"No. The headsman waits for morning." "Isn't it morning yet?" "The hour is four," the strangely familiar voice whispered. "The Palace lies asleep." Dimly, Kesley realized that this was some sort of impossible rescue--unless, that is, it was another hoax. Frowning into the impenetrable darkness, he said: "Who are you?" There was no answer. But gradually a faint glow enveloped the cell, flickered warmly for a bare instant and died away. "Dawnspear!" "Speak quietly, friend. It was not easy persuading the guards to sleep." Kesley rubbed his eyes, tried to peer into the darkness. The momentary glow of light had revealed the bizarre, piebald mutant towering above him. Cautiously, Kesley extended his hand and felt the rough, cool skin of the mutant's bare chest as if to confirm his vision. "What are you doing here, Dawnspear?" "There are those who would not have you die," the mutant replied. "Winslow and Miguel know you. Two Dukes are in league to take your life, now. They can be dangerous enemies. Come." Dawnspear grasped Kesley's hand firmly and guided him forward. As they passed through the open door of the cell, the metal began to swing shut again. Kesley heard a faint clang as the cell closed. Outside, in the dim light of the dungeons, Kesley made out sleeping forms lying here and there, slumped over their weapons. Guards. "Did you drug them?" he asked. "They were very sleepy," Dawnspear said ambiguously. "We must hurry, now." They glided through the dungeon together, the man and the mutant. Kesley walked on tiptoe, moving delicately as if he were walking on the fragile surface of a dream; at any moment he expected Dawnspear to vanish and the entire illusion to drift into nothingness. But then he smelled fresh air instead of dungeon mustiness, and he knew he was free. "The gate is open down there," Dawnspear said, pointing. "The guards are lost in slumber." Together they crossed the palace grounds and passed through the gate. Kesley turned to the gaunt figure of the mutant to demand some explanation, but Dawnspear had released his hand and was pointing toward the distance. "Within a minute they will all be awake. You will be missed. Flee now, while you have the chance." "Wait a second! How did--why--?" Kesley's whispers died away impotently. Dawnspear had slipped away silently into the night. "_Dawnspear!_" he called harshly. There was no reply. _There never are any answers when you call_, Kesley thought sourly. He wheeled, looked back at the sleeping Palace. Lights were beginning to flicker on here and there; the mutant's influence had ended, and the sleepers were waking. He was free to fly. Once again, he was his own master, bound to no one. The guards stirred within the walls. He could imagine their dismay when they found him gone. Wrapping his cloak tightly around him, he edged off into the night. A horse, first. Then, out the walls some way or other, and to freedom.