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and her warrior women were safely inside, she threw the lock and spelled the door shut. At once the
Hermetican women started pounding to be let out, and Doretia heard a voice behind the door begin a
weird keening. Zoraida cocked an ear. The hasp started to slide.
"They've got a Junior Enchantress in there, too," she exclaimed. "Hurry." She started chanting. The lock
slid back, just in time.
Doretia didn't waste a moment. "Find that scribe," she shouted.
The little man came out of his hiding place in the audience chamber without hesitation. Doretia thrust the
letter at him.
"Did you send this?"
"Yes, madam," the wretched man said, jumping at the sound of the banging from above. "The prince was
so kind."
"Prince?" Fomentia asked, opening large eyes at the scribe. "Prince Felxin of Catania. They'd be
betrothed by now if it wasn't for her greediness. It was all very unfair." He lowered his voice to a
whisper. "She's very unreasonable. I knew she wouldn't ever let him go. So he wrote the note and I sent
it. Was that wrong?"
"Not at all," Doretia assured him. "Take us to him."
* * *
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The gaoler did not need a sword at his throat to open the cell door in the noisome prison beneath the
castle tower. The sound of chains clanking began when the gaoler preceded them in with his lantern. The
captive prince had risen to greet his rescuers.
Felxin was a head or more taller than Doretia, with smooth black hair, green eyes like a cat's, broad
shoulders tapering down to a slim waist, and a smile as bright as a cathedral full of candles. In his prison
he had still kept himself in shape, neat and clean, no easy task when burdened with a hundredweight of
iron chain fastened to his neck, wrists and ankles. He was more handsome than Doretia could ever have
dreamed. She staggered backwards, feeling like she'd been hit in the stomach by the arm of the family
quintain.
"A ton of bricks?" Promese asked, shaking her purple locks knowingly.
"Two tons," Doretia breathed. The handsome prince knelt at her feet.
"My lady, thank you for your courage. Not everyone has the fortitude to face down Radamanta."
"Oh, he's dreamy," Fometia squealed. Indeed he was, Doretia thought, and wrenched her mind away to
the matter before her.
"Why is Radamanta holding you prisoner?" she asked.
Felxin shrugged his broad shoulders, causing the hanks of gray chain to clatter a protest. "She wanted to
rule my country as well as her own, and yet would not allow the same courtesy to me. I can admire
independence in a woman, but she must have all or nothing. I am prepared to stand side by side with my
queen, not a step below her." Doretia regarded him curiously. He sounded almost too good to be real. A
man with whom she didn't have to fight for equality. He made a sour face. "She not only wouldn't break
off the engagement, but locked me up until I should give in."
"But couldn't you fight free of her?"
Felxin looked abashed. "She's by far the better sword, and you don't have to know her long to find out
how underhanded she can be. She tricked me. Now she holds me by stealth, by chain, and by magic."
He shook his bonds. The crowd of ladies keened in sympathy.
"We'll free you right away," Doretia said. She seized the chain hanging from the collar around his neck
and started searching along its lengths for the locks. It had none. The bad magic she had suspected was
here. She drew her sword. Cold iron would dispel an evil charm. She took aim, preparing to strike. The
prince's cry arrested her. He clasped his hands.
"No, fair lady, don't! If you break the links the magic backlash will kill me. It's a chain of logic, and
cannot be opened by force."
Doretia frowned but dropped the links. "We can't break them. We can't unlock them. What will free
you? It said nothing in your letter."
"The letter!" Felxin exclaimed. "Do you have it?"
It was still in her belt pouch. Doretia took it out.
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"Complete the conditions of the letter, I beg you." Felxin looked around at their faces. "Has anyone got a
pen?"
"A pen!" said Delia. "You need a locksmith."
"In this case, a pen is mightier, and less fatal," Doretia said, suddenly understanding.
"Take mine," the little scribe said, holding out a quill dripping black at the tip. Doretia hadn't even seen
him take out a bottle of ink. She made a mental note to take him with her someone who was a quick
draw like that would be of value in her menage. With a flourish she wrote her name beneath the last one
on the list, Promese's, and waited. Nothing happened.
"Nothing happened," she said, disappointed. "What did I do wrong?"
"It's a chain letter!" Felxin said urgently. "You must pass it along."
"But there's no one else . . ." Doretia began, then smiled. But therewas . She thrust the document at
Fomentia, who seized it happily.
"At last!"
There was a flash and a boom in the small cell, as all the chains binding Felxin burst apart and fell to the
floor in a rain of individual links. Felxin flexed his wrists and stretched his shoulders.
"At last!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, thank you, good lady."
A yelp came from above, accompanied by the sound of metal falling on stone. Zoraida came running
down the stairs.
"You will enjoy this," she said, a catlike smile on her face. "Radamanta and all her gang are now clapped
in chains. It just happened."
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