Dennis swallowed. “To—watch the Princess Aria?” he said.
“Yes, Dennis. And to wait.”
CHAPTER 45
The back of Malbawn’s hut had collapsed from the weight of evening rains and a branch the rain had brought with it. Vines were crawling through the sagging remainder of the structure, but the mirror was still clear.
Dennis stood before the glass—if it was glass—with his visor raised, waiting for Chester to prompt him.
“There are those,” the robot quoted acidly, “who know the path but do not take it.”
Dennis blushed. “Mirror, show me the Princess Aria,” he ordered.
He needed Chester’s help to guide him through this. But he also needed to act on his own when he could.
The mirror shimmered, but for a moment Dennis thought it was still displaying the interior of the hut and the shadowed jungle beyond. Then his eyes focused on the new scene; he recognized Aria. She stood at the bottom of a sloping staircase. There was a lamp in her hand and a look of mastered fear to make her lips quiver.
There was illumination beyond the sphere of lamplight which hung in the humid air. The half-light was a gray ambiance, scarcely bright enough to be called a glow. It soaked the floor—and perhaps the walls as well, but they were too inconceivably distant for Dennis to see them.
The staircase down which Aria had come was made of stone, not the slick material from which most of the city was constructed. The treads had been worn hollow in the center, though Dennis couldn’t imagine that anyone came by this path except at Rakastava’s demand.
Aria’s lips moved as she called out.
“Chester, where’s Gannon?” Dennis demanded. “He’s supposed to be with her.”
“Gannon came with the princess to the bottom of the stairs,” Chester explained calmly. “And now he is in the darkness behind her, where she does not see him… and he hopes Rakastava will not see him either.”
“W—” Dennis said. “Will it see him?”
“Rakastava cares nothing for Gannon, Dennis,” the robot said. “Rakastava’s business is with the Princess Aria.”
The youth’s eyes stung with tears. “She should’ve taken me,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’t have run.”
“She knew you would not run, Dennis. And she did not want you to die.”
Aria stepped forward carefully. Only a few yards from the base of the stairs was a stone coping. Beyond that was water, smooth and black and limitless in expanse.
The glow from the walls fell on this underground sea as on glass. The princess was a white blur, a statue of Grief reflected in a cemetery pool.
The water rose, slopped over the coping and the princess’ sandals. Her lamp bobbled as she took a startled step backwards. She covered her mouth with her free hand.
The sudden wave receded, then rushed forward again and soaked the lower treads of the staircase.
Aria dropped the lamp to sputter and die in the foam as she clapped both hands to her ears. Dennis couldn’t hear the bellow—but he’d heard Rakastava’s voice in the assembly hall, and he could imagine the thunder that was beating on the princess now.
“Chester,” he moaned, “why did you let me leave her? I should have—I should have gotten down there…”
His eyes were closed and his mind was so concerned with punishing him for his failure—cowardice, he should have found a way—that he didn’t for a moment understand the words when Chester said, “You can go there now, Dennis.”
“You mean?” the youth said as his eyes flew open and flashed around him, somehow expecting to find that he was in the city instead of the hut a mile away. “No, it’s too far to get there in time!”
Something was moving in the distance glimpsed through the mirror. It was as black as the water, but the water surged away from it; and above were its eyes, six sparks as bright as rubies from the floor of Hell.
“You can be there now, Dennis,” Chester said, “if you step through the mirror.”
Dennis drew his sword and stepped through the mirror. He didn’t ask or question, because Chester had told him what he wanted to hear.