“Wombat, I presume?” said the Brigadier.

     The man was small and had an inconspicuous look to him. In a crowd, the Brigadier thought, you might glance at him and then immediately forget he existed as your attention drifted to the people around him. Only when standing alone, as he was now, did you notice him. He had mousy brown hair and a rather vacant look to his face as if no important thought had ever crossed his mind. When he moved, though, he did so with purpose and determination. He moved as if he had every right to be there and that anyone who questioned it would end up looking foolish. It made him the perfect infiltrator and the Brigadier nodded with approval. Private Grey also had an inconspicuous look to him in his civilian clothes. It was the Brigadier who would be the weak link on this mission, he knew. He was the one who stood out, who attracted attention with his noble, aristocratic bearing.

     Maybe I should sit this one out, he thought. Let Wombat and Grey make contact with the Princess. Get an update on her situation and receive orders while he remained behind. He dismissed the idea almost immediately. If they needed to extract the Princess, his fighting skills would be needed. They just had to think of a way to get him into the palace without his imperious grace giving them away.

     “And you're the Brigadier,” said the spy, coming forward and looking around to make sure they were alone. The rose garden was empty, though, except for a gardener fifty yards away, eho completely ignored them as he busily chopped weeds with a small hoe. “Princess Ardria is safe. She is being held in the guest quarters, immediately adjacent to the private rooms of the Royal family itself. There are guards everywhere. The Princess herself has her own guards, though, who do not mingle with the rest of the palace staff.”

     The spy spoke with a calm, emotionless voice totally without inflection or any change in tone. It was the kind of voice that might have issued from a machine, if machines could talk. A voice that seemed to slip right through the brain without making any impression upon it. It was a voice that could have announced the end of the world and been immediately forgotten by everyone who heard it.

     “Have you had a chance to speak to her?” asked the Brigadier.

     “The King allows no-one except her guards to speak to her, not even members of the Royal family. Even the maids and servants who normally clean and carry have been excluded. Nilon has apparently decided to let the dust gather for the duration of the Princess’s stay. Prince George has tried to speak to her many times and the King has refused even him. Nilon is being merciful to the Princess by doing this, I believe. Prince George is perfectly vile.”

     “So how do we get to her?” asked Private Grey.

     “There is no way to do so without risk. The least risk will be to wait until tonight, when most people will be asleep, and then just walk in as if we are entitled to do so, saying we are on the King’s business.”

     “I don't like the idea of waiting,” said the Brigadier, though. “Too much can happen in the meantime. How can we get to see her now?”

     “I have survived this long by taking no unnecessary risk...”

     “So I have noticed, but the time for caution has passed. We must risk all or lose all. How do we get to see her now?”

     The spy code-named Wombat looked deeply unhappy, but then he nodded. “You will be the biggest problem,” he said, looking the Brigadier up and down. “We have to find a way to hide you in plain sight. There may be a way. One of the King’s cousins, Dimitri, has deformed legs. An aberration that arose during his raising from a hunting hound.”

     “He's the one whose face is on the ten King note?” said Grey.

     The spy nodded. “He cannot walk and has to be transported in a wheelchair. If we sat you in a wheelchair and draped a shawl around your shoulders, your aristocratic bearing would not be so evident. He is smaller then you, which is a problem, but I've observed that people tend not to pay too much attention to cripples. They find them embarrassing. A sad comment on the human condition but one that we can put to good use now.” He looked at Private Grey. “And I can find a footman’s uniform to fit you, I think. That will get us to the eastern end of the south wing, at least. After that, we’ll have to play it by ear.”

     “Good,” said the Brigadier, nodding. “Lead on.”

     “What’s your name, anyway?” asked Grey as they walked. “And what do you do in the palace?”

     The small man stared at him in horror, but then shrugged. “You can already identify me, so what the hell. My name is Lucius Tweed and I'm the Underbutler, Gregory Hill’s deputy. That's useful, because if we meet a member of staff I can say that I'm on an errand for him.”

     “And if we meet Hill himself?” asked Grey.

     “They I'll say I'm on an errand for a member of the Royal Family.”

     There was a Radiant floating above the palace, they saw, and they were acutely aware that it must have been able to see them as they followed the path towards the palace. Hopefully, it had no reason to pay special attention to them. Tweed took them to a spot where there was a wooden bench with its back to a large hedge. The hedge hid them from the Radiant’s sight and Tweed left them there while he went the rest of the way alone. Half an hour later he returned and led them to a side entrance where he'd left a wheelchair on which clothes were piled. “Get changed quickly,” he said as the two Helberians began undressing. “There's something going on in there.”

     “What?” asked the Brigadier.

     “I don't know, but everyone seems very excited about something. Something to do with the war, and the Princess.” The two Helberians exchanged glances and started changing clothes faster.

     The Brigadier then sat in the wheelchair and Tweed draped a shawl over him to hide his toned, muscular frame. “You look far too big,” he said. “Hunch down a little.” The Brigadier did so, and let his head droop down towards his chest. He still felt conspicuous, but he heard Grey give a gasp of surprise. “Astonishing!” he said. “You’re a born actor, Brigadier."

     Tweed also looked impressed. “Maybe we’ve got a chance after all,” he said. “Grey, you push the chair, and remember. You're very junior in the household. Even the maids are higher than you. Act subservient to everyone, even the lowliest servant.” Grey nodded, and Tweed gestured for them to move.

     “We'll go again tomorrow if you like,” he said for the benefit of the guard on duty at the door. “Would you like that, Your Lordship?”

     “Too cold outside,” said the Brigadier, though, in a weak trembly voice. “Take me back to my rooms.”

     “It is a bit chilly,” agreed Tweed. “Perhaps it'll be warmer tomorrow. We can go see the maze. Would you like that?”

     “No,” replied the Brigadier. “Take me back to my room and get me a bottle of Taga.”

     “Taga? Perhaps some kelnish wine, Your Lordship.”

     “I said Taga you idiot. Kelnish wine is for animals.”

     The guard barely glanced at them as Grey wrestled the chair across the threshold, and he dismissed them from his attention entirely as they proceeded along the corridor. “So far, so good,” said Tweed. “Good bit of improvisation, but the way.”

     “Pay attention,” said the Brigadier, though. “People ahead.”

     They carried on their improvised conversation as they proceeded along the corridor, and everyone they passed dismissed them with a single glance until they reached the stairway up to the first floor, which alone had a connecting corridor to the guest quarters. The Brigadier had to get out of the wheelchair and limp up the stairs one step at a time, wheezing and grumbling and with Tweed supporting one arm, while Grey carried the wheelchair up. At the top he got back in the wheelchair, Tweed draped the shawl around him again and they prepared to move off. Just at that moment, though, a maid emerged from one of the side rooms and stared in surprise at the Brigadier. “I thought Lord Komarov was in the library,” she said. “I saw him there just a...”

     The Brigadier quickly looked around to make sure there was no-one else in sight. Then he leapt from the chair towards the maid, who had time for a single gasping intake of breath before the Brigadier’s hand clamped down hard over her mouth. He pushed her roughly back into the room she was just leaving, which was empty, he was relieved to see. That had been a bit of a gamble. He threw her to the ground and tore her uniform to strips, using it to tie her up while Grey shoved more cloth into her mouth as a gag and tied it in place with her belt. “Is this room used much?” he asked Tweed.

     The Underbutler turned spy had just stared in astonishment while the others bound the maid. He shook his head wildly. He swallowed a couple of times, staring at the maid who could barely move, so tight were the strips of cloth biting into her bare arms and legs. “I'm not even sure what this room is,” he said at last. “I don't think I've ever been in here.”

     The Brigadier picked up the whimpering maid and carried her through into the next room, which seemed to be a storeroom of some kind, full of dusty cabinets. He placed her gently on the floor and left, closing the door behind him. “It might be days before she's found,” protested Tweed as they went back out into the corridor.

     “Can't be helped,” said the Brigadier, not without sympathy as he got back into the wheelchair. “How long does Lord Komarov tend to stay in the library?”

     “All day, once he gets his nose in a book. No need go worry about bumping into him in the corridor.”

     “Good. I'd hate to have to tie up a cripple. Let's go.”

     Tweed nodded, nervously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The Brigadier stared at him in concern, and the spy took a couple of deep breaths, making a great effort to appear relaxed in case his distressed state attracted attention. Then, when he was ready, he resumed leading the way along the corridor, Grey pushing the Brigadier along behind him. “So, we're committed now,” he said. “The moment someone finds her, they'll know there're intruders in the palace. We have to get the Princess out now, or not at all.” The Brigadier nodded but said nothing.

     They passed more people as they went, but weren't challenged. “This is incredible,” said Grey quietly as they passed through a stretch of empty corridor. “The Brigadier looks nothing like Lord Komarov! He doesn’t even have a beard!”

     “All they see is a man in a wheelchair,” said Tweed, equally quietly. “And as a doorman, you are beneath notice.”

     “It still stretches credulity,” said the Brigadier. “If two men were able to get into Paisley Palace this easily, Leothan would have every guard's head on a spike.”

     “Maybe the Carrowmen are just too cowed and timid to try a stunt like this,” suggested Grey. “And as a result, security has become lax.”

     “It's still the King's palace in time of war,” pointed out the Brigadier. “King Nilon’s security is inexcusably lax.”

     “There's just nothing in this part of the palace that he cares about that much,” said Tweed. “The residential wing is different. I’ve been giving it some thought and I still have no idea how we're going to get in there.”

     “Those Above will provide,” said the Brigadier confidently. “Where are Lord Komarov's rooms compared to the rooms in which the Princess is being held?”

     “Nowhere near, I'm afraid. The Princess is being held in the Lavender Suite, the one used to hold imprisoned dignitaries. It has no external doors. To get out, you have to go around the Kelnish courtyard and along the Portrait Passage. There are bound to be guards everywhere, all of whom will refuse to allow Lord Komarov to pass, even if we can convince them that that’s who you are.”

     “If we can’t get past them, we’ll have to go through them,” said the Brigadier.

     Tweed laughed nervously. “Just the two of you? You're going to storm a palace with two men?”

     “In case you hadn't noticed, there are three of us,” said the Brigadier. “I assume you can handle a sword and a pistol?”

     “In case you hadn't noticed, I'm an Underbutler, not a soldier.”

     “You are whatever the King requires you to be. We’ll get weapons for you.”

     “I've had no training!”

     “The sharp end goes in the other guy,” said Grey with a grin. Tweed just stared at him in horror.

     The Brigadier stared at him for a moment, appraising how much use he'd be when the fighting broke out. At the very least, he'll draw some of the fire from us, he thought. Maybe that'll be enough. “Let's go,” he said. Grey pushed the wheelchair onwards, grinning cheerfully at the Underbutler, who wiped his mouth nervously again before hurrying after them.

     They passed along corridors, around corners and past other members of staff, all of whom paid them almost no attention until a woman in the uniform of a senior housekeeper paused and stared at the Brigadier. The Brigadier, knowing that she'd seen through the deception, leapt out of the wheelchair towards her. His hands went for her throat. No choice but to kill her quickly and quietly, he thought, and pray to Those Above that nobody hears the disturbance.

     “It's me!” said the woman, though, throwing off her headband. Grey hair fell around her head. “Don't kill me!”

     The Brigadier stared in surprise. “Soonia Darniss,” he said. “Traitor, under sentence of death...”

     “I can help you! I came here to try to free the Princess! I can help get you in there!”

     “Brigadier?” said Grey quizzically. “You know this woman?”

     “This is the woman who tried to kill the Princess. Turn her into a demon.”

     “Things have changed,” said Darniss desperately. She still had her dagger, but she knew just how useless it would be against this man. If he decided to kill her, she would die and there was nothing she could do to stop him. “Nilon tried to kill me. I have no future here any more. My only hope is to help Helberion win the war. I know you have no reason to trust me, but you can trust my desire for self preservation. I will do whatever I have to do to survive, and right now that means helping you to save the Princess.”