The freedom of flight was glorious, without an airplane or a broom between him and the elements. Shea resolved to get Monkey to teach him the spell, then remembered that it probably would not work in any other universe—and he was not sure he would want to try, if he did not have guaranteed results. He resolved to enjoy it while he could, and found himself almost sad to be soaring in through the door of the Treasure Wood Temple and settling on the floor. It was a real wrench to feel himself growing so huge and leaden, becoming human once more.
By the time he had readjusted, Monkey was already finished with his report, and Tripitaka was asking, "So he is bound back here to us, then?"
"He is," Monkey confirmed.
"And he's in such a stew that he probably isn't going to think to be careful," Shea added. "He'll probably have five spies following him before he's out the city gates.
"Well, they will not manage to follow him all the way through the wood," Monkey answered, and turned to Pigsy. "Will they?"
Pigsy grinned and said, "Of course they shall not, Monkey." He turned away to the door.
"Remember, no killing!" Tripitaka called, alarmed.
"No killing," Pigsy agreed, with real regret. "I will not even give them one more blow than is necessary— but I assure you, Master, they will not follow the prince here."
"Even if they did, what matter?" Monkey shrugged. "Who could fault a prince for visiting a temple?"
"That is so, " Tripitaka allowed. "But what are we to tell him when he has come?" Boots sounded in the hall.
Monkey looked up, alert. "Sandy! Make sure Pigsy succeeded!"
The reformed cannibal gave him a sharp-toothed grin and turned to the door. He bowed as the prince strode in, then slipped out.
The prince had not even noticed him. In fact, he did not even seem to notice Monkey, Shea, and Chalmers. "Reverend prince! Holy sage! I apologize most abjectly for my rudeness and my skepticism!" And he bowed low.
"I am honored by your apology." Tripitaka inclined his head. "But I must caution you, prince, to seek only justice, not revenge."
"Justice will have to satisfy me, then," the prince sighed, "though I will not deny that I had rather see the usurper suffer the Death of the Thousand Cuts. Still, if justice it must be, I shall be content. How, then, are we to go about it?"
Tripitaka sat very still. Shea hid a smile; the monk had been about to ask the same question.
"It would seem to me," Monkey said, with deference, "that before we can speak of justice against this sorcerer, we must capture and hold him. Then may we judge him."
"True." The prince frowned. "Yet if we do not kill him outright, how are we to convince his ministers and generals that he is a false king?"
"How are we to prove it even if we were to kill him outright?" Monkey countered.
Chalmers cleared his throat and stepped forward.
Both princes looked up, surprised.
"Pardon my intrusion into so lofty a discussion," Chalmers said, "but it is written that the sage seeks wisdom from the East and from the West."
"It is?" Shea stared.
"By W.S. Gilbert, Harold," Chalmers hissed. "How is it written?" Monkey demanded. Chalmers recited,
"And you are from the West." Tripitaka smiled. "Though, I hope, you are not a fool. Well, then, Magician Chao-mar-zi, what wisdom have you to offer, to aid us in our plight?"
"An instance from the law of my country, Reverend Sir. There, if a man is imprisoned and not released after three days, his counselor can demand that the jailers present the body, to prove that the man is alive and well."
"Or beaten and dead," Monkey said darkly. "Drowned, in this case—but I take your meaning, Chao-mar-zi." He looked up at Tripitaka.
The monk nodded. "Surely presenting the dead body of the king would be most convincing proof of the usurper's falseness. Do you not agree, Your Highness?"
"Why, of course," the prince said, astonished. "But how are we to retrieve it?"
"That, I think we may leave to the wizard who recommended the course of action," Tripitaka said slowly. "May we not. Wizard Chao-mar-zi?"
Chalmers stared, totally taken aback.
Shea stepped forward. "Why, of course, Reverend Sir." Frantically, he was trying to figure out what sort of spell could raise a dead body from a well.
He still had not figured out the answer by the time the prince left to start plotting, and Monkey turned to him with a grin. "Excellently thought, Xei! And how shall you raise the dead king's body?"
Shea stalled. "It'd be kind of chancey. It would need a brand-new spell, and I don't need to tell you how many things could go wrong with that."
Chalmers blanched—he knew very well how much could go wrong.
Monkey nodded, satisfied. "Truly said. Indeed, there are some puzzles that are best solved by the use of brute force."
Pigsy strolled in, grinning. "It is done. Master. The prince had passed by on his homeward course before the spies who followed him began to regain their senses."
"But there was no killing?" Tripitaka asked anxiously.
"Not even by accident," Pigsy said regretfully. "In fact, I'm sure none of them even saw me."
"Pigsy," said Monkey, "would you like to find a buried treasure?"
Pigsy's little eyes expanded amazingly. "A treasure! Gold and gems, all for myself? Where is it, Monkey? Tell me, tell me!"
"I'll do better than that," Monkey said. "I'll show you." He turned to Shea. "Would you care to accompany us, Wizard?"
Shea knew better than to decline.
The moon was high when the three bats landed near the grassy mound with the mulberry sapling on top, in the center of the palace gardens. They crouched on the ground, then expanded amazingly into Monkey, Pigsy, and Shea. Shea was almost regretful about it—he had enjoyed the bat's soaring even more than the housefly's buzzing. On the other hand, that was definitely the kind of spell that could get him into trouble in other universes, including his own.
"It is under here," Monkey told Pigsy.
"Stand back, then." The pig-face grinned, showing tusks. "We shall uncover it quickly." He yanked the sapling out by the roots and tossed it over his shoulder. Shea jumped back in alarm, and so did Monkey. Good thing, too—Pigsy got busy with the muck-rake, and the dirt flew out in a continuous stream. Quickly, the whole of the mound disappeared. Then the muckrake thudded on wood, and Pigsy frowned. "Wooden boards? What is this?"
"A well cover. Monkey stepped up and, with one titanic heave, flipped the cover off the well.
Shea glanced up at the walls nervously. How could the sentries help but notice?
Foolish question. With a magician like Monkey beside him? Why did he bother asking?
"Down there?" Pigsy looked down, frowning. "You did not tell me anything about a swim, little brother!"
"Why should it bother you?" Monkey asked. "You've done your share of diving in your time. Down with you, Pigsy! The treasure is at the bottom of the well!"
"If you say so," Pigsy grunted, and dove in with a splash that Shea could have sworn must have waked the sorcerer-king—but there was no reaction, no cry of alarm, no gongs sounding. In fact, he heard nothing. Nothing but night-birds—and no sound from the well. When he was sure five minutes had passed, he said, "Has he drowned?"
"He can hold his breath far longer than this," Monkey assured him. "Do not fear for our brutish companion, Xei—and do not worry; it is a deep well."
Very deep; another five minutes must have passed before a bloated body suddenly shot from the surface of the well with a huge splash. Shea flinched back in sheer reflex, then realized that the body was hanging from the prongs of a muck-rake. Pigsy's head was right behind it. "This was all I found! Where is the treasure. Monkey?"