Chapter 12 Errors in Judgment

Teela stood up and turned to face Adam's double, taking up a protective stance. Adam kicked the blankets aside, not wanting to be hindered by their constraining presence. He tried unsuccessfully to control the shivers that coursed through him; he wanted to be on his feet if the imposter decided to get violent again.

Several blankets, Adam's pillows, a box and a bag floated into the room and settled on the table. The portal winked out.

"What do you want?" Teela asked belligerently. Adam gazed in delight at the evidence of his attack on the imposter's face.

"That's gratitude for you," the imposter said to Teela. "I'm bringing you some presents from your daddy."

"When you brought my father's presents, you burned me," Adam retorted.

"You attacked me, boy. I was merely defending myself."

"You burned him iafter/i he attacked you! That's not self-defense."

The imposter smiled at her contemptuously. "I'm in charge, I get to define terms."

"Oooh!" Adam exclaimed ironically. "Impressive!"

"Randor, I would swear your son is trying to get himself killed!" Duncan expostulated. "We are going to have a talk with him when he gets back about antagonizing dangerous criminals!"

"Duncan, he's sixteen. He thinks he's immortal."

"That's not reassuring; Teela's sixteen, too!"

"Are you aiming for a collection of handprints, boy?"

"Adam!" Teela reproached. "Lie back down and cover up!" She turned around and forced Adam back down on the bed. Adam groused, but he didn't really have the strength to fight her. When the imposter suddenly appeared over her shoulder, however, Adam pushed her away.

"Teela, look out!" Adrenalin temporarily increased his strength, and Teela bounced against the wall.

The doppelganger had both hands raised – he had been about to place them on Teela's shoulders – and he looked down at Adam with his lips twitching. "Just a tad of an overreaction, boy. I wasn't going to hurt your little girlfriend, I –"

Almost at the same moment, Teela and Adam snapped back at him. "I am not his girlfriend!" "She is not my girlfriend!"

The fellow raised his eyebrows in mock alarm. "Well, I see. So, boy, just how sick are you?"

"I'm fine!" Adam declared, pulling the blankets back and starting to stand up.

"Adam, no!" Teela glared at the imposter. "He's shocky, and he needs the attentions of a real healer!"

"Well, those he can't have – unless you want more company. I can think of a healer back at the palace that I wouldn't mind exiling."

By sheer force of will, Adam got to his feet. The imposter took a step back as Adam stood. "No one else. You will send no one else here. It's bad enough you've stuck Teela here. And if people start disappearing from the palace like that, the masters are bound to notice."

"The masters are all away from the palace just now, collecting materials for my device. All except Ram-Man and that nosy Mekanaman or whatever his name is."

"What?" Adam demanded. "Are you insane? Were you planning on sending Skeletor engraved invitations, too?"

"Oh, I'm sure that if Skeletor attacks, that He-Man person will show up and save the day. He always seems to."

Adam rolled his eyes. "He's away again. If Skeletor shows up to kidnap me again, you're on your own." The imposter actually looked worried at that.

"What?" he faltered. "That's not at all likely, is it?" His voice gaining strength, he shook his head firmly, though he still looked uneasy. "No, old boneface won't come after you for awhile now. That failure is too fresh in his mind."

"You just keep telling yourself that," Adam said. "It'll probably be reassuring right up until your two inches from Tri-Klops or Beastman – and, boy, is that a smell!"

"What is he saying?" Duncan exclaimed, peering closer.

"I don't know. If Dorgan were here, he could translate, but unlike our revered healer, I don't read lips."

"Well, he's got that imposter looking very nervous."

"I can see that. And Teela just looks amused."

"Why can't our children behave?"

Adam was enjoying the uneasy look the imposter had on his face. "– and Evil-Lyn, and Trap Jaw. . . Oh, be careful of that clamp hand of his. I think he crunched a couple of things when he grabbed me at Snake Mountain."

The duplicate's eyes flashed and he took a step toward Adam. "That's enough, boy!" He looked Adam up and down. "You're shaking, and somehow I don't think it's fear. You're too stupid for fear. Your face is flushed, you're sweating. Why don't you sit down?"

"Gee, I didn't know you cared," Adam said dryly. "I think I'd rather stand."

The imposter shot a hand out and shoved Adam sharply backwards. Losing his balance, he fell onto the bed. Teela surged forward to grab the imposter's hands. "Don't touch him!" she cried angrily. The imposter jerked one hand free and grabbed Teela's wrist.

Adam, afraid that he would attack Teela for laying hands on him, stood up again. "Don't you hurt her!" he commanded, grabbing for the imposter's free hand.

"Oh for the love of –" The imposter reached out his hand toward Adam's head, Adam felt a faint surge of something, and nothing else.

Duncan and Randor watched in silence as Adam fell to the bed. Teela released the imposter's hands and the fellow hastily made a portal. He tossed some remark over his shoulder and then left while Teela bent over the still form of the prince.

"Is he –" Randor quavered, eyes focused on his unmoving child. "He can't be –"

"I don't think he's dead, Randor. Teela's not – there, she's sitting back. She doesn't seem all that worried."

Randor nodded, relieved. If there had been something seriously wrong, Teela would be upset. "Why does Adam insist on antagonizing the weasel? Why can't he just – just –"

"Because he is who he is."

Teela straightened Adam's body on the bed and carefully covered him up with all the blankets, including the new ones. She stood over him, hands on her hips, shaking her head in exasperation. Adam had to be all right, or she wouldn't be behaving as she was. Randor sighed in relief, and sympathized with her obvious frustration.

"I'd better get back to work," Duncan said abruptly. "Who knows what he'll do if he gets the feeling I'm slacking off." Randor nodded without speaking or looking up. "Randor?" Irritated, he lifted his eyes to his friend's. His expression must have worried Duncan, for he said, "My friend, you can't watch them all day. It's not good for you."

"I have to know what's going on, Duncan." Randor shook his head at the concern in Duncan's eyes. "I hated having to drag that story out of the imposter. If Stratos hadn't shown up, I might have – I don't know what I would have done." Randor closed his eyes. "Stratos and the Sorceress watched that torture, by the way." Duncan's face went very blank, and his body stiffened. "I would rather have spared them that, but, according to Stratos, the pain enabled her to get a general fix on their location."

The man-at-arms' eyes widened, and he took a step toward him. "What? She got a fix on their location? Why didn't you tell me?"

Randor blinked, suddenly realizing that he hadn't told Duncan that yet. "Oh, Duncan, I'm so sorry. So much has been happening, I forgot who I'd told what!" He fumbled in his pocket for the map Stratos had left with him. "Apparently, they're somewhere in the Sea of Rakash."

Duncan gazed on the square of linen, his eyes absorbing the image with an almost frightening intensity. "That's where Merman dwells," he said in a quietly forceful voice. "That sea is his home, and he knows it like the back of his hand."

"Are you suggesting that he's the weasel's confederate?"

"No, I'm suggesting that he might find them first!"

This was such an appalling suggestion that it floored Randor. He stared down at where Teela was doing calisthenics. While he watched, she stopped and went to the head of the bed to check on Adam. "No – no he couldn't. We can't let him."

Duncan's entire concentration had turned inward; Randor could tell he was thinking as hard as he ever had. "I'll come up with something," he said absently, and left the study. Randor watched him go, thanking the Elders that he'd been blessed with so brilliant a friend. Think hard, Duncan, think hard.

Man-at-Arms' disturbing suggestion had done nothing toward encouraging Randor not to watch the viewer constantly, quite the reverse. He sat in the study staring at them as Teela settled down on the floor at the head of the bed with a book and started to read, pausing frequently to check Adam's condition. She didn't turn the page for quite a long time, and Randor doubted that she was getting much out of her reading. Thus far she had ignored the recently delivered packages, except for the blankets. He wondered when she would –

The door slammed open and the imposter walked in, slowly, like the invalid he was pretending to be. After closing the door behind him, he dropped the pretense and marched over to stand at the other side of the table from Randor. "Where is the queen?" he demanded angrily. "I just heard from one of the palace servants that she left with your pet bird!"

Randor looked up at him as calmly as he could. "She went to Avion for a state visit. I was supposed to go myself, but that seemed out of the question under the circumstances."

"I heard nothing about a state visit," the imposter said irately. "Surely the heir to the throne would have heard about a state visit."

"Actually, Adam's always complaining that we forget to tell him things." Randor shrugged. "He's not always the most reliable boy, and we tend to leave him out of things on occasion. Frankly, he's not usually interested." Randor sent silent apologies to his son. He found bad-mouthing him this way before his double to be unbelievably distasteful. He hated to imagine what Adam would think if he could hear him, and he suddenly prayed that the imposter wouldn't share this conversation with him.

"But I'm not Adam. You should have given me advance warning of such a plan." He studied Randor through narrowed eyes. "I guess you haven't learned your lesson after all."

"What now?" Randor asked, standing up. "Do you give me a new handprint? Make me match my son?"

"It's a thought," the imposter snapped.

Randor skinned out of his shirt and folded it neatly, placing it on the table as he walked around to stand before the imposter, who stared at him in befuddled vexation. "Well, aren't you going to –"

Apparently he'd pushed the weasel farther than he thought he had, for he found himself flying through the air. Slamming against the wall between the windows knocked the breath out of him and made his vision go black for a moment. He slid down to the floor, fighting to stay conscious. This was going to thrill Duncan when he found out about it.

Assuming that he lived long enough tell him. The fellow loomed over him, seeming taller than Adam's height from Randor's unaccustomed perspective. "Don't make fun of me, old man," he said in icy tones. "I don't like it."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Randor said, blinking his eyes to straighten out his vision. "I was cooperating."

"Oh, of course." Bending, he seized Randor by the forearm and jerked him forward. Randor hissed as he felt the blisters pop, and he fell heavily on his hands and knees. His bad knee shrieked in protest. He was filled with the urge to grab the imposter and throttle him, but he didn't dare give in to it, not while Adam and Teela lay within his control. He was shaking his head and trying to stand when he felt an extraordinarily warm hand on his back. Randor froze. Dared he try to get away, or would that merely enrage the fellow further?

Pressure on his back forced him to the floor; it felt almost as if the fellow were kneeling on him, but Randor could see the double's legs to the side of his body. More magic, no doubt. An all too familiar sensation of searing heat built up under the weasel's hand. Randor had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from screaming, and his head ached from his clenched jaw. The pain passed into the realm of unendurable. Randor's existence narrowed briefly to the agony of the burning skin. When he came to himself again, the imposter had released the pressure him holding him to the floor. The weasel stood up and walked to the doorway. "Keep me informed from now on, Father. I'm certain that you can guess which things I will want to know." He opened the door, and Randor heard footsteps in the hall.

Randor heard Duncan's voice as he greeted the imposter. "Hello, Adam."

"You might want to give him a few minutes, Duncan. He's not really up to visitors right now, I don't think." He could hear the smirk in the fellow's voice and cursed him for it. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but only succeeded in getting back onto his hands and knees before he fell flat again, nausea and pain almost overwhelming him.

"Randor!" Duncan cried. He activated his comlink. "Dorgan, to the king's study, stat." The king heard the door close, and then Duncan fell to his knees beside him. "Randor, what happened?"

"What do you think?" Randor asked through gritted teeth. Speaking caused his body to move in ways that hurt. "I told him she'd gone on a state visit, and this was his response. I'm glad I sent her away." Duncan sat as if stunned, staring down at him. Randor tried to raise his head to look at him, but the world spun. He held tightly to consciousness. "Don't tell Marlena. There's nothing she could do. It would only upset her."

"Randor, I can't promise that," Duncan said. "I –"

"Don't tell her, Duncan!"

The door opened again, and Dorgan ran in, shutting it swiftly behind him. He was silent for a moment, then he said in dead sort of voice. "This can't go on, Duncan. It can't. He won't have any skin left."

"It won't. I'm going to go –"

"No, Duncan!" Randor growled. "You can't endanger Adam and Teela!"

"I can't let him go on burning you every time he gets irritated, either."

"I'll be fine." Randor tried again to drag himself to his feet, but Dorgan forestalled him. He felt a prick in his arm, and an inflow of something cold, and the world went dark.

Adam awoke to the sound of Teela snoring. She was flat on the floor, her head on one of the pillows that the imposter had brought with his last visit, sleeping like a baby. However, she wasn't covered up, as she had put all the blankets they had on him. He sat up and stretched, then winced at the twinging of his burns. He felt a great deal better, but he didn't remember going to sleep. There was food on the table, spare ribs, peas and some kind of vegetable casserole. Was it lunch? Or dinner? Adam wasn't sure. How long had he slept?

A memory came to him unbidden, and the image of the imposter's hand coming toward his face gave Adam pause. Catching his breath sharply with alarm, he abruptly remembered the fellow grabbing Teela. Grimacing at his weakness and the tenderness of the cat scratches on his thigh, he got up and knelt down beside her. He picked up her wrists and started to look for signs of injury.

Then he landed on his rear as she shoved him away, coming awake all at once. She rolled to her feet, ready for action. "Teela, it was just me!"

"Adam?" Teela stood up, and gazed down at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, barring a bruise or two on my behind. What about you?"

She looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean? I'm not hurt."

"He grabbed you, I thought he might have –" Adam shuddered. He couldn't bring himself to say it. I thought he might have burned you.

"Well, he didn't. He just knocked you out and left." She put out a hand to him, her left to grab his uninjured right. He took it and she helped him to his feet. "Sit down. Are you feeling all right?" She checked his temperature with the back of her hand.

"I'm fine, Teela, I feel a lot better." He walked over and looked at the steaming food on the table. "Typical. Two plates, but still only one chair."

"Suits me," Teela said. She picked up a plate and sat down on the floor. Adam, who'd been about to yield the chair to her as the lady present, shrugged and sat down. "What did he bring with him besides the bedding?"

"Medical supplies and toiletries it looks like. I didn't really look that closely."

Adam picked up a rib and walked over to the box. Teela was applying herself to her food with gusto. Adam wasn't very hungry, but he gnawed on the rib bone anyway, knowing that he'd better eat.

He opened the satchel that lay next to the box. "Oh, I guess someone got your stuff together for you. I don't use these," he said, holding up a little bundle of hair ties. "What else is in here?" He pulled out the usual sort of objects and a little bag that he'd seen Teela pack on camping expeditions. She'd always seemed kind of defensive about it, so he just set it aside without mentioning it. "Hey, Teela, there are a couple of letters in here."

She looked up. Setting her plate aside, she walked over. "Let me see those." Glancing at both of them, she handed one to him. "This one's for you."

Adam snatched it eagerly – had his father written another letter? Maybe there was news about his mother or Cringer.

Dear Adam,

Quit antagonizing him! Don't allow yourself to dwell on the situation. We'll get you out. Enough said.

Duncan

"Oh," he muttered, disappointed. "It's from Man-at-Arms." He glanced at the ceiling, wondering just how much they'd been able to see of what had been going on here. He leaned over Teela's shoulder. "What does yours say?"

Contrary to his expectations, she didn't hide it from him. She handed it to him, saying, "At least my father doesn't sound like he's trying to say good-bye."

Adam gave her a puzzled look. Then he realized what she must mean. "You read my letter!"

She gave an embarrassed shrug. "It was out on the table that first day, and I was trying to find out what I could about what was going on." Adam was speechless and hurt that she hadn't told him before this. Unable to come up with a sufficiently stinging reply, he looked at her letter.

Dear Teela,

We will get you out of there. Don't worry about that. Now, do not antagonize the weasel who is holding you. Do not attack him. Do not allow Adam to antagonize or attack him. Take care of yourself, take care of Adam. Study. Everything will be fine, but it may take a few weeks to bring you home. I will do my best to speed things up. I love you.

Your Father

A few weeks? Adam looked up at Teela, stunned. "A few weeks?" he asked aloud. "We'll kill each other if we're stuck in here alone for a few weeks."

Teela shrugged fatalistically. "There's nothing we can do about it, though, so there's no point in worrying about it. We'll just have to give each other what space we can." She glanced over at the chamberpot. "Starting right now. Could you turn around?"

Reddening, Adam turned his back on her and tried not to hear anything. He picked up his comb off the chest in the corner and started to comb his hair. It was disgusting. He hadn't been able to wash it since he'd arrived, and though he could tell that Teela had bathed him – and he didn't want to think about that too closely – she obviously hadn't washed his hair.

"Okay," she called. He turned around.

"Where's that basin?" he asked. She pointed, and he looked at it.

"You want to wash your hair, don't you?" she asked.

"Um, yeah."

"Well, you've got to be careful of your arm. Let me help you." She poured the water over his head for him, and between them they got his hair clean. "This guy doesn't seem to have planned very far ahead, does he?" she commented, pouring the soapy water into the chamberpot where it magically vanished. "I mean, no towels."

"Count your blessings. For the first three days all the water I had was one glass that came with my meals."

"You're kidding!" She shook her head at the thought. "No wonder you reeked."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, Teela. You're a joy to have around." She opened her mouth as though to apologize, but he grimaced and shrugged. "No, I know I did."

"So, what are we going to do now?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, I've had some interesting thoughts about the Pelian war that I wanted to talk to you about."

"Really?" She gave him a surprised look. "You haven't wanted to talk about that in awhile."

He shrugged. "Since coming here, I haven't had much else that I wanted to think about."

"Okay, fine. Eat your dinner and tell me about it."

"I'm not really hungry."

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip apologetically. "I think I know why. I gave you some glop before I lay down for a nap."

"Glop?" he asked in chagrin. "How much of that did they send?"

"Quite a lot in that first care package. I think they were expecting you to be sick. Those scratches were pretty bad, and that poison –" She shuddered.

"Well, I really am feeling better," he said. He blinked and yawned broadly. His energy was fading. "But I'm getting tired again."

"Burns take a lot of energy to heal. And then there's everything else on top of it. Why don't you lie down again, and –"

"I feel like I've spent the last two days asleep," he complained.

"Not quite the last two days, more like the last day and a half. You should listen to my father," she added, pointing to the note. Adam sighed. He knew he should, but he couldn't stand the rotten duplicate pain in the neck. And the thought that he was pretending to be him back at the palace made him want to –

"Teela! Has he been losing his temper at the palace, do you suppose? What if he hurts someone?"

"Adam, there's nothing we can –"

Adam shook his head in frustration at her denseness. "He looks like me, Teela! If he hurts someone, people will think it's me who did it."

"Oh," she said, looking dismayed. "I hadn't thought about that." Adam groaned. "We'll work that out when we get back home." She looked at his worried face. "Come on, Adam, what did you think of about the Pelian wars? And even if you don't want to sleep, at least sit on the bed, Adam."

Sighing, Adam did as she asked, and started to delineate his ideas. Teela started asking really stupid questions. He knew she was trying to jockey him out of his dark mood, but he went along with it, sort of hoping it would work. Soon she was sitting on the chair by the bed, and their heads were close together as they looked through books.

Randor woke up lying on his stomach. His back was aching and he had no idea what time it was. He rolled over on to his side and sat up. The infirmary room he was in was very dark, but there was light under the door. He stood up very gingerly, being careful both of his back and of his head, walked over to the door and opened it. The infirmary was all but deserted, and all of the windows were dark. Dorgan sat at a table playing solitaire.

"How long was I asleep, Dorgan?"

The healer looked up, his eyes shadowed. "How are you feeling, Randor?"

"Well, my back hurts, my arm hurts, and my head hurts."

"You were out longer than you should have been." Dorgan's weary face was a mask of guilt. "I didn't know you'd hit your head. You had a concussion and I sedated you."

"What happened?"

"You went into a fairly severe shock. Fortunately, we realized what happened in time." He sighed deeply. "You started reacting atypically once you were in the infirmary, and Jonis examined you. He found the knot on the back of your head –"

"Jonis?" Randor exclaimed. "But – no one is supposed to know!"

"All he and the other two healers who were working on you know is that you were injured by an unknown assailant and that I screwed up. Badly."

"Dorgan, don't be so hard on yourself."

"I nearly killed you, Randor," Dorgan said, his voice harsh. "I'm not being too hard on myself." His brows knit. "You should be sitting down, your highness." Randor nodded, and walked over to the chair next to Dorgan's.

"Well, Dorgan, it sounds like we're both doing wonderfully well. I allowed my son to get abducted out of my own palace – out of his own room – twice in a three month span. And now I have an imposter living in the palace, doing as he pleases."

"I have been contemplating a solution to that very problem, Randor. I think you need to go have a serious conversation with that man, here, in company with Duncan and me."

"You? He can't know that –"

"After what just happened, if he thinks your chief healer would be ignorant that something was seriously wrong, he's stupider than I think he is." Dorgan shook his head. "He needs to understand that he cannot keep injuring you both in this way. It will not benefit his cause."

"The only one of us he needs whole is Duncan," Randor said sourly.

"That reminds me," Dorgan said, getting up and crossing the room to the door. He stuck his head out and spoke to the guard outside. Turning back to Randor, he said, "Man-at-Arms asked me to send for him when you woke up."

Randor folded his arms on the table and leaned heavily on them. His newest injuries pained him as he shifted, but he didn't think there were many positions that wouldn't cause him discomfort. The burn between his shoulder blades seemed to be attached to every muscle in his body. He studied the skin on the back of his hands, unable to lift his eyes. This would not be a pleasant interview. Dorgan sat down next to him and gripped his upper arm reassuringly. "He can't know you know, Dorgan. I can't take the risk that he'll cripple Adam."

"At the rate he's going, neither of you will be in very good shape. And you said it yourself, Randor. The only one of you he needs whole is Duncan." Randor didn't know how to respond to the truth of this. "Let me put it to you another way. What if he lets his irritation out on some random member of the court? He's already attacked Mekanek." Randor swallowed convulsively. He had been trying to avoid that possibility, trying to draw the fellow's attention to himself.

"You're right," Randor said, gritting his teeth. "Obviously I haven't been doing enough to keep his annoyance focused on me and only me."

"Are you out of your mind?" Dorgan demanded forcefully. "That's not a solution! And he seems to regard Adam as an extension of you." The healer stood up explosively and walked across to the wall opposite the king. "How better to hurt you than to hurt your only child? And what makes you think he'll leave either you or Adam alive at the end of this?"

Randor sat up straight, wincing slightly. "By the Elders, I didn't – I haven't –" It was true. Everything he'd done to one of them thus far, leaving the jungle cat aside, he'd done to the other.

"We've none of us been thinking straight, sire." Dorgan raised his eyes heavenward and leaned back against the wall. "What alarms me most is the escalation he's displaying. And how little it's beginning to take to set him off. You didn't lay hands on him, did you?"

Randor shook his head. "He seemed to think I was taunting him. But he wasn't actually –" Randor shuddered. "He wasn't punishing me for that. I didn't tell him that Marlena would be away, and he found that irritating."

Dorgan blinked a few times. "I see. So, to his mind, a severe burn is just return for being left out of the loop. This monster really needs to die."

"I agree, Dorgan, he needs to be dealt with. But while he has Adam and Teela –"

"Have you got anyone searching for them yet?"

Randor sighed and shook his head. "I haven't dared launch a search. Besides, until recently we had not even the vaguest hint of where they might be."

The door opened abruptly, causing Randor's entire body to tense. It was only Duncan, but he had difficulty forcing himself to relax again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his gut. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach at the mere thought that the imposter might be entering the room. He closed his eyes, willing his muscles to loosen. Then Duncan closed the door and the sound of the latch caused him to stiffen again. This had to stop.

Observant as always, Duncan walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Randor, are you all right?"

Randor took another deep breath, exhaling very slowly, ignoring the twinge in his back brought on by Duncan's touch. "I'm fine, Duncan. Have you been watching them?"

"Yes." Without being asked or making any comment, Duncan handed the viewer to him. Turning a chair around backwards, he sat down across it, clasping his hands together over the back. Randor looked down at the image in the magical object. Both of their children were sound asleep, once more spooning together, no doubt for comfort as well as warmth.

"It's been quiet there all day. He's made no move on them since –" He gestured at Randor's injury.

Randor concentrated on keeping his breathing even. "Good."

"I have a plan, sire. I think I know who we can send to look for them."

Hopeful words at last! Randor leaned forward. "Indeed, Duncan? What do you suggest?"

Instead of answering immediately, Man-at-Arms turned to Dorgan and said, "How long do we realistically have?"

"He'll go nose first into the table in about an hour."

"That long?"

"I thought we needed the time."

"What are you two talking about?" Randor demanded.

"You have been severely injured, sire. You have great stamina, but it's been eroded by the repeated attacks and the stress you've been under. I've given you some stimulants – carefully chosen not to interact badly with the concussion. But your energy will give out before long, so we'd best concentrate on our plans."

"How long will I sleep when this wears off?" Randor asked dubiously.

"A good piece of tomorrow, I should think," Dorgan said thoughtfully. "And you've had enough painkillers to stop a horse."

"That's unacceptable." Dorgan's eyes widened at his tone. "I can't afford to be out for that long during this crisis. I can collapse when this is over. Right now, I have to be able to function. Is there anything you can do for me, Dorgan?"

"Randor, you have to sleep," Duncan protested. "If you –"

"I plan to, Duncan. But not all day. Wake me at seven. No later."

The healer and the man-at-arms exchanged a worried look, but Dorgan only said, "Yes, sire."

"Now, Duncan, what is your plan?"

"Randor, can't we persuade you to sleep longer –"

"No, Man-at-Arms," Randor said flatly. "Tell me your plan."

Duncan stiffened at the assumption of kingly authority, but nodded. "I propose we send for Man-E-Faces to return at once. He should be back with the dendromine any time now in any case. Then we send him with two of the palace guard, Raon and Jeffrin by preference, to search the Sea of Rakash."

"Have you got the equipment prepared?"

"I do."

"And have you already sent for Manny?"

Duncan gave him a wry smile. "I have."

Randor nodded. "Glad to see you're keeping on top of things."

"They should take a medic as well," Dorgan said. "To look after Adam and take care of any injuries that might crop up."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" Randor asked.

"Sevedra," Dorgan said decisively. "She's unflappable and is an expert in trauma. And she's already partially in on the secret, which clears one possible leak out of the capital."

"It looks like you two already have things well in hand," Randor said, pleased to hear that they had been busy while he lay unconscious.

"Good, then you can sleep longer," Duncan said persuasively.

Randor gave Duncan a mildly hostile look. "No, I can't," he said firmly. "There are decisions that only I can make."

"We'll wake you if one of those comes up."

Dorgan nodded. "Yeah, like if you want fruit with your waffles."

"Both of you, stop. I'm not going to give in on this."

Duncan gave him a look that said they weren't through, but Randor ignored it. "Have you spoken to Raon and Jeffrin yet?"

"No. I thought I'd best discuss it with you first." He shrugged. "They should be waiting outside by now, though. And I expect Manny's there, too."

"He's already here?"

Duncan stood up. "He should be. Shall I have them come in? The imposter's sleeping. I had Orko check. I think we'd better get this done quickly before he wakes up."

Randor nodded, and Duncan let the master and the two soldiers in. All three looked worried to have been summoned into the king's presence at such an hour in such a place. Their eyes widened when they saw him, naked to the waist, sitting at the table.

"Your highness, are you well?" Manny exclaimed. "You – Duncan, you said he'd been injured, but not how seriously."

"I'm fine," Randor said irritably. "I –"

"Sire, you're white as a sheet! And I can tell that you've been given some very strong stimulants." He turned to Duncan. "He looks on the verge of a collapse! What has been going on here?"

"Prince Adam has been abducted by an imposter who has been torturing both the prince and the king, in part by forcing the king to watch while he torments his son."

There was dead silence in the room until Dorgan let out a long, low whistle. "My, that was succinct."

"When did this happen?" Manny asked slowly, his voice low with horror.

"The day Cringer attacked Adam was the first," Randor said.

"Well, that explains a lot," Raon said, eyes wide. "I had difficulty imagining even Beastman getting Cringer to go after Adam."

Randor sat forward, leaning on his elbows. "Duncan left out one salient point. Day before yesterday, the imposter abducted Teela as well." Manny blinked briefly to growl as Man-E-Monster, then back to his human face.

Jeffrin, unused to such exalted company, cleared his throat apologetically. "Is that what happened to Mekanek?"

"Yes," Randor said. "Actually, Man-at-Arms left out several points. The imposter has also threatened the queen, Man-at-Arms himself, and Cringer, as well as bespelling Mekanek."

"What's happened to Prince Adam, sire?" Raon asked tentatively. Randor recalled suddenly that Raon had been among Adam's playmates when they were boys. "And Captain Teela, has she been harmed?"

"Apart from being locked up in a small space, Teela has not been harmed thus far. Adam has –" Randor's voice failed him. He clenched his teeth together and took a deep breath. Raon's expression grew more alarmed by the second as Randor failed to continue. Manny just looked more neutral than ever, practically resembling his robot form. Poor Jeffrin's eyes were so wide that he looked about twelve.

"Adam has been burned," Dorgan said flatly.

"How badly?" Raon asked, appalled.

"Take a look at the king's back," Dorgan said.

Randor blinked. They did have to know what they would be facing. "Will they be able to see it?" he asked. "Isn't it bandaged? It feels stiff."

"There is a gel over it that has formed a second skin, but the gel itself is transparent." Nodding, Randor stood, steadying himself against the table, and turned so that they could see the wound. After a moment, Dorgan said, "The prince has one of those on his chest and one on his arm."

"Handprints?" Jeffrin squeaked.

As Randor turned back, Manny caught his eye. "Sire?" he asked, glancing at the bandage on Randor's arm. Sighing, the king nodded. Jeffrin and Raon looked sick. "Is that all?"

"Isn't it enough?" Dorgan growled. Manny was clearly taken aback by this reaction, and Dorgan sighed. "Unfortunately, no. He was starved for a time, has been thrown around by magical blows, has been bespelled, and, ludicrous as it sounds, has been gored by a wild animal. All of that on top of being stuck in a tiny space with nothing to do for days and without more than the most basic of sanitary facilities –"

This list, baldly stated, made Randor's insides go cold. "Thank you, Dorgan, I think they have the idea," he said.

His tone apparently alarmed Duncan, who put a hand on his shoulder. "I think it's time for the king to get some sleep."

Randor shook his head. "No, I have to speak with Orko."

"Orko?" Duncan asked incredulously. "Surely that can wait."

Dorgan looked at Randor's face, and stood up. "Men, I think I'd best take you to meet your fourth team member, Medic Sevedra. She does not yet have all of this information, so we'd best fill her in. Come along."

"I'll join you all in a few moments to give you more detailed instructions," Duncan said.

They all filed out leaving Randor alone with Duncan. "Randor, why Orko?"

"I promised to speak with him last night."

"I'm sure, under the circumstances, that he will understand."

"No, Duncan, something was worrying him. Something about Adam. Something he didn't really want to tell me. Given Orko's propensity for babbling out the most embarrassing of secrets, that alarms me."

Duncan's eyes widened. "All right, I'll get him."

As Man-at-Arms left the room, Randor sat up straighter, fighting against the weariness that threatened to overtake him. He had begun over the last few minutes to realize just how powerful the painkillers must have been, because they had started to wear off. He clung to the pain as a means to keep him awake. It seemed an eternity when Duncan at last opened the door and ushered the little jester in. His eyes were wide and he looked worried.

"Your highness, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

Randor tried to give Orko a reassuring smile, but from the expressions on both Duncan and Orko's faces, the effect must have been ghastly. "Yes, Orko. You started to tell me something the other day, something that worried you about Adam. You can tell me what it is."

"Um," Orko gulped and pulled at the neck of his robes. "It's nothing, really."

Randor sighed and spoke gently to the Trollan, who floated nervously beside Man-at-Arms. "Orko, tell me what concerns you about Adam."

"Well . . ." Orko started hesitantly. Gulping, he started speaking very rapidly. "Aside from the fact that he's being awfully mean to everybody, which isn't like him, and not visiting Cringer, even against your orders, I think he's been playing around with something magical in his room. Something that might be, um, dangerous."

"Why haven't you said something about this before?" Duncan asked.

Orko began fiddling with the hem of his robe. "I – I didn't want to get him in trouble. He's been really mad at me lately, and I didn't know what was going on. And I thought you knew, because sometimes when the magic was happening, the king was in his room with him."

"I think I understand, Orko. Well, Duncan?" Randor raised an eyebrow.

Duncan looked heavenward, then sighed. "Orko, that isn't Adam."

Orko bobbed with alarm. "It isn't? Then where is he?"

Randor stood up. "Orko, Man-at-Arms knows what's going on, he'll fill you in. Duncan, I leave this in your capable hands." Ignoring Duncan's mildly betrayed expression, Randor handed him the viewer. "I'm going to bed. Remember, Duncan, seven, no later."

As he rose to his feet, his vision blackened and he felt himself falling. Before he hit the floor, however, something caught and cradled him. He blinked his eyes back into focus and discovered that he was floating seven or eight inches off the floor. "What on Eternia?" he demanded weakly.

"I caught you, your highness," Orko burbled, sounding pleased with himself. The Trollan was always so glad to be of help. Randor tried to relax, but he felt like he was going to fall to the floor at any moment. "Hey, what happened to your back?"

"Never mind that for now, Orko," Duncan said, his voice full of alarm. "I'll explain in a minute. Just put the king down."

"In there?" Orko asked. Randor bobbed along, rising somewhat as Orko guided him toward the bed. Duncan kept putting his hands out – toward him – toward Orko – as though not sure what he could safely do. Randor heaved a sigh of relief as Orko deposited him gently on the bed, and then he fell into a profound slumber.