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“I must advise you that the magic associated with me is in a fairly narrow aisle,” Amolde said. “It extends perhaps fifteen paces forward, and half that distance back, but only two to either side. Therefore the Queen’s illusion will be limited to that ambience, and any person outside it will be immune.”

“But a lot can be done within the aisle,” Dor said. “When Irene and I lagged outside the aisle, we reappeared-but the rest of you remained invisible to us. We weren’t immune to the illusion, just outside it. So the Queen can keep us all from the perception of the Mundanes. That’s a considerable asset.”

“True.” the centaur agreed. “But now that they know about our magic, we cannot prevent them from firing their arrows into this region in a saturation pattern that is bound to wipe us out. I have already had experience with this tactic.” He rubbed his flank ruefully. The healing had continued nicely, but he still walked slightly stiffly.

“We must take cover, of course,” King Trent agreed. “There is now plenty of rubble to shield us from arrows. But we cannot afford to remain confined here. The problem will be the elimination of the enemy forces.”’

“Maybe we can lure them in here and ambush them,” King Omen suggested. “We now have two swords, and I am impressed with the ogre’s strength.”

“No good,” Grundy said. He had reappeared during their feast on the pies and now took a small pie for himself. “The Avar commander is a tough, experienced son of a blizzard who knows you have magic. He is heating a cauldron of oil. Soon he’ll pour it down the dungeon steps. Anyone hiding here, with or without magic, win be fried in oil.”

“Impossible to fill this chamber with oil,” Queen Iris said. “It would all leak out.”

“But it will cover the whole floor first,” Grundy said. “You’ll all get hotfeet.”

Dor looked down at his sandals nervously. He did not like the notion of splashing through a puddle of boiling oil.

Trent considered. “And an ambush waits outside the dungeon?”

“Sure thing,” Grundy agreed. “You don’t think they let you sit here and gorge on pies just because they like you, do you?”

“Turn us all into birds, father,” Irene suggested. “We’ll fly out before they know it.”

“Two problems, daughter,” King Trent said. “You will have trouble when you fly outside the magic aisle. I’m not sure how you will function, but probably poorly, as you won’t be able to change back, yet the magic will be gone. Also, I cannot transform myself.”

“Oh-I forgot.” She was chagrined, since the rescue of her father had been her whole purpose.