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Tip-lea-pon kept guard at the dressing room door. Cammek whispered to her, "This is madness. If
Polsiee tries again, Louizza will be dead as an act of revenge; I'll be dead for not following the decree;
and you'll be dead for not protecting the princess."
"But you can't argue with Louizza's logic," Tip-lea-pon said. "If you put in the understudy, you're a dead
man anyway. And frankly " she looked down on him fondly " I'm damn glad Louizza's got guts. I've
gone to a lot of trouble to save your hide. Wouldn't want it to go to waste. Besides, if the princess
chickened out and her father zapped you, she'd feel guilty forever and end up a rotten queen."
"So the future of Leffing is at stake. That makes me feel worse." He kicked at his chains. "None of this
would have happened if I'd managed to leave the kingdom."
"Hey," she said softly. "It hasn't all been bad, has it? Some things are worth taking a chance on."
He gulped as she slid an arm around him. "You're right. But in the meantime, I'm still the king's prisoner
and we've got to get through the second act without anyone getting killed. How can things get worse?"
Tip-lea-pon grimaced. "Guess who I saw in the sixth row?"
"A frustrated, homicidal actress?"
"Worse. It's that renowned scribe, Creek, son of Attkins. Isn't he one of the judges for the Perrie
awards?"
"Swell. Pennilvath might as well blast me now and save all the bother. Creek's hated four out of my last
five festival entries." Cammek rested his head against Tip-lea-pon's chest. True, it was covered with Sir
Borstler's pasteboard armor, but Cammek always had great powers of imagination.
Louizza opened the door of her room. The pair jumped apart, Cammek falling backwards over his
chain, Tip-lea-pon instantly at attention. "Come on, Cammek," the princess said as she swept past him,
her bodyguard hot on her heels. "Time for me to go out there and knock 'em dead."
"Let's hope that's all," Cammek said weakly.
* * *
Much to everyone's relief, the second act went as smoothly as the first, in spite of "Sir Borstler" popping
up at odd times. Cammek dared to peer out at the audience a few times. Pennilvath thumped his royal
seat with glee every time Louizza appeared; even dour Creek was seen grinning.
The only hint of trouble came during the curtain calls, when the enchanter in charge of lighting botched
the spotlight several times. Louizza got a standing ovation, but didn't stay on stage to enjoy it very long;
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Tip-lea-pon whisked her into the wings as soon as possible.
Cammek stepped out to deliver a few closing words. He normally would have relished the resounding
cheers he got especially those from the royal box but he was unconscious of any other feelings than
profound relief. Then somethingwhooshed by his head. He hadn't had an audience pitch things at him
since that brilliant but unpopular thriller he did about the demon Berber and his companion, the mad
cook. A secondwhoosh and his chained legs were yanked out from under him and his face slammed into
the stage. He heard screams from the audience and caught a glimpse of Tip-lea-pon slashing at the
curtain ropes. The curtain fell with a thud.
Dazed, he slowly sat up. His nose was bleeding all over his best shirt and Abbott Jorj's cravat.
Clim-bor-pon knelt by his side and offered a hanky.
"Whad happened?" Cammek said.
The comic spread his hands. "If I had to guess, I'd say Tip-lea-pon just saved your life.
Somebody care to wager who? started shooting crossbow bolts from the lighting tower. Not to
worry: our multitalented composer is storming the tower even now."
Cammek struggled to his feet, intent on following. Clim-bor-pon stomped on his chain with his heavy
boots and brought him to a complete stop. "Stay here, you twit," he said. "Let the girl handle it. She's the
expert. Listen: I think things are settling down."
The ear-splitting roar of confusion in the house was indeed dimming. Jeclyn, among the tallest in the
company, was peeking out and delivering a running commentary: "Tip-lea-pon's coming out of the tower.
She's got Polsiee. There are guards everywhere. The king's standing in his box, shouting and pointing.
Polsiee's screeching. Gods, here come the scribes! I don't know about you, but I'm not going to wait for
the chronicles to record what she has to say. Maybe I can get quoted a few times myself."
Following the male lead's lead, the cast stampeded in search of publicity. Cammek wearily trudged after.
Polsiee, in the grip of three guardsmen, held forth on her injustices, with the scribes hanging on every
word. When she saw Cammek near, she hissed, "He had it coming! He had it coming! The Festival is no
place for wild innovations!"
"Don't know about that," said Prince Harrold. "I've been quite inspired by the novelty ofAway We Go .
I'm considering an aquatic musical formy next entry. My kingdom has many sea legends, and I have this
fabulous merman with a big brassy voice for whom I haven't found a spot in a traditional play."
"I agree: a most impressive experiment," said Creek. "I shall give it my highest approval, especially the
debut of a new comic star." He actually smiled at Louizza.
"Your Highness!" Tip-lea-pon dashed to the princess, sword drawn. "What are you doing out here,
unprotected?"
"Mingling with my public," Louizza said. "You've caught Polsiee. What do I have to fear?"
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