“Wombat, I presume?” said the Brigadier.

The man was small and had an inconspicuous look to him. In a crowd, the Brigadier thought, you might glance at him and then immediately forget he existed as your attention drifted to the people around him. Only when standing alone, as he was now, did you notice him. He had mousy brown hair and a rather vacant look to his face as if no important thought had ever crossed his mind and none ever would, but when he moved he did so with purpose and without any trace of hesitation or furtiveness, as if he had every right to be where he was and anyone who questioned it would end up looking foolish. It made him the perfect infiltrator and the Brigadier nodded with approval. Private Grey also had an inconspicuous look to him in his civilian clothes. It was the Brigadier who would be the weak link on this mission, he knew. He was the one who stood out, who attracted attention with his noble, aristocratic bearing.

Maybe I should sit this one out, he thought. Let Wombat and Grey make contact with the Princess. Get an update on her situation and receive orders while he remained behind. He dismissed the idea almost immediately. If they needed to extract the Princess, his fighting skills would be needed. They just had to think of a way to get him into the palace without his imperious grace giving them away.

“And you're the Brigadier,” said the spy, coming forward and looking around to make sure they were alone. The rose garden was empty, though, except for a gardener fifty yards away, completely ignoring them as he busily chopped weeds with a small hoe. “Princess Ardria is safe. She is being held in the guest quarters, immediately adjacent to the private rooms of the Royal family itself. There are guards everywhere. The Princess herself has her own guards, though, who do not mingle with the rest of the palace staff.”

The spy spoke with a calm, emotionless voice totally without inflection or any change in tone. It was the kind of voice that might have issued from a machine, if machines could talk. A voice that seemed to slip right through the brain without making any impression upon it. It was a voice that could have announced the end of the world and been immediately forgotten by everyone who heard it.

“Have you had a chance to speak to her?” asked the Brigadier.

“The King allows no-one except her guards to speak to her, not even members of the Royal family. Even the maids and servants who normally clean and carry have been excluded. Nilon has apparently decided to let the dust gather for the duration of the Princess’ stay. Prince George has tried to speak to her many times and the King has refused even him. Nilon is being merciful to the Princess by doing this, I believe. Prince George is perfectly vile.”

“So how do we get to her?” asked Private Grey.

“There is no way to do so without risk. The least risk will be to wait until tonight, when most people will be asleep, and then just walk in as if we are entitled to do so, saying we are on the King’s business.”

“I don't like the idea of waiting,” said the Brigadier, though. “Too much can happen in the meantime. How can we get to see her now?”

“I have survived this long by taking no unnecessary risk...”

“So I have noticed, but the time for caution has passed. We must risk all or lose all. How do we get to see her now?”

The spy code-named Wombat looked deeply unhappy, but then he nodded. “You will be the biggest problem,” he said, looking the Brigadier up and down. “We have to find a way to hide you in plain sight. There may be a way. One of the King’s cousins, Dimitri, has deformed legs, an aberration that arose during his raising from a hunting hound.”

“He's the one whose face is on the ten King note?” said Grey.

The spy nodded. “He cannot walk and has to be transported in a wheelchair. If we sat you in a wheelchair and draped a shawl around your shoulders, your aristocratic bearing would not be so evident. He is smaller then you, which is a problem, but I've observed that people tend not to pay too much attention to cripples. They find them embarrassing. A sad comment on the human condition but one that we can put to good use now.” He looked at Private Grey. “And I can find a footman’s uniform to fit you, I think. That will get us to the eastern end of the south wing, at least. After that, we’ll have to play it by ear.”

“Good,” said the Brigadier, nodding. “Lead on.”

“What’s your name, anyway?” asked Grey as they walked. “And what do you do in the palace?”

The small man stared at him in horror, but then shrugged. “You can already identify me, so what the hell. My name is Lucius Tweed and I'm the Underbutler, Gregory Hill’s deputy. That's useful, because if we meet a member of staff I can say that I'm on an errand for him.”

“And if we meet Hill himself?” asked Grey.

“They I'll say I'm on an errand for a member of the Royal Family.”

There was a Radiant floating above the palace, they saw, and they were acutely aware that it must have been able to see them as they followed the path towards the palace. Hopefully, it had no reason to pay special attention to them. Tweed took them to a spot where there was a wooden bench with its back to a large hedge. The hedge hid them from the Radiant’s sight and Tweed left them there while he went the rest of the way alone. Half an hour later he returned and led them to a side entrance to the palace where he'd left a wheelchair on which clothes were piled. “Get changed quickly!” he said as the two Helberians began undressing. “There's something going on in there.”

“What?” asked the Brigadier.

“I don't know, but everyone seems very excited about something. Something to do with the war, and the Princess.” The two Helberians exchanged glances and started changing clothes faster.

The Brigadier then sat in the wheelchair and Tweed draped a shawl over him to hide his toned, muscular frame. “You look far too big!” he said. “Hunch down a little!” The Brigadier did so, and let his head droop down towards his chest. To Grey, he suddenly looked much older and smaller. He looked frail and the corners of his mouth drooped down as if he'd suffered a mild stroke at some time. “Astonishing!” he said. “You’re a born actor, Brigadier!”

Tweed also looked impressed. “Maybe we’ve got a chance after all,” he said. “Grey, you push the chair, and remember. You're very junior in the household. Even the maids are higher than you. Act subservient to everyone, even the lowliest servant.” Grey nodded, and Tweed gestured for them to move.

“We'll go again tomorrow if you like,” he said for the benefit of the guard on duty at the door. “Would you like that, Your Lordship?”

“Too cold outside,” said the Brigadier, though, in a weak trembly voice. “Take me back to my rooms.”

“It is a bit chilly,” agreed Tweed. “Perhaps it'll be warmer tomorrow. We can go see the maze. Would you like that?”

“No,” replied the Brigadier. “Take me back to my room and get me a bottle of Taga.”

“Taga? Perhaps some kelnish wine, Your Lordship.”

“I said Taga you idiot! Kelnish wine is for animals!”

The guard barely glanced at them as Grey wrestled the chair across the threshold, and he dismissed them from his attention entirely as they proceeded along the corridor. “So far, so good,” said Tweed. “Good bit of improvisation, but the way.”

“Pay attention!” said the Brigadier, though. “People ahead!”

They carried on their improvised conversation as they proceeded along the corridor, and everyone they passed dismissed them with a single glance until they reached the stairway up to the first floor, which alone had a connecting corridor to the guest quarters. The Brigadier had to get out of the wheelchair and limp up the stairs one step at a time, wheezing and grumbling and with Tweed supporting one arm, while Grey carried the wheelchair up. At the top he got back in the wheelchair, Tweed draped the shawl around him again and they prepared to move off, but then a maid emerged from one of the side rooms. She stared in surprise at the Brigadier. “I thought Lord Komarov was in the library!” she said. “I saw him there just a...”

The Brigadier quickly looked around to make sure there was no-one else in sight. Then he leapt from the chair towards the maid, who had time for a single gasping intake of breath before the Brigadier’s hand clamped down hard over her mouth. He pushed her roughly back into the room she was just leaving, which was empty, he was relieved to see. That had been a bit of a gamble. He threw her to the ground and tore her uniform to strips, using it to tie her up, while Grey shoved more cloth into her mouth as a gag and tied it in place with her belt. “Is this room used much?” he asked Tweed, who had just stared in astonishment while the others bound the maid. He shook his head wildly. He swallowed a couple of times, staring at the maid who could barely move, so tight were the strips of cloth biting into her bare arms and legs. “I'm not even sure what this room is,” he said at last. “I don't think I've ever been in here!”

The Brigadier picked up the whimpering maid and carried her through into the next room, which seemed to be a storeroom of some kind, full of dusty cabinets. He placed her gently on the floor and left, closing the door behind him. “It might be days before she's found!” protested Tweed as they went back out into the corridor.

“Can't be helped,” said the Brigadier, not without sympathy as he got back into the wheelchair. “How long does Lord Komarov tend to stay in the library?”

“All day, once he gets his nose in a book. No need go worry about bumping into him in the corridor.”

“Good. I'd hate to have to tie up a cripple. Let's go.” Tweed nodded, nervously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The Brigadier stared at him on concern, and the spy took a couple of deep breaths, making a great effort to appear relaxed in case his distressed state attracted attention. Then, when he was ready, he resumed leading the way along the corridor, Grey pushing the Brigadier along behind him. “So, we're committed now,” he said. “The moment someone finds her, they'll know there're intruders in the palace. We have to get the Princess out now, or not at all.” The Brigadier nodded but said nothing.

They passed more people as they went, but weren't challenged. They were barely noticed! “This is incredible!” said Grey quietly as they passed through a stretch of empty corridor. “The Brigadier looks nothing like Lord Komarov! He doesn’t even have a beard!”

“All they see is a man in a wheelchair,” said Tweed, equally quietly. “And as a doorman, you are beneath notice!”

“It still stretches credulity,” said the Brigadier. “If two men were able to get into Paisley Palace this easily, Leothan would have every guard's head on a spike!”

“Maybe the Carrowmen are just too cowed and timid to try a stunt like this,” suggested Grey. “And as a result, security has become lax.”

“It's still the King's palace in time of war,” pointed out the Brigadier. “King Nilon’s security is inexcusably lax!”

“There's just nothing in this part of the palace that he cares about that much,” said Tweed. “The residential wing is different. I’ve been giving it some thought and I still have no idea how we're going to get in there.”

“Those Above will provide,” said the Brigadier confidently. “Where are Lord Komarov's rooms compared to the rooms in which the Princess is being held?”

“Nowhere near, I'm afraid. The Princess is being held in the Lavender Suite, the one used to hold imprisoned dignitaries. It has no external doors. To get out, you have to go around the kelnish courtyard and along the Portrait Passage. There are bound to be guards everywhere, all of whom will refuse to allow Lord Komarov to pass, even if we can convince them that that’s who you are.”

“If we can’t get past them, we’ll have to go through them,” said the Brigadier.

Tweed laughed nervously. “Just the two of you? You're going to storm a palace with two men?”

“In case you hadn't noticed, there are three of us,” said the Brigadier. “I assume you can handle a sword and a pistol?”

“In case you hadn't noticed, I'm an Underbutler, not a soldier.”

“You are whatever the King requires you to be. We’ll get weapons for you.”

“I've had no training!”

“The sharp end goes in the other guy,” said Grey with a grin. Tweed just stared at him in horror. The Brigadier stared at him for a moment, appraising how much use he'd be when the fighting broke out. At the very least, he'll draw some of the fire from us, he thought. Maybe that'll be enough. “Let's go,” he said. Grey pushed the wheelchair onwards, grinning cheerfully at the Underbutler, who wiped his mouth nervously again before hurrying after them.

They passed along corridors, around corners and past other members of staff, all of whom paid them almost no attention until a woman in the uniform of a senior housekeeper paused and stared at the Brigadier. The Brigadier, knowing that she'd seen through the deception, leapt out of the wheelchair towards her. His hands went for her throat. No choice but to kill her quickly and quietly, he thought, and pray to all the old Gods that nobody hears the disturbance.

“It's me!” said the woman, though, throwing off her headband. Grey hair fell around her head. “Don't kill me!”

The Brigadier stared in surprise. “Soonia Darniss,” he said. “Traitor, under sentence of death...”

“I can help you! I came here to try to free the Princess! I can help get you in there!”

“Brigadier?” said Grey quizzically. “You know this woman?”

“This is the woman who tried to kill the Princess. Turn her into a demon.”

“Things have changed!” said Darniss desperately. She still had her dagger, but she knew just how useless it would be against this man. If he decided to kill her, she would die and there was nothing she could do to stop him. “Nilon tried to kill me. I have no future here any more. My only hope is to help Helberion win the war. I know you have no reason to trust me, but you can trust my desire for self preservation. I will do whatever I have to do to survive, and right now that means helping you to save the Princess.”

The Brigadier stared at her thoughtfully. “You can get us to the Princess, past the guards?” he said.

“Past most of them. I’ve been here before, once. I had to leave Paisley Palace for two weeks to attend my sick sister. I never had a sister, I’d been summoned here, to be briefed by Lord Krell. I took the opportunity to get to know the place a bit, just in case I ever needed the information.”

The Brigadier nodded. He suspected that such behaviour came as easily to her as breathing. “So, which way do we go?” he asked.

“Wait,” said Grey. “You trust this woman? How do you know she won't lead us into a trap?”

“There are palace staff not too far away. If she wanted us captured or dead, all she’d have to do is shout. There's no need for elaborate schemes or traps. I think she’s telling the truth.” Darniss nodded vigorously.

“So,” said the Brigadier to Darniss again. “Which way?”

“There's a linen cupboard just down the corridor from here. It has a secret door leading into the next room, a storage room full of tables and chairs for the Venus banqueting suite. I ‘persuaded’ a maid to tell me about it, and then I killed her.” They knew what kind of woman she was. There seemed little point trying to deny it now.

The Brigadier turned to Tweed. “Do you know about this secret door?” he asked.

“No. I've spent my time here trying to learn political secrets, not secret passages.”

The Brigadier turned back to Darniss. “This secret door takes us past the guards?” he asked.

“Past most of them. The ones guarding the way from the main body of the palace, but there are sure to be more guards further on. There’ll be no avoiding them.”

“I never expected there would be. Very well, lead on.”

The door was right where she'd said it would be, hidden behind a cupboard full of sheets and blankets. They pulled it aside and the Brigadier listened at the door. “Sounds quiet on the other side,” he said. He turned the handle and opened the door a crack.

There was only darkness on the other side, so he opened it the rest of the way. A pile of stacked tables blocked their way, but Grey and the Brigadier pushed them out of the way until they could squeeze past. The room had two other doors, one of which, they presumed, led to the banqueting suite, but Darniss led them to the other door. Once again the Brigadier opened it a crack, and when they were sure the way was clear on the other side they went through.

Tweed led them the rest of the way, and a few moments later they came to a door guarded by a serious looking man armed with a sword and a pistol. “This is it,” said Tweed as they came to a halt. “No-one goes further than this without authorisation from the King.”

Grey moved the wheelchair in front of one of the portraits that lined the corridor. Some ancestor of the King, they supposed, and they pretended to study it while glancing at the guard out of the corners of their eyes. “He's an adoptee,” said the Brigadier, who had immediately noticed the layer of powder on his face and hands. “He's probably in continuous telepathic contact with other adoptees. Maybe with the Radiant as well. The moment we take him out, the alarm will go up. Everyone beyond this point will be waiting for us.”

“Unless we take him out so quickly that he doesn't have time to send a warning,” suggested Grey. “A shot to the head. Instantly fatal.”

“The others will still notice that he’s dropped out of communication.”

“Yes, but they won’t know why. They might waste a moment or two wondering about it, and that'll give us time to take out the next guard. Maybe even the one after that.”

“How many adoptees are there in the palace?” the Brigadier asked Tweed.

“I've only seen a couple. A guard, not that one, another guard, and a maid. There may be others.”

“All this time you've been in the palace and that’s the best you can tell us?”

“I had to be careful! I couldn’t take risks!”

The Brigadier turned away to prevent him from seeing the contempt on his face. Twenty years he’s been here, he thought, and so far a woman who spent a few days here several years ago has been of more use to us. He didn't say this, though. He needed the man on his side for the fighting ahead. He sighed. “All right, we’ll just have to take it as it goes.” He reached a hand down to where his pistol was hidden, inside his jacket, and took it by the hand grip. “Move me closer,” he said. “The moment I kill him, you, Tweed, take his weapons. Then we go through that door and we kill anyone who isn't the Princess. We just search around until we find her. Understood?”

Tweed still had a fearful look in his eye but he nodded. “Then there's just the small matter of getting out of the palace again, with fifty palace guards on our tail.”

“Hopefully, we can stay ahead of them long enough to make it to the city, where we can lose ourselves. This is the one chance we get. Sooner or later someone's going to find that maid we left tied up.” He rather hoped it was sooner. The guilt of what he’d done to an innocent woman, the memory of pulling the strips of cloth tight around her wrists, still ate at him. She'll be okay, he told himself. Someone will find her soon, and she’ll have an exciting story to tell.

“Okay, let’s do it.” He looked at the guard out of the corner of his eye, noting his exact position, the movements he would have to make to pull the gun from the tangle of clothing within which it was hidden. If it snagged on anything and spoiled his aim, that would be bad. Very bad. He rehearsed the action in his mind, making sure he'd gotten it right, and then, before anything could happen to spoil the moment, he drew and fired.

A small red hole appeared in the middle of the man's forehead, and the wall behind him was splashed with red. “Go!” He yelled as the man fell, leaping from the wheelchair and throwing the door open. There was a female scream from somewhere behind him. He ignored it and ran through the door, searching for enemies. They found themselves in a wide, empty passageway with large, landscape paintings on the walls and small chairs on which people could sit to admire them. There was another guard standing beside the door at the other end. He shot him as well, then ran, Grey just a pace behind him. There was a door on the left hand side, but he didn't bother checking it. He just ran and threw open the far door the moment he reached it.

Some instinct made him duck his head as he ran through, and it saved his life as two bullets tore holes in the wood panelling where his head would have been. He brought his gun up, his finger already tightening on the trigger before he saw where his opponent was shooting from. An open doorway in the side of another wide passage, ten yards away. He aimed while the hammer was already falling on the bullet and a third guard was thrown back as five grams of lead tore through his shoulder, while another bullet from Grey's gun tore through the wooden doorframe behind him. The Brigadier kept running, and as he passed the injured guard he shot another bullet through his head.

On the other side of the door was a narrow corridor running at right angles to them, on the other side of which was a large, open courtyard that they could see through windows in the wall. In the courtyard were small flower beds, a fish pond, park benches and, hanging from the open sky, the dangling tentacles of a Radiant. The creature was dropping, they saw. Bringing its body down into the courtyard so that it would be able to see them with the eyes that ringed its body. The Brigadier ignored it and turned left, into the narrow corridor.

The corridor completely circled the courtyard. It had doors in its left hand side, each of which, the Brigadier guessed, led into a suite of guest rooms, one of which would contain the Princess. Hopefully, she would have heard the gunshots and would know that rescue was coming...

“Brigadier!” came a distant, familiar voice. The Brigadier searched around and saw her in a doorway on the other side of the courtyard. He ran towards her and she ran towards him, but there was another woman just behind her, dressed as a maid, and another guard, standing where the corridor turned a corner, who was pulling a gun from its holster. From his position he had a clear shot at the Princess, a dozen yards from him. He aimed his gun at her...

“If you kill her, I'll kill you!” roared the Brigadier, still running. The guard stared at him, still aiming at the Princess. The Brigadier aimed his gun at him, but there was no way the bullet would travel in a straight line as it passed through two windows, one as it entered the courtyard to pass across it, the other as it left, and when he reached the corner he would lose the shot altogether. He continued to run nevertheless. There was nothing else he could do.

The Princess skidded to a halt and the maid caught up to her, grabbing her by the arm. The Princess tried to shake her off but then stopped, a look of peaceful acceptance on her face. The Brigadier had to look away as he reached the corner, and then the glare reflected from the glass blocked his view of the scene. He bounced off the wall as he took the corner, to save himself from losing speed, and ran even faster, a sense of despair coming over him. He knew what that look of peaceful acceptance meant. The maid was also as adoptee, and she had parent bonded the Princess. She might be cursing the Princess back to her animal form even now!

He heard two gunshots behind him. Either Grey or Tweed, trying to shoot the maid, but the glass would deflect the bullets. They might hit the Princess instead! Perhaps the first shot had just been to break the glass, he thought, after which whoever it was would have a clear shot. He heard a scream from behind him, and more rapid gunshots. He risked a sideways glance and saw the Radiant reaching through the windows with its luminous tentacles to twine around Private Grey. He dropped the gun as he was pulled through the window and drew his sword, but before he could use it another tentacle wrapped around his arm. There was a spray of blood as his arm was pulled from its socket, and then it threw him up and out of the courtyard to land on the roof somewhere.

There was no time to grieve, so the Brigadier just kept running towards the next corner, his gun in his hand. The guard's head and gun arm came into view and the Brigadier threw himself to the ground just as bullets flew over his head. He fired back, to make the guard pull back and give himself time to scramble back to his feet. He was out in the open, while his enemy had cover. His only chance was to close the distance as quickly as possible. Reach the corner and level the playing field.

The guard fired again, lower this time, and more gunshots rang out from where Grey had been. Tweed! he thought with new hope. The man had summoned up the nerve to take part in the fight, but what was he shooting at? The guard, the maid or the Radiant? Whatever was of the most direct threat to himself, he guessed, which would be the Radiant, but he had to know that bullets were useless against it with so much fresh air blowing around from the courtyard. The guard would be in a panic, though, not knowing if it was he who was coming under fire, and he would hesitate, look around trying to see where his other enemy was. That would give the Brigadier a chance, if he was fast enough. He ran, therefore, all thought of evasion forgotten. If the guard looked around the corner again and fired another shot at him, he was dead.

Tweed fired more shots, then screamed, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. The Brigadier feared the worst, that he was alone now, with no-one left to back him up, and the corner of the corridor was still far away. He shot at the windows to break them, hoping it would give him a glimpse of his enemy, but he wasn't aiming properly and the wrong windows broke. He was given a sight of the Radiant instead, Tweed’s upper body in its tentacles, his eyes open and staring at him accusingly. Its main body dropped below the level of the ceiling and a row of primitive eyes fixed on him. Even without telepathy the Brigadier sensed its anger, its fury. It was going to come for him now, and he had no way to stop it!

He put it out of his mind, therefore. Fright the battles you can win, he thought. He was still running, and suddenly he was at the corner. The guard was just coming back to take another shot at him. The Brigadier shot him in the face, then looked down the corridor at the maid and the Princess.

The maid had pushed the Princess’s sleeve up and was holding her pale, slender arm in both hands. The Princess had a dreamy expression on her face but still looked fully human. As she saw him coming for her, though, the Brigadier saw a look of determination come over her face, the look of a decision being made. She was beginning the curse!

She was using the Princess’s body as a shield, the Brigadier could only see her arms and the top of her head, almost hidden behind the Princess’ long, golden hair. The Brigadier raised his gun to fire anyway, but then the maid’s head exploded in a shower of blood. She fell, and the Princess, still held firmly in her grasp, fell as well, landing on top of her. The dreamy look vanished from her face, though, as she became fully aware and alert once more. Behind her, Darniss, who had circled the courtyard in the other direction, lowered her gun. Either Tweed’s gun or Grey’s.

Then glass shattered as the Radiant reached through with its long, luminous tentacles. The Brigadier dropped his gun and drew his sword instead, slicing through the tentacle even as it began to twine around the Princess’ leg. It fell to the ground where it writhed like an agonized earthworm.

The Brigadier reached down, grabbed her arm and pulled her back to her feet, then shoved her through the nearest door just as more tentacles reached in through the broken window. He began closing the door, but Darniss squeezed through after him, glaring at him accusingly. The Brigadier let her through, then slammed the door closed behind them. The tentacles of the Radiant were more than dextrous enough to turn the doorknobs and it was strong enough to throw the door open against the Brigadier’s full weight, throwing him to the deeply carpeted floor. The creature’s hideous piping filled the air as he scrambled away from it on his feet and elbows, and the Princess grabbed his arm to help pull him away. “Get back!” he shouted. “Save yourself!”

Instead, the Princess snatched up the sword that had fallen from his hand and used it to slash at the tentacles. Several were severed, but the stumps, gushing green ichor, continued to reach for the two of them. Some of the creature's blood splashed over her face and she gave a little yelp as it stung her eyes, but by then the Brigadier was back on his feet and pulling her away from the doorway. Darniss shot at the tentacles until the gun was empty, then threw it at the creature. Ardria stared at her, noticing her for the first time, but there was no time for conversation.

More tentacles reached in, but the suite of rooms was huge and they couldn’t reach them as Darniss and the two Helberians huddled against the far wall. The creatures main body squeezed up against the door, but was far too big to squeeze through, and the castle was made of solid stone. There was no way it would be able to tear the walls down. They were safe, for the moment.

“We killed three guards and the maid,” said the Brigadier. “How many more adoptees are there? Maybe I got them all. The creature has no-one left to communicate with...”

“The King’s an adoptee!” gasped the Princess, still wiping green gore from her face. She blinked a couple of times as she got her vision back. “He'll be calling the guard out. Every guard in the palace and in the city beyond! It's over! There's nowhere left to go!”