"Here goes, then! Heave me upward with all your might when my foot lands in your hands!"
The young man hurtled forward, springing from his left foot so the right came into the stirrup Hop made with his hands. Grunting with the effort, the mountebank heaved up, and Gord's momentum was translated to an upward arc. He didn't quite make the heavy chain, but his grasping fingers managed to clutch the upper portion of the wire cage. The metal strands sagged but held. He clawed upward and found the chain, hauled himself up some more, and quickly came to the uppermost part where the chain was fastened to the timber roof with a huge staple.
"Now what?" asked the mountebank, watching with concern as his companion dangled froIII one arm while thrusting against the trap door with the other.
"We . . , ugh! . . . shove . . . oof! . . . this out!"
"Never mind! I get the picture. But how about using your feet to kick it out?"
Even from where he stood. Hop could detect the realization dawning in the mind of the acrobatic adventurer. Gord was being stupid trying to open the trap door with one arm. "I was just about to try that," he called lamely down to his companion. Then, after grabbing onto the huge staple with both hands, he swung back and forth a couple of times to gain momentum. The impact of his bare soles upon the wood made a loud, snapping sound, and the force nearly made Gord lose his grip, but he managed to recover and hold on.
"Great going!" Hop called up enthusiastically. The circular trap door had moved upward about a cubit. "Is that enough for you to crawl through?"
"Easily, Hop. I'll find a rope or something and have you up and out in jig time!" So saying, the young thief swung himself again, this time by one arm, launched his body into the opening, and pulled himself through and out.
A minute later, the end of a thick rope dropped into the chamber where Hop waited, falling until it swung about a foot above the earthen floor of the prison. The rope even had knots spaced at short intervals to facilitate climbing. Gord didn't call any instructions and it was dark above, but the plug was now sitting a full yard above the hole it had stopped, so Hop had no difficulty clambering into the chamber above. As he cleared the opening, a reedy voice sounded from behind him.
"Thank you for saving us the trouble of fetching you."
"Huh?" Hop whirled and peered in vain into the darkness.
"Come this way. Your fellow criminal has already been taken to the Arch of judgement."
Soft light sprang forth from the Up of a slender wand. Hop saw a trio of creatures that looked very much like sprites, but these slender, sharp-featured beings were far more beautiful than sprites — and they were larger than he was! One held an unsheathed sword of needlelike shape casually, and the other two had small bows with arrows nocked and pointed at him.
"This is, of course, an honor I cannot refuse," the mountebank said with a courteous bow. "But could I borrow a bit of clothing first?"
"Get going!" the swordbearer said.
Hop did just that.
"There is no great evil within them." intoned the aged male clad in priestly garments.
"None?" inquired the beautiful, spritelike being seated on a throne of carved and polished wood.
"Tinges of peccadillo, a touch here and there of larcenous desire, and a wisp of dishonesty, yes. But true evil? None of that, your glorious majesty."
"Truespeech is to be laid upon them, then." the queen said in a commanding manner.
Two pairs of armed males advanced on Gord and Hop. Both of the prisoners stood naked and feeling exposed in more ways than one. Worse still, there were many other lovely females present in addition to the queen, and they all seemed to be staring.
"Eat this now!" one of each pair of guards ordered the two prisoners. Each man was offered a wedge of steel-blue fungus about the size of a small piece of pie. Gord and Hop opened their mouths, for their hands were tied behind their backs, so they could do nothing else. The guards crammed the fungus wedges in. "Chew and swallow."
"Ulp!" Gord managed to get it all down, bitter as it tasted. He and the mountebank stood in a large, weirdly arched hall. At least two score of the man-sized sprites were here, not counting the queen, her half-score of attendants, and a dozen armed soldiers.
The place wasn't exactly large enough to accommodate the entire throng, even though it was evidently the throne room, audience chamber and hall of justice all in one. There were shafts and galleries and balconies, with more of the spritelike people crowding every available place. These areas, like the walls, floors and almost everything else in the place, were hewn from living wood!
Where they could be, what tree could be so vast. Gord could not imagine. He had heard of roanwoods that grew nearly ninety feet thick, but this was not roanwood, and their surroundings measured more than ninety feet from end to end. Gord knew this, for after being brought up from the storage cellars above the cell he and Hop had been in. he had been led up curving stairs and through a series of oddly shaped and interconnecting rooms, chambers and corridors. All were on one level — and it was the same level that held this weirdly arched chamber.
"Answer her glorious majesty!"
"A ... a thousand pardons, glorious majesty," Gord stammered. "I was bemused. . . ."
"Her glory asked if you had meant to deprive the Poochauns of their treasure." the officer told him in a hard voice.
"Poochauns? Treasure? I was simply gathering wild mushrooms. Of these Poochauns and their treasure I cannot say, for I do not know them or it."
"You!" another official said to Hop. "Did you know to whom the 'mushrooms' belonged?"
Hop opened his mouth, seemed to inhale and swallow, then said, "I knew that the little folk — sprites, grigs, atomies, pixies, and brownies — favor such places. I knew that tales told indicate that these folk relish the dweomerdots. I have crept into the glen aforetimes, though, and picked some small amount. Never did I see anyone to contest my right to do so. The produce of the wild wood is surety the property of the one who takes it first"
At this last remark the queen's lovely features darkened. She spoke directly to the two men. "You humans are presumptuous indeed! Know you not that we have plucked the Coins of Ehlonna — dweomerdots, as you call them — from this very glen since Avalondria became the home of Royal Poochaunla? Not for a century have those of Unsealy Court dared to trespass here!"
Both men shook their heads. "I crave forgiveness, majesty," Gord said, "but I know nothing of Poochauns, Poochaunia. nor . . . Avalondria?"
"Her glory speaks of her subjects, her majestic person, and the very tree we are standing in now, dolt!" the officer said angrily.
"Cease badgering the accused!" said the priestly male. "I shall ask the humans one or two questions — with your glory's kind permission, of course," he said with a stiff bow toward the enthroned queen.
"As you wish, Panloron. Permission is granted."
"To what end did you gather the fungi we call Ehlonna's Coins and you name dweomerdots?"
Hop spoke before Gord could. "To sell, to gain enough money so that my friend, Gord there, could enjoy his few remaining days hereabouts without worrying about costs. The best I would keep for myself, of course, to use in the medicines and potions I make and sell as Hop the Savant — I am not actually a savant, but the claim is efficacious in peddling the products."
"I see," the cleric said. "Do you swindle folk of your race thereby?"
"Perhaps, but I think not. They are pleased with the price, and the material used is of pure and wholesome sort. Some ingredients might actually be beneficial."
"Hmmm. . . , Humans are like this, I know." Turning to look squarely at Gord, the elderly being asked, "What plans had you?"
"To select and secret the choicest ere Hop could know," the young thief found himself saying. He had been angry at hearing the mountebank relate his plan for utilizing the mushrooms in his wares. Now he was blurting out how he thought to cheat Hop out of those of the magical fungi that Gord thought would benefit him, and he could not stop himself from stating the pure truth. "The bulk I assumed would be sold and the profit therefrom divided. I didn't know that Hop planned to unjustly withhold most for his own use!"
"As you were planning to filch the cream of the crop for yourself. Gord!" the mountebank retorted angrily.
"Cease," the old cleric ordered them without passion. "You were each plotting against the other, as your sort do frequently. You have said truthfully that you know nothing of Poochauns. Have you knowledge of the Noblest Little Folk? The Sealy Court? Have you heard of The Princely People?"
Both men shook their heads simultaneously.
"It seems clear to me, my queen," said the silver-locked cleric, "that these two humans sought to compete only with such wild folk as they imagined to inhabit the region. That they should know of Avalondria and the Poochauns would be unthinkable. We would never permit such knowledge.. We have recovered what they took, and they have done no harm. I ask that they be enspelled and taken into the forest. Their memory of Ehlonna's Coins will be wiped out so they will not return, and there will be no tales they can tell."
The queen looked uncertain, and the chief officer spoke up when he noticed this. "Glorious majesty. Panloron grows senile in his dotage! A hint of unscrupulousness is warrant for these two to be exterminated. That, and that alone, will assure your majesty and all Poochauns their safety."
"Yes, yes!" the other officers urged, and several of the others around and in the tiers of galleries above cried out their agreement as well. This was followed by other calls in support of the cleric. The queen still seemed uncommitted.
"How dare you tell your twisted version of our laws to her majesty?" The old cleric managed to sound thunderous as he spoke in a piping voice. "These humans are far from blameless, but this is not sufficient warrant for any Poochaun to condemn them!"