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“He knows that,” Irene said smugly. “But men never learn. Each one thinks he’s different.”

Amolde set himself against the wall, changing his orientation by small degrees so that the aisle swung through the castle. “Grundy will have to report whether we intercept the Queen,” he said. “I cannot perceive the use of the aisle.”

“If anything goes wrong,” Irene said, “Smash will have to go into action, and I’ll grow some plant to mess them up.”

They waited. The centaur completed a sweep through the castle without event. He swept back, still accomplishing nothing. “I begin to fear we are, after all, beyond range,” he said.

Smash put one cauliflower ear to the watt. “Go down for crown.”

“Of course!” Dor agreed. “They are in the dungeon! Below ground level. Aim down.”

With difficulty, Amolde bent his forelegs, leaving his hindlegs extended, tilting his body down. He commenced another sweep. This was quite awkward for him, because of the position and his injury.

Smash joined him, lifting him up and setting him down at a new angle, making the sweep easier.

“But if they are too far inside for the aisle to reach-“ Irene murmured tensely.

“Grundy will let us know,” Dor said, trying to prevent her from becoming hysterically nervous. He knew this was the most trying time for her-this period when they would either make contact or fail. “We may catch Queen Iris, then sweep on past, and it will take a while for the golem to relay the news.”

“That could be it,” she agreed, moving into the circle of his arm.

He turned to kiss her and found her lips eager to meet his own. Once she had declared her love, she made absolutely no secret of it. Dor realized that even if their mission failed, even if they perished here in Mundania, it was privately worth it for him in this sense. He had discovered love, and it was a universe whose reaches, pitfalls, and potential rewards were more vast than all of Mundania. He held the kiss for a long time.

“Is this how you behave when unchaperoned?” a woman’s voice demanded sharply.

Dor and Irene broke with a start. There beside them stood the Queen.

“Mother!” Irene cried, half in relief, half in chagrin.

“Shamefully embracing in public!” Queen Iris continued, frowning. She had always been the guardian of other people’s morals. “This must come to the attention of-?”

The Queen vanished. Amolde, timing as well as he could to face her image, had thereby shifted the magic aisle away from Iris’ cell, so that the Queen’s magic was interrupted. She could no longer project her illusion-image.

“Beg pardon,” the centaur said. He shifted back.

Queen Iris reappeared. Before she could speak again, Irene did so.

“That’s nothing, Mother. This afternoon Dor and I slept together.”

“You disreputable girl!” Iris exclaimed, aghast

Dor bit his tongue. He had never really liked Queen his and could hardly have thought of a better way to prick her bubble.

The centaur tried to reassure her. “Your Majesty, we all slept. It-“