“It was a trap after all,” Alric said. He turned to Royce. “My apologies for doubting your sound paranoia.”
“Even I didn’t expect this. Perhaps there’s another way out.” Royce took a seat on one of the observation benches and assumed the same contemplative look he had worn when he was trying to determine how to get inside the prison.
Everyone remained silent for some time. Finally, Hadrian approached Royce and whispered, “Okay, buddy, this is where you tell me you have this wonderfully unexpected plan to get us out of here.”
“Well, I do have one, but it seems almost as frightening as the alternative.”
“What’s that?”
“We do what the wizard says.”
They looked down at the man casually seated in the chair. His robe looked a slightly different shade of blue now. Hadrian waved the others over and explained Royce’s plan.
“Could this be a trick?” Alric asked quietly. “The clerk did warn us not to do anything he said.”
“You mean the nice clerk who took away our bridge and refuses to let us out?” Royce replied. “I’m not seeing an alternative, but if any of you have another idea, I’m willing to hear it.”
“I’d just like to feel my heart again,” Myron said, holding his palm to his chest and looking sick. “This is very disturbing. I almost feel like I’m actually dead.”
“Your Majesty?”
Alric looked up at the thief with a scowl. “I just want to say for the record that as far as royal protectors go, you’re not very good.”
“It’s my first day,” Royce replied dryly.
“And already I’m trapped in a timeless prison. I shudder to think what might have happened if you had a whole week.”
“Listen, I don’t see we have a choice here,” Royce told the group. “We either do what the wizard says and hope he can get us out, or we accept an eternity of sitting here listening to this dreadful singing.”
The mournful wail of the music was so wretched that Hadrian knew listening to it would eventually drive him mad. He tried to ignore it, but as it did for Myron, it brought him unpleasant memories of places and people. Hadrian saw the disappointment on his father’s face when he had left to join the military. He saw the tiger covered in blood, gasping for breath as it slowly died, and he heard the sound of hundreds chanting the name: “Galenti!” He had reached his conclusion. Anything was better than staying there.
Royce stood and returned to the balcony, below which the wizard waited calmly. “I assume if we help you escape, you’ll see to it we get out as well?”
“Indeed.”
“And there is no way to determine if you are telling the truth right now?”
The wizard smiled. “Alas, nay.”
Royce sighed heavily. “What do we have to do?”
“Precious little. Thy prince, this wayward and recent king, need but recite a bit of poetry.”
“Poetry?” Alric pushed past Hadrian to join Royce at the balcony. “What poetry?”
The wizard stood up and kicked his chair to one side to reveal four stanzas of text crudely scratched into the floor.
“ ’Tis amazing what beauty time may grant,” the wizard said with obvious pride. “Speak, and it wilt be so.”
Hadrian silently read the lines brightly illuminated by the beam of the overhead light.
AS LORD OF THIS REALM AND KEEPER OF KEYS, A DECREE WAS MADE AND COUNCILMAN SEIZED.
UNJUSTLY, I SAY, AND THE TIME ’TIS NIGH TO OPEN THE GATE AND LET HIS SOUL FLY.
BY VIRTUE OF GIFT GRANTED TO ME, BY RIGHTFUL BIRTH, THE SOVEREIGN I BE.
HEREBY I PROCLAIM THIS ROYAL DECREE, ESRAHADDON THE WIZARD, THIS MOMENT IS FREE.
“How is that possible?” Alric asked. “You said spells don’t work here.”
“Indeed, and thou art no spell-caster. Thou art but granting freedom as the law allows the rightful ruler of this land—laws of control laid down before the birth of Melengar, laws built on assumptions false concerning the longevity of power and who might, in due course of time, wield it—at this moment, in this place, ’tis thee. Thou art the rightful and undisputed ruler of this land, and as such, the locks art thine to open. For here latch and bolt be forged with words of enchantment—words that in time hath changed their meaning.