In the large space underneath, at the very center, there was a raised stone platform, on which a throne literally glittered, as did the robe of its occupant. A ring of the same glittering gems that had outlined the path, marked an open space about and before the platform.

The back of the throne rose in an arched curve above the head of that occupant; and halfway down it sprouted ends that curved forward, flattened, and became ornately carved armrests, differently shaped at their forward ends, one like a pick, one like a hammer. The entire throne appeared to be of one piece, part of the living stone of the wall behind, but such was the effect of the bright jewels around it and the subdued light of the cave, that it seemed to float at head-height of those standing before it.

Jim looked more closely. By heaven, it was floating!

He forced his gaze from the throne to the one sitting in it. There, clad in a floor-length, glittering robe, was a Natural just like Hill, but half a head taller and proportionately bigger.

As he looked more closely, Jim saw that the face of the enthroned individual, while very like Hill's in its heavy-boned, primitive appearance, was unpleasantly different in expression. Its eyes also stared at Jim and his friends, but with nothing of the innocence Jim had thought he had seen in Hill and those behind him. Then, abruptly, even that changed. The stare focused on Hill; and the Natural's face became almost human with a smile that did ugly things to the formerly emotionless face.

"Well, Nevvy—" Jim heard him begin.

"Well, Uncle!" Hill interrupted sharply. "Here I be again!"

Jim looked quickly; and Hill's face had also changed. It, too, had taken on personality such as Hill had not shown before in Jim's experience of him. His was a young face still, but now the vacantly open mouth was closed, the lower jaw set. He, too, looked more human now—but in his case, it was for the better.

"Why, so I see, Nevvy, as I was about to tell 'ee. 'Ee dug thyself out, did 'ee? I never looked to see 'ee back here for another hundred year."

" Twas help I had," said Hill, "from a friend."

"A friend? Oh, thee has friends up-surface now, do 'ee? What friend of 'ee's could dig 'ee faster from under a mountain than eeself?"

" 'Ee was called a Sea Devil," retorted Hill. "Ye never saw the like. 'Ee was as tall as eight o' ourn, piled head to foot, and 'ee could crush 'ye in one hand like a piece o' sandstone, so 'ee could."

Uncle's grin suddenly broadened, although nothing else about him changed—giving him a mad look.

"No living creetur can crush the Gnarly King, the King o' th' Hill, of Overhill, Underhill and all the other Underearth! 'Ee should know that, being a Kings-son, Nevvy!"

"Thee be no True King, Uncle!" cried Hill.

"I be True King!" roared his uncle, half-rising from his chair. But he checked, and sank back onto the Throne. "… Or else thee just be stoopid. Thee was always stoopid. But I think, now thee's lying to me, as well. If thee's not, why bring here these Up-Earth Stoopids and beasts wi' thee, if not to back up thy story?"

Hill flung out one of his covered aims to point at Jim.

Thee stole away his cheild!" he said. " 'Ee knows t'was thee did it."

"And if I did, what's that to me or thee, Nevvy?"

" 'Ee's my Luck!" cried Hill.

"Luck?" For a moment the King looked disturbed. But then he rocked with silent laughter. "Now I know thee's not only a liar but stoopid, Nevvy. A Stoopid from up-surface to be a Luck for a Gnarly?"

"My Luck beed the Sea Devil, who dug me out this fast," answered Hill. "Ask 'eeself, how could I be here so soon, otherhow? But the Sea Devil couldn't come to Overhill with me. So 'ee passed his Luck to thisun; and thisun's no simple Stoopid, neither. 'Ee's a Mage, 'ee is, full with magick. 'Ee was coming here for 'is cheild, anyhow!"

"Wants t'see it, does 'ee?" said the King. " 'Ee's magick don't be any good here. Here, it's I got the Robe and the Throne. So—"

He waved his hand toward a corner of the space in which his throne of flashing silver was centered; and suddenly, a few feet to the side, Robert Falon appeared, lying on a block of stone, his legs and arms waving. He was crying harder than Jim had ever seen him cry—but utterly without a sound. The fact that his crying was going unheard registered clearly in Jim's mind—and a moment later, he walked with considerable force into what felt like a wall of stone. With the impact came realization: the King had set up a ward about Robert.

The sudden understanding was like a door slammed in his face, just as he had tried to go through it.

"Look at 'ee standing there!" the King's voice rang behind him. "So stoopid 'ee thought I'd just let 'ee go take ee's cheild! 'Ayl Stoopid! Yon cheild's not 'ee's no more! I'll be given 'ee to a Stoopid Lady!"

The King laughed, like two blocks of stone grinding against each other.

"Look at 'ee!" he chortled, turning to Hill. "Fair mazed 'ee is! No wonder, neither. Five o' ourn I sent to steal the cheild; and 'ee all came back shaking after trying to dig out of rock into 'ee's cave—not so far from Stoopids 'eeselves—and there smelling Stoopids all around, crazy to kill poor Gnarlies. Twas 'un tried to steal the baybee from open surface in broad day's light and the cheild's watch-Stoopid sleeping under Sun beside the wee 'un, but came back 'feered of a wolf! Twas then I had to go meself!"

Jim, staring at Robert, had hardly heard any of this long speech. But abruptly, what the King had said just before that reechoed in his head.

"You said you'd give Robert to a Stoopid Lady!" he said to the King. "What Lady? A Lady named Agatha Falon?" His voice came out hard.

The King said nothing; but Jim now found himself being pushed backward by some invisible force, away from Robert. The King kept his attention on Hill, ignoring Jim.

Jim turned. He walked unsteadily back to stand beside Brian. This Gnarly King, he found himself thinking, was someone he could kill with an easy conscience.

"Were you struck by some magick, James?" Brian's voice whispered in his ear. He put an arm around Jim, who was literally unsteady on his feet.

Jim shook his head, as much to clear it as to answer Brian's question. With an effort, he put his fury from him, and found steadiness. Magic had nothing to do with his sudden weakness, but to explain emotional shock to Brian was impractical.

"No, Brian," he said, and his own voice sounded strange to him, unreasonably hollow. "I'm all right. What's going on?"—For Hill's voice and the King's were clashing again.

"They are now in fierce discussion," said Brian, in a voice that sounded more normal. "He who calls himself the Gnarly King is taunting young Hill. I had no great love for the little fellow, but—by Our Lady! I would aid him in this moment, if I knew how."

"You, too?" said Jim. "How long have you been hearing their talk?"

"Why, since they started to speak out, a moment past," answered Brian, releasing him. "I knew you could hear these creatures speak—magick, of course—but to me they were dumb as stones. Now, however, it appears these two, at least, can utter some words if they will. Enough, at least, to make plain that the King of these people, there, is about to send Hill back beneath some mountain, and wishes to see him beg for mercy. Yet Hill has been standing up to him, almost as well as a man might. Only hark, James. You can hear them yourself."

"But how could you—"Jim began, then interrupted himself. "They're speaking in the normal human range now. Wait a minute—no, they're not. I wonder… Brian, listen to me for a moment—"

Jim edged forward, moving inside the ring of gems that outlined the space on the floor. The King had turned to face Hill, and Hill was concentrating only on the monarch. Jim spoke to Brian.

"Gladiator Hill, amor Fortunae."

"Indeed, James, I am entirely of your opinion. But why did you walk away like that to say so?"

Jim stepped back toward him out of the ring and repeated the Latin words.

"What?" said Brian.

"Sorry," said Jim, in his own form of English, which for some unknown reason fourteenth-century individuals seemed to find perfectly understandable. "Frog in my throat. I said that Hill was a fighter and Fortune loves him."

That is what you also said, a moment gone," replied Brian. "Good fortune is never to be despised, of course, in any bicker. I agree. Still, they do seem to insist on a lot of talk before they get to blows, down here. Almost makes one doubt their willingness to do so. Never do to act like that in dispute with an Englishman."

There was nothing Jim could think of to say to that.

"Besides," Brian went on, "how else should they speak? True, they have a common, country way of talking, but it is clear enough."

And indeed, it was.

"—I say it again," Hill was almost shouting in a tenor voice. The faces of both of them were now showing emotions Jim would never have thought possible to them.

"Killed thy father?" retorted the King. "Never I did! The old pooker just keeled over."

"That be'en't true!"

"Na, na, watch thy words!" said the King.

"Weil, don't thee call my father a poker!" cried the Prince. "If any Gnarly here's a pooker, it's thee!"

"Oh, thee's be now like a fine little Stoopid Knight with manners, be'en't 'ee? Besides, 'ee was a pooker. I was 'ee's next youngest brother, and I should know!"

"Stop that! 'Ee shouldn't never talk that way of anyone who's gone Overhill-Underhill—and 'ee thy full-blood brother!"

"Thee be'en't here when it happened, remember," retorted the King. "It were me, not thee, saw 'im fall. 'Ee just beed a weak old pooker and 'ee died."

"I be 'is closer kin. I be 'is son!" cried the Prince. "I'll scatter 'ee for saying that!"

The King laughed.

" 'Ee and 'oo to help 'ee?" he said. "Be'en't no other kin left to 'elp 'ee now. Them as stands behind 'ee at this moment won't lift a pick or rod to help 'ee—even if it would do good against my King's Power of Magick. What makes thee think thee could even touch me?"

"I've my Luck!" said Hill.

The King sneered.

"A Stoopid's no Luck to you!"

"Don't thee ever say that!" cried Hill. " 'Ee's Lucky. "Ee couldn't be luckier. Thee knows that! What of all the baybees stole down the centuries? Twas because they were lucky to have. And this'n's a Magickian. That makes him twice as Lucky!"

"Magickian!" snorted the King. "I've a prime Magickian 'ere already—and look at 'ee!"

As suddenly as Robert had appeared, Carolinus appeared on the other side of the dais. Carolinus in a cage, holding to the front bars as if they were all that kept him on his feet. His face was ravaged with exhaustion, but he opened his mouth and his cracked voice rang out, not in Jim's head but plainly in his ears.

"Depart!" he cried. "Jim, DEPART!"

And Jim did.

With Carolinus' voice still sounding in his ears, he found himself in a large auditorium filled with men and women, many in red magician robes—more so-dressed than he had ever seen together before. On the stage on which Jim had appeared, a woman was standing, addressing the audience.

She was a woman he had seen once before, one of the only three AAA+ Magicians there were in this world; and she had been the referee—or whatever magicians called it—at the time of Carolinus' duel with a B-class magician named Son Won Phon, over the latter's accusation that Jim had been using Oriental Magic without having been properly instructed by an expert in that area.

The woman was of indeterminate age, by appearance perhaps in her thirties or forties; tall, but thin and somewhat cadaverous-looking. Her face was bony and long, and her expression stern. When Jim had seen her before, she had been wearing a dark green robe and a sort of skullcap of the same color; now she wore the magician's red. Her clothes were clean, but were obviously well-worn. Jim's mind scrambled to remember how to pronounce her name.

Whatever she had been saying to the audience, it had been interrupted by Jim's appearance. She, like everybody in the seats, now turned to look at him. For a moment there was a dead silence, and then murmurs swept through the audience… "Dragon Knight…", "… No, no more than a class C + , I assure you!" "Tremendous extra Drawing Accounts. They say… (mumble, mumble)… Carolinus, but…"

"How did you get here, Jim?" demanded the tall woman. At the sound of her voice, those from the audience ceased.

"I think Carolinus sent me," said Jim. "—In a way. Or maybe he just took advantage of something that was carved over the entrance, something about 'WHO ENTERS DEPARTS. WHO DEPARTS RETURNS.' "

"Hah!" she said, as fiercely as Jim had ever heard Brian say it. "That's our Carolinus—taking advantage of their own Natural, Gnarly Magick!"

There was a sudden storm of questions shouted at Jim from the audience. The woman turned to face them, held up her hand, and all voices except hers fell silent.

"Now, Jim," she said, turning back to him and speaking only slightly less severely than she had just looked at the audience, "how was it you were there where Carolinus could take advantage of this particular Gnarly command?"

"Well, you see, Mage Kinety—" he began.

"KinetetE," she scowled.

"I'm sorry." Jim tried to follow her pronunciation of her own name with that final emphatic E. "Kinetet… yah?" Jim's attempt to duplicate the sound was a total failure.

"No," she said. "Kin-eh-tet-E. Accent on the final E. Never mind. Pronounce it any way you want—but answer my question."

"Well," said Jim. He suddenly felt six years old again, facing a towering first-grade teacher—and, in fact, KinetetE was a good three inches taller than he was. In just a few sentences he outlined the events that had followed the kidnapping of young Robert. KinetetE interrupted him when he came to the part about Hill.

"What was he?" she snapped.

"A Gnarly—a Gnarly prince, I guess, but we didn't know that at first." He outlined the rest of their trip up to the confrontation with Hill's uncle. "Anyway," he concluded, "just about then, the King made Carolinus appear. Carolinus commanded 'DEPART—and here I am."

Jim stopped and tried to catch his breath. The whole story had come out almost in one sentence.

"Hah!" said KinetetE again, thoughtfully this time, but still somewhat fiercely. "But you say you did see Carolinus. How was he?"

"The King had him in a cage, and he looked in bad shape. He could barely stand up."

Something like a moan came from the audience, with an undernote that was very like a growl of rage.

"Were you aware," snapped KinetetE, "that Carolinus had gone to whoever was King down there with special permission from our worldwide Collegiate of Magickians and full Ambassadorial Credentials, to look into a threat to unbalance the Kingdoms?"

"No, I wasn't," said Jim. "I saw and talked to him a short time before our journey—but even then he was a projection, rather than with us in person. He appeared once more, just before we went into Lyonesse; and he was a projection then, too—I think a message he deliberately left for us if we showed up; to be triggered into sight and sound by the fact we were there. But he only warned us then that Lyonesse was a land of magic, and dangerous for us."

"Well, now we know," said KinetetE. "The Gnarly King apparently thinks he can do what he wants with a AAA+ Mage. We'll have to teach him differently!" The audience snarled its approval—very unmagician-like in sound.

"But Hill's uncle has the only magic that's allowed in that Kingdom, isn't that so?" said Jim.

"He has it, but doesn't own it!" said KinetetE sharply. "He simply controls it as long as he rightfully wears that Robe bejeweled with Great Silver—do you know what that is?"

When Jim shook his head, she explained. "Great Silver forms a tiny part of ordinary tin, that only Gnarlies can recognize. Crushed by the Gnarly King's magic, as diamonds are made from the like of charcoal by the miles-deep weight of the Earth, it becomes like a jewel—the rarest jewel there is. It's from those jewels on his Robe and his Throne, that his magick springs. But he has to own these rightfully or they can be taken away. Then, someone else becomes King of the Gnarlies and has it."

She paused, her dark eyes focusing past Jim at nothing in particular for a moment. Then they returned to him.

"Yes," she said, almost to herself. "We must think matters out. You do not know why Carolinus sent you to us here?"

"He must have arranged it that way beforehand, against the time I might need to be Departed," said Jim.

"I thought so," said KinetetE. She turned her head and spoke to the audience. "Barron, I'm going to have to ask you to come up here."

There was a moment in which nothing happened, and then a small, fussy-looking man in his fifties, rotund, with a button of a nose, a small unimpressive mouth, and pale blue eyes that blinked frequently, appeared. He was wearing a red robe and a tall pointed red hat, neither of which seemed to fit him very well. He looked exactly like the sort of person who ought to be wearing a pair of metal-rimmed spectacles. But spectacles, of course, were not available in this time and place—and in any case, a magician would not need to wear them: he could make his eyesight as good or as bad as he wanted at any time, magically.

"If I must," he said, in an annoyed tenor voice.

"It'll be your mind and mine, plus whatever we can gain from our young Apprentice, here," said KinetetE. "If the Gnarly King can defy us like this and so mistreat one of our most valuable members, then this is something that threatens us all. I can't understand how the King could fail to realize that."

"Unless," said Jim, "it's because this new King, who seems to have killed the rightful ruler—Hill's father—to take the Throne, has something big in mind and thinks he's invulnerable now, for some reason."

"Speak when you're spoken to, boy!" barked the man who had come to share the stage with KinetetE. He was considerably smaller than either Jim or KinetetE.

"I tell you," said Jim, stubbornly continuing to talk, "there's got to be some kind of pattern to it all; and I think that's a part of it!"