders and other field vehicles."

"I suppose it does have more in it than the ones you have now. I'll have some made up."

Randor picked up the box of supplies, the satchel and the blankets. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

Duncan turned with a stern and forbidding expression. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"To give these things to the weasel so he can pass them along."

"I'll deliver them," Duncan said firmly, reaching out to take them from him.

"No, Duncan, you won't." Randor did not release the items. "I've had the most contact with him, and I think I am better suited to handling this situ –"

"Yes, I know you've had more contact!" Duncan expostulated. "If you think I'm going to allow you to face that villain alone when he's already attacked you once, you –"

"It's my responsibility, Duncan, and I will not shirk it!"

"Why don't you both go?" Dorgan said mildly. "There's safety in numbers, surely."

Randor exchanged a glance with Duncan, whose surly expression matched his feelings exactly. Man-at-Arms rolled his eyes heavenward. "What do you suppose people are going to think when they see us walking through the halls with a couple of parcels and a stack of blankets?"

"That you're moving in with me?" Randor suggested. "It wouldn't even seem that odd, since Marlena is leaving shortly."

"All right," Duncan said. "I think that's an excellent notion."

"What?" Randor exclaimed. "I was joking."

"I wasn't. And it would probably reassure Marlena."

"To know that you were babysitting me? I don't think I need a nanny, Duncan."

"I disagree," Dorgan said sharply. "I think both of you need nannies. Unfortunately, I'm busy, so you'll have to do for each other." They leveled identical glares at the healer. "Well, you two haven't changed much since you were boys. Run along, I've got work to do."

Randor and Duncan left the infirmary together. "That healer is an irritant," Duncan said. "But he's the best healer in Eternia."

"Or anywhere else, I'd wager," Randor agreed.

They walked in silence through the halls to Adam's room. When they arrived, Randor raised a hand to knock. Duncan reached out and opened the door. As they entered, they could see that the imposter had been exploring. One of the boxes that had carried Adam's private things from the tower room to the infirmary and back here was wide open, and the duplicate was taking things out with an amused expression.

"Ah, have you brought your little care package?" he said, looking up from a stuffed pig that Adam's mother had given him when he was three. It was battered and worn from years of hard use, but there were clear signs that it had been inexpertly repaired at various points in the past. Randor thought one of those had occurred within the last two months. "Isn't this sweet?" the imposter drawled, tossing it over his shoulder where it landed in a pile of similar objects.

"What are you doing?" Duncan demanded, irate. "There is no need for this!"

"I was looking for a diary, actually. Your prince has a tiresome number of friends and acquaintances. I thought it might help me keep track."

Randor reached down and snatched the box out of the imposter's grasp. He began stuffing Adam's things back into it. "You should have considered that in advance of taking your hostages," he snapped.

"It wasn't supposed to take this long!" the imposter declared. "That mechanic's reputation far exceeds his actual skills as far as I can see. I've been to see my machine, and it isn't even half completed!"

"You're the one who insisted on elpinar. Do you have any notion how hard that is to find?"

"The Olancans have an idol made of it. You should just go there and take it. Surely that would be enough!"

Randor glared at him. "Oh, yes, starting a war would be very helpful. If we were at war, Duncan would have no time for your machine."

"Oh no? For your prince and his little girl he wouldn't make time?" The imposter smiled insincerely at them both. "If that's the case, then perhaps I've taken the wrong hostages." He tilted his head impudently. "Perhaps I should start over? I could seize your lovely wife."

"Stay away from the queen, you rotten –" With a visible effort, Duncan bit his words off.

The imposter raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe I should have skipped straight to the top and taken you, Randor. I suspect your mechanic would do anything to get you back."

Randor put a restraining hand on Duncan's arm as his man-at-arms lunged forward. "No, Duncan, don't give him the satisfaction." As he turned back to face the imposter, Randor saw that he was prepared for an attack. One hand was upraised, and there was a shimmer of heat before it. He suppressed a shudder, and tightened his grip on Duncan.

"I'd like to point out," Randor grated, "that he won't make any headway on your machine if you damage him."

"It doesn't have to be him. It doesn't even have to be you. I'm sure you would both prefer for that charming girl's skin to remain unblemished."

Randor stood up straighter, not releasing his friend. "If you lay one violent finger on that girl, I will kill you myself, and take my chances on finding them."

The weasel's eyes grew confused. "Surely she's not your bastard? Or, you two don't plan on marrying them later? Is she the next queen of Eternia? You certainly throw them together often enough."

"They're old friends!" Duncan growled.

"We are getting far off the point. We have brought the supplies for you to send them."

"Indeed we are. Well, I shall simply have to take them to –"

Randor felt compelled to interrupt. "This isn't that large. Can't you just send it, the way you send the food?"

The imposter burst out laughing. "Of course I can! I just wanted to make you jump."

Duncan tensed behind him, but Randor just gave the double a bland look. "Well, you got what you wanted. Please send these supplies to them immediately."

"Let me see what's here, first." He opened the box and glanced at the medical supplies. "Looks fairly harmless." He flipped the folded blankets open and looked at both sides. Then he lifted the satchel. "What's in here?"

"Teela's things," Duncan said through clenched teeth. "There's nothing dangerous in there."

"That girl owns something that's not dangerous? I'm amazed." Opening the satchel, he began pulling things out and placing the on the bed. "A brush, shampoo, toothbrush, other toiletries. Hmmm. . .a clock?"

"She needs to know what time it is so she can properly dose Prince Adam. Some of those medications have fairly rigorous time schedules."

"I see. A novel? Does she read? I thought her quite the barbarian. An economics text? 'I'll be quizzing you both on chapters 12 through 17 when you get back.'" He tilted his head incredulously at Duncan. "That's awfully stringent. What, do they read really fast or are you expecting them to be there another month."

Duncan was regaining his self-control a bit. He shrugged. "Another two weeks at the least." When the weasel started to sputter, Duncan shook his head. "Elpinar is rare, and this isn't the best time of year to be searching for it. It's found at high elevations, and the snows have begun up there."

"So I'm going to have to listen to that plate-headed moron babble at me for another two weeks?" the imposter demanded.

"At least," Duncan said dryly.

"Ram-Man is very fond of Adam," Randor said sternly. "Very fond indeed."

"Are you suggesting that I should make nice with the idiot, or is that a threat?"

"It's merely an observation of fact," Randor replied. "Surely you've recognized what all these scores of friends that annoy you so much mean?"

The imposter shrugged. "He's rich."

Randor's jaw dropped, and he stared in stunned amazement at the imbecilic weasel who stood before him. "He's rich?" he said slowly, offended to the core of his being. "You think Adam has many friends because he's rich?"

"And one day he will be king. Such men always have hangers-on. It's part of the territory. I hadn't expected them to know him so well, I must admit."

Randor shook his head, as Man-at-Arms started to speak. "Never mind, Duncan, he doesn't understand."

The imposter smiled condescendingly at them, then returned to sorting through the satchel. "What's this?" he asked, holding up a little cloth bag. Duncan hid a smile. "What is this?" he demanded again.

Randor wasn't quite sure – he had an idea, but. . .

"It's a female thing," Duncan said.

"A what?"

"Are you married?" Randor asked curiously.

"No," the fellow replied, taken aback.

"Sisters?" Duncan asked.

"No! What are you on – oh, you mean that kind of –" He shoved the bag back in the satchel without looking at it again. Something crackled. He drew out a letter. "Oh, look, another saccharine missive." He unfolded it and scanned the contents. "You're not sappy at all. This is practically a to do list! A good to do list, but I still think it's rather – harsh. You people are very harsh on your children."

"You burned my son! Twice!"

The fellow gave him an odd look. "It's not the same thing at all. I'm not related."

"Thank the Elders!" Randor said prayerfully.

"I think this audience is done," the imposter said coldly.

Duncan took Randor's arm and steered him out without letting him speak further to the doppelganger. "Fine," Duncan said. "We'll be watching."

They went hurriedly to Randor's study and pulled out the viewer. Adam was laying in the bed, covered up to his chin, head propped up on the pillow against the wall. Teela sat on the chair, her feet on the bed, with a book open on her lap. Several other books lay within easy reach, and they were clearly discussing something earnestly.

Once again, Adam noticed a change in the room before anyone else did. He struggled to a sitting position, his eyes widening as he looked at a spot in the air past Teela's head. Teela dropped the book to the floor and seemed to be remonstrating with him, but Adam pointed and she turned.

The golden oval of a portal was appearing, and the weasel stepped through it. "He said he wasn't going to go!" Man-at-Arms exclaimed.

"No, he said he didn't have to go," Randor said sourly.