4.2

The guards accompanying Zyrdicia and the remaining entourage to the South Tower seemed nervous. She noticed the quick, furtive glances passing between the men. They had seen her turn the man to stone and feared for their lives, though they were trying very hard to fulfil their duty. She wondered briefly whether they feared her more than their prince. She hoped so.

Anthony's arm slipped around her waist and pinched her side. He pulled a handful of leather away from her ribs and gasped.

She rolled her eyes. Before he could complain, she protested, "I'd been meaning to come see you in Lyr. I need it taken in. The loose fabric catches pockets of air when I ride the dragon. It feels like a sail filling with wind. I hate it."

"It fit when I made it. If you would stop tweaking long enough to eat, I wouldn't have to revise perfection. I'm an artist. Things like this make me look bad. It's embarrassing. Really it is!"

She pushed his arm away. "I'm not tweaking. I haven't used the elixir since we left your world. You're worse than Portia. Don't start."

"Lay off her, Anthony," Charles interjected, walking behind her, running his fingers through her hair. "Women can never be too thin or too beautiful. Half the women in LA would kill to look half as good as she does. Fuck, half the men would kill for it. She looks better than any super-model ever did." He stopped abruptly, turning the ends of her hair up to look at them in the torchlight of the long passageway. He shook his head slowly, "Oh no, honey. This won't do. I told you all the wind on that lizard kills your hair. Thank god I'm here."

Anthony looked back at the guards then looked at Zyrdicia. "You didn't tell us you were bringing us to the Land of Cute Men."

"Damn, did you see the one on the throne? What a hottie!" Charles responded. He dropped the handful of hair in his hand to bring a clinched fist to his lips, making a pained expression. "Oh, I'd like to see his scepter."

"Oh, please," Anthony countered. "He's straighter than a rail. No self-respecting gay man would have hair like that. Besides, he looks more repressed than a convention of Baptists. I just want to know who does his clothes. His outfit definitely scores fabulous points. I know there's a gay man somewhere behind all that leather. Straight men can't dress their way out of a box so I can guarantee you there's a sassy royal designer hiding in the woodwork."

"Both of you, listen," Zyrdicia said. "I want you to leave the Prince Blackpool alone. He's grumpy. If you piss him off when I'm not around, he's likely to cut you into little pieces. Pester whomever else you please, but leave him to me."

"Heard that before..." Charles mocked

They arrived at a large oaken door and the guards in front of them stopped. Opening it and gesturing them inside. The guards were relieved to be rid of them. They closed the door, locking it as Prince Blackpool instructed. Alone in the hallway, the guards stared at one another.

"Who understood enough of what they just said to report it back?" one finally asked.

"If we repeat what they said, he'll think we're drunk and kill us," the man to his right worried.

"We could make something up…"

"And have the Wizard fry us? No thanks."

"This sucks."

"Yep."

"What if we just tell him the truth-- they were speaking in code?"

"Be my guest. Dibs on door duty. You go report back. If you don't return, I'll figure he kicked the shit out of you."

Although they had just locked it, the door opened behind them abruptly. Zyrdicia stood in the doorway. She looked at them expectantly. "When you go, please tell the prince to let me know when he's ready to brief me on the matter we discussed a few days ago. He'll know what I mean."

4.3

Zyrdicia examined the quarters slowly. It looked as though this part of the castle had not been used in years. It had been recently cleaned and freshened, but the telltale signs of dust clinging to the tops of picture frames and windowsills hinted at a long period of abandonment. Perfect, she thought.

She looked closely at a small crystal statuette of an angel on the mantle of the fireplace. The Wizard's magical fingerprints were all over it. She suspected that the crystals in the angel's eyes connected magically to a scrying device somewhere in the castle. It might be a reflecting pool or a crystal ball. The primitiveness of the trick used to cloak the magic was laughable. These people were nothing if not predictable.

She replaced the angel to its location on the mantle. She might at least be able to have some fun with it. She gestured to Portia, pointing it out. Portia glanced at it for a moment, then nodded.

"I'm sure they can't wait to see you undress," the servant laughed. She glanced at Charles and Anthony, who were in the middle of unraveling the small bundles they had brought with them. They then proceeded to pull improbably large piles of goods from inside them. With a tug, an entire bronze chest emerged from a space no bigger than a backpack. "Of course, at some point the boys will probably make them wish they weren't watching."

Zyrdicia whispered something inaudible. A deep violet light outlined a group of stones in the wall. "And there we have the secret door predictable princes in predictable castles would have to have," she commented. "And predictably curious guests will have to explore it at some point and go where they aren't wanted. For now I'll seal it with a ward of flame to incinerate uninvited visitors."

A red flash near the window caught her eye. "Speaking of uninvited visitors..."

An attractive blonde woman emerged from the red light. She wore only a swath of shimmering, silver fabric. A bit of it swirled around her breasts leaving her midsection bare. Thin strips of the glittering material draped from a belt at her waist revealed shapely legs. A teardrop-shaped piece of glass hung on a golden chain just below her breasts. The visitor looked angry.

"Ah, and so I meet the second of the continent's three Wizards. How delightful."

The blonde woman took a few slow steps forward, measuring the people in the room before responding. She moved with a sensual, feline grace. "I'm not a Wizard, I'm a Witch. My name is Bethel. And I'm here to give you a warning."

"I can't wait," Zyrdicia smiled, anticipating the threat.

"Listen, sweetie, I don't know why you are here, but you better not have any intention of trying to seduce my prince. That could have very fatal consequences for you." Bethel's eye's narrowed menacingly.

"Geoffrey?" Zyrdicia inquired. She tried very hard to look as though the question were serious.

"No, not Geoffrey!" Bethel sneered at the idea. "Dirk. He's is mine. Dirk Blackpool and I are engaged. He has promised to make me his queen."

Zyrdicia looked at Portia and arched an eyebrow. Portia understood. The pretty, red-haired woman moved slowly behind her mistress, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Zyrdicia's eyes moved to the figurine on the mantel. They were ideally centered in front of it. She hoped the prince was watching.

Zyrdicia draped her arm around Portia's shoulders, running her fingers through the other woman's hair. Bethel looked confused. Zyrdicia let her dangle in befuddlement for a moment, then said, "Silly, witch. I'm not interested in your prince. I've never understood what women like you see in penises."

Bethel was speechless. Her eyes grew wide as she watched the raven-haired beauty lean down and kiss the woman standing next to her. She saw their tongues meet. The kiss was long and passionate.

"Oh," the witch gasped, obviously embarrassed and eager to depart. She disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.