A few days later, once the trolls had returned to their hibernation, the three travellers set out again in the direction of Zoltar's castle. It took several days, but eventually, they came to the small town below it. It was an imposing sight, towering many feet above the hamlet on a spire of rock, with the only way up a long winding path up the mountains around it, with several guarded positions. Clearly, they could not reach the castle by that route, it was too open. They would be noticed, and Zoltar would be informed before they got to the first gate.

It was to this end, that they purchased many ropes and things, and late that night, began the long climb up the rock face. This took a couple of nights, as they could not travel by day for fear of being discovered.

Late on the second night, they came across a small cave, in which they camped. Waking in the late afternoon, Darmok noticed the cave continued backwards into the mountain. When the others awoke, he suggested they could follow it, as it was bound to be a secret entrance into the castle.

"Don't be silly," said Vaisen, "that sort of thing only happens in the movies. Real life is not that convenient. Besides, we'd have to have been told about it by some old, one-eyed begger who got kicked out of the tavern."
There was a few minutes silence. Then, a few minutes more. Every now and then, one of them coughed, if only to break the silence. Finally, Jagne spoke.
"Vaisen?"
"Hmmm?"
"What's a movie?"
Vaisen shrugged elaborately. "I don't know, it just sounded like the right sort of thing to say."

But they decided to explore the tunnel, and Vaisen betrayed not a trace of smugness when it ended a few hundred metres in. They continued up the face, arduously climbing towards the castle.

It was nearing dawn when they reached the top, and sat around catching their breath. Darmok slowly coiled the rope, while Jagne looked speculatively at the castle. Vaisen marvelled at the view; endless miles of land stretched away under his gaze, towns, forests, rivers...then his face darkened, and he turned to the castle with a glare that seemed to cut through the air. In the distance, further than either of the humans could have seen, he had spotted the blackened space in the forest where the Bowery had been.

"Well, now we're here, how do we get in?" asked Darmok. Just as he spoke, there was a flash of scarlet light, and Zoltar appeared before them, one hand raised, ready to strike. The orb around his neck pulsing with a threatening glow, and his eyes were like hot coals. He smiled sardonically at their astonished faces, and spoke, his voice like the tearing of silk.
"You don't get in at all, foolish humans, you don't get in."


PART THE 22

It has been said many times, by many different people, and will be said again; if you're at someone else's mercy, pray you face a gloater. Otherwise, they'll just kill you. A gloater will detail their life story and entire evil plans, then is liable to leave you in an easily escapable death situation. Cliches are cliches for a reason.

Fortunately for the trio, Zoltar was a gloater.
"So tell me, what are you three? And what are you doing here?"
Vaisen, Darmok, and Jagne looked nervously at each other. Fortunately, Jagne was a quick thinker. "We're...bards...and...well...we don't have any money, but we wanted to entertain you, so we were trying to get in," she explained.

Zoltar had lowered his hand slightly at the word 'bards'. He was silent for some time. Somewhere, deep inside him, a small part that was still Winslow came to life. He wavered...and lowered his hand.

"Bards!" he cried, almost happily, "Excellent! You must entertain me this evening! For now, you will be given lodgings and food - you must be very hungry after your long climb!"
The three found themselves transported into rooms with plush bedding, a good supply of food, and en suite bathrooms. They also soon found that while they connected with each other's rooms, the main doors were...not locked as such...more...nonexistant. Zoltar may have a thing about bards, but he was by no means stupid. Well, unless you count the fact that.......but that's not important right now.

They all washed, ate, and slept, and were taken to the throne room that evening. Laine was still attached to Zoltar's chair. She gave a start when she recognised Vaisen, but wisely kept quiet. Upon seeing Laine chained up, Vaisen involuntarily shot a glare at Zoltar. It lasted only a second, but perhaps Zoltar noticed, because he suddenly seemed wary.

"So, what exactly is it you do?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Ummm....well, I could tell you some of the incredible adventures of Darmok the Magnificent!" declared Jagne. Darmok swelled appreciably. Zoltar looked unwell.
"I'd rather you didn't," he stated quickly. Darmok deflated again. "Play something, and sing for me!" Zoltar commanded.

If he had picked Darmok, this story might have ended rather differently. Instead, a mandolin suddenly appeared in Vaisen's hands, so he began to play. Elves have rythym. They are infused with music in much the same way as they are infused with magic. A tone deaf elf is rather like a bird without a tail - it can survive, but something fundamental it missing. Jagne began singing a makeshift song, predictably about the heroic deeds of Dar...

"Enough!" cried Zoltar, "I don't want to hear about this Darmok! Do something else!"
"Very well, I'll need my bag," said Vaisen, bowing. Instantly, he had it. He removed something, and threw it to Darmok, saying "You know what to do."

It was an eldeberry wine bottle.