Iota was looking over my shoulder, fascinated. “You do get around, Sir Snab, don’t you? How did you find us?”
I had an idea about that. Claudia had been able to hear the Snab in her head, and maybe that ability was a two-way street. If so, the Snab might have been tracking us with a kind of telepathic GPS. It was a crazy idea, but any crazier than a mermaid with a similar ability? Or a youth-renewing sundial?
As for how El Snabbo had shown up here, my guess was that Leah wasn’t the only one who knew the palace’s secret ways, and a cricket, even a big one, could go places a human couldn’t. That I’d observed for myself, in Deep Maleen.
“Why is it here?” Eris asked. “To guide us?”
If so, it had made a wasted trip, because I knew where we were, although Aaron had brought me a different way. Same wide corridor, with the gas-jets enclosed in fancy glass chimneys. Same tapestries, same marble statues, although the one that had reminded me of Cthulhu had fallen to the floor and broken in two… which in my opinion was no great loss.
I put my hands on my knees and lowered my face until it was almost touching the Snab’s. It looked back at me fearlessly from its place on the nape of Radar’s neck. “Why are you here? Were you waiting for us? What’s your deal?”
Claudia had said something about having to clear her mind. I tried to clear mine, and I think I did a pretty good job of it, given the circumstances and the time-pressure we were laboring under, but if the Snab was sending telepathic messages, they weren’t on my wavelength.
They were on someone’s, however.
Jaya said, “Prince Charlie, the Snab wishes you well and hopes for our success.”
I didn’t think she was making it up, exactly, but guessed it might be wish fulfillment. Then she said something that changed my mind.
Iota listened and began to grin, revealing significant holes in his dental equipment. “Really?” he said. “I’ll be dipped in shit!” （Not what he said; what I heard.） “Let me take care of this, Charlie. May I? As a favor to the one who spent much longer in Deep Maleen than you did?”
I gave him permission. I’d take it back if I could and use the .45, but I didn’t know. The Snab didn’t, either, or it surely would have told Jaya. Thinking of that helps, but not enough. In the whole history of the world—all the worlds—not knowing never changed a single mistake.
5
There was a good-sized hole in the wainscoting behind the pedestal where the statue of the tentacled horror had stood, which made me remember the defective gas-jet in Deep Maleen. A draft moaned in the hollow spaces behind the wall, and bad-smelling air puffed out.
“That’s where the little lord came from, sure as cream makes butter,” Iota said. He had taken the lead in our procession, Leah close behind him. I tried to walk beside her, but she pulled ahead without giving me a glance. Rades took her place, the Snab still mounted on her back. Jaya and Eris brought up the rear. We passed the gold-framed mirrors I remembered and came at last to the mahogany door that gave on the Lord High’s apartment. Because it was one of the few with electric power, I guessed the chambers might once have belonged to Luddum, King Jan’s chancellor, but I never knew for sure.
Leah drew her dagger and I drew the .45, but we both stayed behind Iota. He looked at Jaya and mouthed, Behind the door?
She nodded. Iota rapped with his big dirty knuckles. “Anyone at home? May we come in?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned the knob （gold, of course） and drove his shoulder into the door. It flew back and there was a grunt from behind it. Iota pulled the knob toward him, then slammed the door back again. Another grunt. A third time… a fourth… the grunts stopped… a fifth. Radar was barking. When Eye pulled the door toward him again, the man who had been standing behind it fell out in a heap on the thick red rug that covered the floor of the foyer. His forehead, nose, and mouth were bleeding. In one hand he held a long knife. When he turned his face up to look at us, I recognized one of the men from the VIP box—the one with the scar on his cheek who had been whispering to Petra. He raised the knife and flailed out with it, laying a shallow cut across Iota’s hairy shin.
“Nah, nah, none of that, kiddie,” Eye said, and stepped on the scarred man’s wrist, bearing down until the man’s hand opened and the knife dropped to the rug. I picked it up and tucked it into Mr. Bowditch’s concho belt, opposite the holster.
Leah dropped to her knees beside the scarred man. He recognized her and smiled. Blood oozed from his split lips. “Princess Leah! I am Jeff. Once I put a bandage on your arm when you cut it—do you remember?”