The room that O'Leary was shown to was forty feet long, thirty wide, carpeted, tapestried and gilt decorated. There was an immense four-poster bed, a vast, carved wardrobe, a gaily decorated chamber pot in a rosewood stand, a tall mirror in a frame, and a row of curtained windows with a view of lanterns strung in a garden where fountains played among moonlit statues of nymphs and satyrs. He tried a door, looked into a cedar-lined closet filled with elaborate costumes on satin-covered hangers. Another door opened into a tiny chapel, complete with a wheel of Goop and a fresh package of sacrificial incense sticks. There was one more door. O'Leary paused to give thought to what would be behind it, picturing the details of a cozy tiled bath with heated floor, glassed-in shower stall, plenty of hot water . . . He reached for the knob, swung the door wide, stepped through.
There was a loud squeal. Lafayette halted, staring. In the center of the small room was a long wooden tub containing soapy water and a girl. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, a few bubbles provided inadequate concealment for her charms. She stared back at him, amazement on her pretty features.
"Wha . . .?" Lafayette stammered. "Where . . . but I was just . . ." He waved a hand vaguely toward the door.
The girl gazed at him wide-eyed. "You—you must be the new wizard, sir!" She took the towel from the rack attached to the side of the tub and stood up, wrapping it around herself.
"I—I'm sorry!" O'Leary blurted, his eyes straying to the expanse of white thigh revealed by the skimpy towel "I was just—I mean—" He stared around at shelves stacked with clean sheets and towels.
"Something's wrong here," he said protestingly. "This was supposed to be a bathroom!"
The girl giggled. "You can have my bath, sir, I'd hardly started."
"But it wasn't supposed to be like this! I had in mind a nice tile bath, and a shower and plenty of hot water and soap and shaving cream—"
"This water's just right, sir," the girl stepped out onto the rug, loosened the towel and began modestly drying her neck, holding the towel more or less in front of her. "I'm Daphne; I'm the upstairs chambermaid."
"Gosh, miss, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just—"
"I've never met a real magician before," Daphne said. "It was so exciting! One minute I was right there in my room, looking at the crack in the plaster, and the next—zip! Here I was!"
"You were somewhere else—taking a bath?" Lafayette frowned. "I must have made a mistake. Probably distracted by all the excitement."
"I heard about the fete," the girl said. "It is exciting. There hasn't been a real affair in the palace for months, not since that horrible ogre Lod came with his men under a truce flag to woo Princess Adoranne."
"Look, ah, Daphne, I have to get ready; after all, I'm sort of the guest of honor, so—"
"Oh." Daphne looked disappointed. "You didn't summon me on purpose?"
"No. Ah, I mean, I have to take a bath now."
"Would you like me to scrub your back?"
"No, thanks." O'Leary felt himself blushing. "I'm sort of used to bathing myself. But thanks just the same. But, uh, maybe I'll see you at the party."
"Me, sir? But I'm only a chambermaid! They won't even let me watch from the kitchen door!"
"Nonsense! You're as pretty as any of them! Come as my guest."
"I couldn't, sir! And beside, I haven't a thing to wear." She tucked the towel demurely about her slender figure, smiling shyly.
"Well, I think that can be fixed." Lafayette turned to the clothes closet, considering. "What size do you wear, Daphne?"
"Size? Why, as you see, sir . . ." She held her arms from her sides, twirled slowly around. Lafayette took a deep, calming breath, fixed his eyes on the closet, concentrating. He opened the door, glanced over the array of finery, reached, pulled out a pink-and-gold-brocaded gown.
"How about this?"
She gasped. "It's lovely, sir! Is it really for me?"
"It certainly is. Now, just run along like a good girl; I'll be looking forward to seeing you at the party."
"I've never seen anything so pretty." She took the dress tenderly in her arms. "If you'll just lend me a robe, sir, I'll be off like a flash. I know just where I can borrow a pair of shoes to go with it, and . . ."
Lafayette found a terry-cloth robe, bundled it about her shoulders and saw her to the door.
"I'd like to apologize again about, ah, disturbing you in your bath," he said. "It was just an accident."
"Think nothing of it, sir." She smiled up at him. "This is the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. Who'd have ever thought magicians were so young—and so handsome?" She went to tiptoes, kissed him quickly on the end of the nose, then turned and darted away along the hall.
There was a rap at the door as Lafayette was buttoning the last gilt button on the dark blue coat he had selected from the dozens in the closet.
"Come in," he called. He heard the door open behind him.
"I hope you don't mind my barging in on you," a deep voice said. Lafayette turned. Nicodaeus, trim in a gray outfit, closed the door behind him. He took out a pack of cigarettes, offered them and lit up with what appeared to be a Ronson lighter.
"Say, you're the first one I've seen smoking cigarettes here," O'Leary said. "And that lighter—"
Nicodaeus fingered the lighter, looking at O'Leary. "Plenty of time for explanations later, my young friend. I just wanted to take a few minutes before the festivities begin to, er, have a little chat with you."
"I want to thank you for helping me out this evening." Lafayette buckled on his sword belt, paused to admire the cut of his new knee breeches in the mirror. "For a while there, it looked like old Goruble had his heart set on railroading me into the Iron Maiden. What's eating the old boy?"
"He had an idea that if you knew a little magic, you might be a big help in the upcoming war with Lod's rebels. He was a bit put out when you denied it. You must excuse him; he's rather naïve in some ways. I was glad to help you out; but frankly, I'm a little curious about you myself. Ah . . . if you don't mind telling me, why are you here?" In the mirror O'Leary watched the magician, still fiddling with the lighter.
"Just a sight-seeing trip."
"You've never visited Artesia before?"
"Nope. Not that I know of. There was one dream I remember, about a glass house and a telescope—but there's probably no connection." He turned suddenly. Close behind him, Nicodaeus started and dropped the lighter in his pocket.
"What's that you had in your hand?" O'Leary demanded. "What are you creeping up behind me for?"
"Oh, that . . ." Nicodaeus blinked, smiling weakly. "Why, it's, ah, a little camera; you see I have a hobby—candid shots—and I just—"
"Let me see it."
Nicodaeus hesitated, then dipped into the pocket of his weskit and fished it out. It was made in the shape of a lighter—even worked as one, O'Leary saw—but it was heavy. And there were tiny dials set in its back. He handed it back. "I guess I'm overly suspicious, after being threatened by a number of horrible fates in less than two hours."
"Think nothing of it, my dear O'Leary." Nicodaeus glanced at the other's hand. "Ah, I noticed your ring. Very interesting design. Mind if I have a closer look at it?"
O'Leary shook his head. "I can't take it off. What's so interesting about a ring?"
Nicodaeus looked grave. "The device of the ax and dragon happens to have a peculiar significance here in Artesia. It's the insignia of the old royal house. There's an old prophecy—you know how people pretend to believe in that sort of thing—to the effect that the kingdom will be saved in its darkest hour by a, ahem, hero, riding a dragon and wielding an ax. He was supposed to appear bearing a symbol of his identity. I suppose that annoying clown Yokabump spotted the ring—he has sharp eyes—and improvised the rest. Luckily for you, I might add. He could have set up a howl that it was an evil charm. Lod carried an ax, you see, and of course he owns a dragon."
Lafayette glanced sharply at Nicodaeus, then laughed. "You almost sound as though you believed in the monster yourself."
Nicodaeus chuckled comfortably. "A mere fable, of course. Still, I'd wear the ring reversed if I were you."
"I can't help wondering," O'Leary said, "why should you care what happens to me any more than the rest of them? They all seem to want to see me strung up by the ears."
"Just a natural desire to help a stranger in distress," Nicodaeus answered, smiling. "After all, having saved you from a session with the hot irons, I have a sort of proprietary interest in seeing you safely through."
"At one point you just about had Goruble convinced I was a spy."
"A red herring; I wanted to distract him from the sorcery aspect. Like all Artesians, he's prey to superstition."
"Then I was right; you're not native here."
"Actually, I'm not," the magician admitted. "I, ah, come from a country to the south, as a matter of fact. I—"
"They must be way ahead of Artesia, technologically speaking. That lighter, for example. I'll bet you're responsible for the electric lights in the palace."
Nicodaeus nodded, smiling. "That's correct. I do what I can do to add to the amenities of palace life."
"Just what is your position here?"
"I'm an adviser to his Majesty." Nicodaeus smiled blandly. "He thinks I'm a master of magic, of course, but among these feather-heads a little common sense is sufficient to earn one a reputation as a wise man." He smiled comfortably. "Look here, my young friend—and I think I have established that I am a friend—isn't there something that you'd care to, ah, confide in me? I could perhaps be of some assistance, in whatever it is you have in mind."
"Thanks, but I don't have anything in mind that I need help with."
"I'm sure we could work out some arrangement, to our mutual benefit," Nicodaeus went on. "I, with my established position here; you Mr. O'Leary, with your, ah, whatever you have . . ." He paused on an interrogative note.
"Call me Lafayette. I appreciate what you did for me, but I really don't need any help. Look, the party must be about to begin. Let's beat it downstairs. I don't want to miss anything."
"You're determined to pursue your course alone, I see," Nicodaeus said sadly. "Ah, well, just as you wish, Lafayette. I don't mind saying I'm disappointed. Frankly, I've gotten just a little bit bored lately. I thought—but never mind." He eyed Lafayette, nibbling his lower lip. "You know, I wonder if it wouldn't be safer for you to just slip away tonight, before the fete. If you wait until later, his Majesty is likely to start having second thoughts and send you along to the rack after all. Now, I can arrange to have a fast horse waiting—"
"I don't want to leave now, before the party," O'Leary said. "Besides," he added grinning, "I promised to kill off a dragon, remember?" Lafayette winked at Nicodaeus. "I think it might be a little difficult to kill a superstition. But I have to at least go through the motions. Meanwhile, I hear this Princess Adoranne is quite a dish."
"Careful, lad. The princess is Goruble's most jealously guarded treasure. Don't make the mistake of thinking—"
"Thinking—that's the one thing I've determined not to do, as long as I'm here," O'Leary said with finality. "Let's go, Nicodaeus. This is the first royal function I've ever been to; I'm looking forward to it."
"Well, then." Nicodaeus clapped O'Leary on the back. "On to the ball! Tonight, revelry, and tomorrow, the fight to the death!"
"Fight to the death?" O'Leary looked startled.
"You and the dragon," Nicodaeus reminded him.
"Oh, that." Lafayette smiled. Nicodaeus laughed.
"Yes, that," he said.
At the high-arched entry to the ballroom, O'Leary paused beside Nicodaeus and looked out over an expanse of mirror-polished white marble the size of a football field, crowded with the royal guests, splendid in laces and satins of every imaginable hue, gleaming in the light from the chandeliers that hung from the gold-ribbed vaults of the ceiling like vast bunches of sparkling grapes. Heads turned as the majordomo boomed out the name of Nicodaeus, then looked inquiringly at O'Leary.
"Better get on your toes, Humphries," the magician advised the beribboned official. "This is Lafayette O'Leary, the young champion who's here to rid the kingdom of Lod's monster."
"Oh, beg pardon, milord. An honor!" He bowed and pounded his staff on the floor.
"Sir Lafayette of Leary!" he trumpeted. "The King's champion!"
"I'm not a sir," Lafayette started.
"Never mind." Nicodaeus took his arm and led him along toward the nearest group. "We'll see about an earldom for you at the first opportunity. Now . . ." He nodded casually at the expectant faces that moved in to surround them. "Ladies, sirs, may I present my good friend, Sir Lafayette."
"Are you really going to fight that horrid monster?" a cuddly creature in pale blue flounces breathed, fluttering her fan. A tall, hollow-faced man with thin white hair raised a bony finger. "Ride in fast, smite the brute in the soft under-parts and get out. That's my advice, Sir Lafayette! I've always found that boldness pays."
"Will you cut off his head?" a plump blonde squeaked. "Ooooh, how terrible! Will there be much blood?"
"I'd like to be riding with you, lad," a stout gentleman with an imposing nose and a walrus mustache wheezed. "Unfortunately, my gout . . ."
Lafayette nodded, offered breezy comments, accepted a drink from a tray after giving a moment's thought to the contents and feeling the slight jar that signaled successful manipulation. No use drinking cheap booze. He tested the drink: Rémy-Martin. He tossed the first shot down and scooped up another glass. The cognac had a pleasant, warming effect. He took another from a passing tray.
A sudden murmur ran through the assemblage. Horns tootled a fanfare.
"The princess," murmured the crowd. Lafayette looked in the direction toward which necks were craning and saw a cluster of women entering through a wide archway.
"Which is Adoranne?" He nudged Nicodaeus.
"She'll appear next."
A girl strolled into view, leading a tiger cub on a leash. She was tall, slender, moving as gracefully as a swan in a gown of palest blue scattered over with tiny pearls. Her hair—the color of spring sunshine, Lafayette decided instantly—was straight, cut short in a charming style that complemented the coronet perched atop it. She had a short patrician nose—at least it was the kind of nose that suggested that word to O'Leary—large blue eyes, a perfectly modeled cheek and chin line. Her figure was that of a trained athlete: trim, slim, vibrant with health. Lafayette tried to take a deep breath, his lips puckering instinctively for a long low whistle of admiration, but managed only a gasp.
"What's the matter?" Nicodaeus whispered.
"Now I know what they mean by breathtaking," he muttered. "Come on." He started through the crowd.
"Where are you going?" Nicodaeus plucked at his sleeve.
"I want to meet the princess."
"But you can't approach royalty! You have to wait for her to summon you!"
"Oh, don't let's bother with all that protocol. I want to see if she looks as marvelous up close as she does from here."
He pushed through between two bony dowagers just rising from creaky curtseys and smiled at the girl as she turned inquiringly toward him.
"Hi," Lafayette said, looking her over admiringly. "They told me you were beautiful, but that was the understatement of the year. I didn't know I could imagine anything this nice."
A big young man with curly dark hair and cigarette-ad features stepped forward, flexing Herculean shoulders that threatened to burst his royal blue gold-braid-looped tunic. He inclined his head to the princess, then turned to give O'Leary a warning look.
"Withdraw, bumpkin," he said in a low voice.
O'Leary waved a hand. "Go play with your blocks." He started around the man, who took a quick step to bar his way.
"Are you deaf, oaf?" he rapped.
"No, I'm Lafayette O'Leary, and if you don't mind, I'd like to—"
The young Hercules put a finger against O'Leary's chest. "Begone!" he hissed fiercely.
"Now, now, no rough stuff in front of the princess," O'Leary admonished, brushing the hand aside.
"Count Alain," a cool feminine voice said. Both men turned. Princess Adoranne smiled an intimate little smile at the count and turned to Lafayette.
"This must be the brave man who's come to rid us of the dragon." She tugged at the leash as the tiger cub came snuffling around O'Leary's ankles. "Welcome to Artesia."
"Thanks." Lafayette nudged the count aside. "I didn't exactly come here to kill dragons, but since I'm here, I don't mind helping out."
"Have you slain many dragons, Sir Lafayette?" She smiled at him coolly.
"Nope, never even saw one." He winked. "Did you?"
"Adoranne's lips were parted in an expression of mild surprise. "No," she admitted. "There is but one, of course—the beast of the rebel Lod."
"I'll bring you his left ear—if dragons have ears."
The princess blushed prettily.
"Fellow, you're overbold," Alain snapped.
"If I'm going to go dragon hunting, that's a characteristic I've been advised to cultivate." Lafayette moved closer to the princess. "You know, Adoranne, I really should have demanded half the kingdom and your hand in marriage."
Count Alain's hand spun O'Leary around; his fist hovered under Lafayette's nose.
"I've warned you for the last time."
Lafayette disengaged his arm. "I sincerely hope so. By the way, isn't there a little matter you wanted to attend to?" Lafayette envisioned an urgent physiological need.
Count Alain looked uncomfortable. "Your pardon, Highness," he said in a strained voice. He turned hastily and hurried toward an inconspicuous door.
O'Leary smiled blandly at the princess. "Nice fellow," he said. "Good friend of yours?"
"One of my dearest companions since were played together as children."
"Amazing," Lafayette said. "You remember your childhood?"
"Very well, Sir Lafayette. Do you not?"
"Well, sure, but let's not get started on that. Would you like to dance?"
The princess' ladies, drawn up in a rank behind her, sniffed loudly and moved as if to close in. Adoranne looked at O'Leary thoughtfully.
"There's no music," she said.
Lafayette glanced toward the potted palms, envisioned a swinging five-man combo behind them. They were in tuxes, and the music was on the stands, and the instruments out. The leader was saying a word to the boys now, raising a hand . . . He felt the small thump.
"May I?" Lafayette held out a hand as the opening blast of the Royal Garden Blues rang across the ballroom. Adoranne smiled, handed the cub's leash to a lady standing by and took Lafayette's hand. He drew her close—a feather-light vision of sky-blue and pearls and a faint scent of night-blooming jasmine.
"Sir Lafayette!" she gasped. "You have a strange manner with a lady."
"I'll show you a quaint native dance we do at home."
She followed without apparent difficulty as he tried out one of the Arthur Murray steps he had so often practiced solo in his room with the instruction book in his left hand.
"You follow beautifully," O'Leary said. "But then, I guess that's to be expected."
"Of course. I've been well instructed in the arts of the ballroom. But tell me, why did you agree to go out against Lod's dragon?"
"Oh, I don't know. To keep from finding out if your pop really meant what he said about hot irons, maybe."
"You jest, sir!"
"Sure."
"Tell me, did you swear some great oath to do a mighty deed?"
"Well . . ."
"And an oath of secrecy as well," she nodded, bright-eyed. "Tell me," she asked in an excited whisper, "who are you—really? The name—Sir Lafayette—does it disguise some noble title in your own land of Leary?"
"Now where did you get that idea?"
"You comport yourself not as one accustomed to bending the knee," she said, looking at him expectantly.
"Well, now that you mention it, where I come from, I don't have to kneel to anybody."
Adoranne gasped. "I knew it! How exciting! Tell me, Lafayette, where is your country? Not to the east, for there's naught but ocean there, and to the west lies only the desert stronghold of Lod."
"No fair to try to worm my secrets out of me," Lafayette said waggishly. "It's more fun if I'm mysterious."
"Very well, but promise me that when you reveal yourself, it will be first to me."
"You can count on that, honey," Lafayette assured her.
"Honey?"
"You know, sweet stuff."
Adoranne giggled. "Lafayette, you have the cutest way of putting things!"
"That's one of the nice things about being here," he said. "Usually I'm pretty dumb when it comes to light conversation."
"Lafayette, you're trying to cozen me! I'll wager there's never a moment when you're at a loss for words."
"Oh, there have been some moments. When the musketeers came to arrest me, for example. I'd been having a few quick ones with somebody called the Red Bull—"
Adoranne gasped. "You mean the infamous cutpurse and smuggler?"
"He seemed to have some illegal ideas, all right. A reflection of the anarchist in me, I suppose."
"And they arrested you!" Adoranne giggled. "Lafayette, you might have been lodged in a dungeon!"
"Oh, well, I've been in worse places."
"What thrilling adventures you must have had! A prince, wandering incognito—"
The music stopped with a clatter as though the players had tossed their instruments into a pile. Everybody clapped, calling for more. Count Alain shouldered past O'Leary, ducking his head to the princess.
"Adoranne, dare I crave the honor of the next?"
"Sorry, Al, she's taken," Lafayette took the girl's hand, started past the count, who pivoted to face him.
"'Twas not your leave I spoke for, witling!" he hissed. "I warn you, begone before I lose my temper!"
"Look, Al, I'm getting a little tired of this," Lafayette said. "Every time I'm on the verge of having an interesting chat with Adoranne, you butt in."
"Aye! a greater dullard even than yourself should see when his company's not wanted. Now get ye gone!" People were staring now as the count's voice rose.
"Alain!" Adoranne looked at him with a shocked expression. "You mustn't speak that way to . . . to . . . a guest," she finished.
"A guest? A hired adventurer, by all accounts! How dare you lay a hand on the person of the Princess Royal!"
"Alain, why can't you two be friends?" Adoranne appealed. "After all, Sir Lafayette is sworn to perform a great service to the crown."
"His kind finds it easy to talk of great deeds," Alain snapped, "but when the hour comes for action—"
"I notice you didn't volunteer, Al," O'Leary pointed out. "You look like a big strong boy—"
"Strong enough to break your head. As for dragon slaying, neither I nor any other man can face a monster bigger than a mountain, armored and fanged—"
"How do you know he's armored and fanged? Have you seen him?"
"No, but 'tis common knowledge—"
"Uh-huh. Well, Alain, you run along now. After I've killed this dragon I'll let you come out with a tape measure and see just how big he is—unless you're too shy, that is."
"Shy, eh!" The count's well chiseled features scowled two inches from Lafayette's nose. "I'm not too shy to play a tattoo on your ill-favored hide, a-horse or afoot!"
"Count Alain!" Adoranne's cool voice was low but it carried a snap of authority. "Mend your manners, sir!"
"My manners!" Alain glared at O'Leary. "This fellow has the manners of a swineherd! And the martial skill as well, I'll wager!"
"Oh, I don't know, Al," O'Leary said casually. "I've done a bit of reading on karate, aikido, judo—"
"These are weapons I know not," Alain grated. "What do you know of the broadsword, the poniard, the mace? Or the quarterstaff, the lance—"
"Crude," Lafayette said. "Very crude. I find the art of fencing a much more gentlemanly sport. I read a dandy book on it just last month. The emphasis on the point rather than the edge, you know. The saber and epée—"
"I'm not unfamiliar with rapier form," Alain said grimly. "In fact, I'd welcome an opportunity to give you lessons."
Lafayette laughed indulgently. "You teach me? Al, old fellow, if you only knew how foolish that sounds. After all, what could you possibly know that I don't, eh?" He chuckled.
"Then, Sir Nobody, perhaps your worship would condescend to undertake my instruction!"
"Alain!" Adoranne started.
"It's all right, Adoranne," O'Leary said. "Might be fun at that. How about tomorrow afternoon?"
"Tomorrow? Ha! And overnight you'd scuttle for safety, I doubt not, and we'd see no more of you and your pretensions! 'Tis not so easy as that, knave. The inner courtyard is moon-bright! Let's repair to our lessons without further chatter!"
Nicodaeus was at Lafayette's side. "Ah, Count Alain," he said smoothly. "May I suggest—"
"You may not!" Alain's eyes found O'Leary's. "I'll await you in the courtyard." He bobbed his head to the princess, turned on his heel and pushed his way through the gaping circle of onlookers who at once streamed away in his wake.
"All this excitement about a fencing lesson," O'Leary said. "These people are real sports fans."
"Sir Lafayette," Adoranne said breathlessly, "you need not heed the count's ill-natured outburst. I'll command that he beg your forgiveness."
"Oh, it's all right. The fresh air will do me good. I'm feeling those cognacs a little, I'm afraid."
"Lafayette, how cool you are in the face of danger. Here." She took a lacy handkerchief from somewhere and pressed it in Lafayette's hand. "Wear this and please, deal generously with him." Then she was gone.
"Adoranne—" O'Leary began. A hand took his arm.
"Lafayette," Nicodaeus said at his ear. "Do you know what you're doing? Alain is the top swordsman in the Guards Regiment."
"I'm just giving him a few tips on saber technique. He—"
"Tips? The man's a master fencer! He'll have his point under your ribs before you can say Sam Katzman!"
"Nonsense. It's all just good clean fun."
"Fun? The man is furious!"
Lafayette looked thoughtful. "Do you really think he's mad?"
"Just this side of frothing at the mouth," Nicodaeus assured him. "He's been number one with Adoranne for some time now—until you came along and cut him out of the pattern."
"Jealous, eh? Poor fellow, if he only knew . . ."
"Only knew what?" Nicodaeus asked sharply.
"Nothing." He slapped Nicodaeus heartily on the back. "Now let's go out and see what he can do."