Myth-Gotten Gains

I heard the sounds of a scuffle.

"Get your filthy, scaly hands off me!" I had to say Calypsa was magnificent in her indignation, though I didn't like her choice of insults. The outcry was followed by a slap that was audible to everyone in the dungeon.

"How dare you touch me! You shall pay! I will do the Dance of Death!"

Tananda and I exchanged glances.

"That's really not in the script," I said.

Barrik's voice was higher than usual.

"Guards! Guards! ALL my guards, seize this wench!"

"We've got to go," the captain said, signing to the jailor. "Lock these two up. Everyone, get ready to move out!"

They shoved us toward the yawning black hole that lay behind the low door. I braced my feet on the floor, trying to slow them down. Tananda grabbed hold of a wall sconce. The Diles peeled her fingers away one by one and dragged her, an inch at a time, into the cell.

"NOW, Aahz?"

"Be my guest," I said, holding Asti right in the captain's face. "Hey, pal, look at the pretty cup!"

Asti overflowed, not with the milk of golden kindness, but an olive-drab oil slick that would have done a double-ought agent proud. The captain made a grab for me, but his feet whisked out from under him.

CLANK!

He knocked over the next man in line, who dominoed into the third one.

"Omaniee balundarie straterumie brigunderie..."

Payge started reciting spells. The guard holding him stiffened into stone. A couple more Diles reached for the Book.

"Whiskerie sposorie toppirie zing!"

They began to spin in place like tops.

"St-o-o-o-op!" they moaned.

The Book flapped his covers and floated up toward the staircase like a giant golden butterfly.

"See you in the audience chamber," his soft voice called.

"Well, that's my cue, too," Buirnie said. "Come on, Zildie, Klik! On the beat. A one, a two..."

Buirnie, accompanied by his drummer, set up a deafening barrage of martial kazoo music that would have had the henchmen on their knees with their fingers in their ears, if it wasn't compelling them to dance their brains out. Those on dry land dipped and twisted, with a shuffle-off-to-Buffalo for good measure. The rest kicked and hopped. One guard went over backwards. He fell into his companions. They went down like dominoes. The whole troop ended up on their backs in the oil slick. Their legs were still moving. They were begging for mercy by the time I sauntered past them, my feet protected by a non-slip lotion Asti had brewed up earlier that also protected us from Buirnie's compulsory dance spell.

"Father and I went down to camp, along with High General Mikwuk Trimbuli. There we saw the Imps and Mumps as red as pasta fagioli!" Buirnie sang, accompanied by the nasal buzz. The henchmen kept time with the drum, beating their limbs on the ground. "Let's go, boys."

The snare drum, with the Fife on board trotted over the oil slick, lit by Klik's beam. The prone Diles kept on dancing.

"Help me, Pervert," the captain begged. He rocked back and forth.

"That's Pervect," I said. I located the jitterbugging jailor and relieved him of his ring of keys. "Thanks, pal."

"I had better get up there ASAP," Tananda said. I handed her Asti, who continued to spew oil, though carefully missing Tananda's feet.

"Move it. I'll get up there as soon as I can."

She nodded and ran away on tiptoe.

"Light it up," I told Kelsa.

"Light? Right!" Kelsa said. She burst into hysterical giggles. "I made a rhyme!"

But the globe started glowing brightly, until we were surrounded by a golden nimbus. I held her out in front of me and started looking in the cells.

I saw no reason why Barrik should get to keep any of his prisoners. I opened all of the doors I came to along the way. The Walts seemed to have a natural immunity to Buirnie's music. They stepped out of the cells with dignity. Some of them even bowed their thanks as they sashayed past me and bounded out of the cavern.

"Look out for the oil..." I called, but I didn't need to have bothered. When they hit the slick, they just glided over it. I went back to my search.

The corridor was no short passage cut into a natural fissure in the rock. It went on for blocks. I was impressed that the old boy had managed to build such a sizable dungeon in the short time that he had been on Walt. The ceiling got lower and lower as we moved further into the depths underneath the mountain. By the time we got to the last cell, I was stooped over. I unlimbered the last key, a huge piece of iron with a dozen complicated wards at the end of the barrel. I looked into the tiny window. A stooped figure looked up from where it sat. Feathered arms rested on its knees.

"Calypso?" I asked.

The head snapped up, and the Walt's posture went as erect as anyone's could in a half-height cell. "Who wishes to know?" he demanded regally.

"Name's Aahz," I said. "Your granddaughter sent me."

The aged eyes popped wide open.

"Calypsa! Where is she?"

"Upstairs," I said. "She's doing something called the Dance of Death."

The old man sprang up. He fluttered his arms.