It had never occurred to Adam that Princess Christina would be anything but ecstatic at the prospect of becoming his bride. After all, hadn't all the women he had ever come in contact with assured him of his positive attributes? Yet this woman, this slip of a girl really, seemed unimpressed with him and at times almost resigned to her fate.

If only he had been better informed he would have been able to present himself in a more confident manner. Yet what was he to do when Morris advised one thing and Varket another? As for Tory, the young man had proven such an annoyance that Adam was soon made sorry that he had asked his young friend to join in the meeting. The only advice he had offered that Adam had agreed with was to laughingly suggest that such weighty matters of state be should be left to those who enjoyed exercising their authority. Unfortunately, the only one Adam would trust with that authority seemed unable to accept it.

Adam sank down onto the edge of his bed and put his hands over his eyes, trying to blot out the memory of the king's white face and labored breathing. How long, he wondered, would his father last? Not long if Burrows guarded hints were any indication.

He rose to his feet and resumed his restless pacing. He was angry with his father for not calling him home earlier, and upset with himself for being angry. Even the knowledge that the king was not at fault for his poor health couldn't stop Adam from resenting the fact that he had arrived home to a dying king and a shaky government.

The ambassador from Sirgonia had insisted certain papers be signed on the morrow. What was he to do, seeing as he had been denied access to his father who was, in all probability, mentally incapable of sorting out a proper solution to the predicament even if asked? His father had told him to draw on the court advisors, yet what was to be done when one constantly received conflicting advice?

What kind of a world was it where such serious matters were left in the hands of an inexperienced youth? Where was the Divine help others had claimed guided them? Adam had never seen evidence of such an all powerful being. Indeed, in his current state of mind, he doubted that such a force even existed.

"If there be such a Power," he challenged, his voice rough with frustration. "Why haven't you revealed yourself? Why have you left an inexperienced youth to carry this burden alone? Is there no guidance you can give? No help you can offer in all your great wisdom?"

A knocking startled Adam until he realized that it was only someone knocking on his bedchamber door. At his summons a young page appeared.

"It was thought you might benefit from a soothing drink, my lord," the boy explained, setting a tray down on the night-stand.

Thinking that he should have known his pleas would fall on death ears Adam sank down on the edge of his bed and accepted the cup of warm ale that the youth held out to him.

Since there seemed to be no forthcoming answers sleep seemed the best choice. Perhaps in the morning things would be clearer. Perhaps the kings health would take a sudden turn for the better. Perhaps he would even be able to take his throne and once again exert his authority.

The drink seemed to be having its effect, for Adam felt suddenly incredibly sleepy and was only half aware of the young page as he helped the prince to undress and don his sleeping garments.

As his head sank down onto his pillow Adam felt a dull pain in his forehead and almost instantly everything went into total darkness.

A jumble of sounds rolled around in his head. A head whose dull ache had worsened into a throbbing pain. His bed, which had been comfortable, had grown hard and cold.

Adam reached down, groping for his thick comforter but his hands found nothing. Nothing but the strange rough texture of his own clothing. Where had his silken night wear gone? Where was the soft bed, the quiet darkened room?

"Hay, Cap, the lads coming to!" At the sound of the unfamiliar voice Adam's eyes flew open.

It must be a dream. A very vivid dream, Adam thought. For his bedroom was gone. In fact, the whole castle was gone. Indeed, the whole country of Brighten seemed to have vanished. In its place was another world altogether. A world, if his present surroundings were any indication, full of barren wasteland and, if the man crouched next to him were a sample of its inhabitants, shabbily clothed savages. The savage leaned closer, the morning light casting dim shadows across his unshaven, weather worm face.

"Here now, Yampa, you're frightening the lad," a male voice gently rebuked.

"Who are you?" Adam squeaked, realized that he did, indeed, sound frightened and struggled to steady his voice. "Where am I and why am I dressed in this disgusting attire?"

"Here, here, now!" The fellow called Yampa rose to tower over Adam. "I'll have you know that's Cap's robe you're wearing. And mighty decent it was of him to offer you the loan of it too. Else you'd still be laying out in the open, naked and, considering how cold the nights have gotten, frozen to death!"

Adam became aware of the cool morning air around him and of the campfire burning nearby and the warmth radiating from it. He forced himself to sit up, but as he did so felt dizzy and light headed.

"That's a nasty crack he was given," the other man said, coming over to inspect Adam more closely.

His face wasn't as frightening as Yampa's, but it was still a rugged face with a thick reddish brown beard that matched the full head of hair cut off just below the ears. The dark brown eyes that met Adam's own were full of concern.

"Who are you?" Adam demanded. "Why have you brought me here?"

"We couldn't very well leave you laying unprotected out in the open, could we?" the younger savage smiled.

"I don't belong here. I must get home."

"Easy, lad." The one called Cap laid a restraining hand on Adam's shoulder as the boy tried to rise to his feet. "All in good time. You'll feel stronger after you've eaten something. Yampa, spear a jipen from the fire. In fact, you'd best remove them all. It's time we were moving along."

"Right you are, Cap," Yampa said cheerfully, picking up a sharp stick.

Adam watched as first one, then two and then three small round objects were dug out of the glowing coals.

"There's nothing like a sweet jipen to restore your spirits, huh, my lad?" Cap demanded.

I must be dreaming, Adam thought, looking around him. These men in their rough, drab clothing weren't real. This shelter that seemed to have been scrapped out of the side of a shallow cliff wasn't real either. Where were the lush meadows of his country, the grazing cattle and sheep? Only the blue sky and rising sun remained familiar.

"I thought I saw a dickon fly over last night." Yampa said, picking up a rock and delivering a hard blow to the thing called a jipen.

"So did I," Cap said, accepting the piece of broken jipen held out to him. "But I think it was too high to worry about. Even if it did spy something, we'll be safely away by the time troops arrive."

"What are we going to do with the boy, Cap?" Yampa asked, nodding toward Adam. "He seems a bit groggy."

"He'll be all right once he's gotten some food in him, isn't that right, my lad."

"The name is Adam. Prince Adam!" Adam snapped, annoyed at being addressed as a lad by such a common oaf who was, apparently, not many years older than himself.

"Well, Adam Prince Adam, you'd best eat your jipen while it's warm." Cap, who seemed unimpressed by royal titles, advised, passing Adam the strange food item.

Adam watched with some disgust as the two men scrapped their fingers through the soft, pale middle and scooped its pulp up into their mouths.

"Come on, my lad, eat up!" Cap ordered. "We don't want Mandel's troops to catch us munching."

"I have nothing to fear from any troops!" Adam protested. "I've done nothing wrong."

"They must have hit him harder than we thought, Cap!" Yampa said, a handful of jipen held halfway to his mouth as he stared at Adam.

"I told you that I didn't think he was from around here, Yampa. Trust me, Adam Prince Adam, you don't want to fall into Mandel's hands."

The earnest appeal in his voice, the warning in his eyes, sent a cold tremor through Adam. Whatever these folks from Mandel were he had an idea that he didn't want to deal with them.

With some disdain he ran his finger through the soft inside of the jipen and touched it to his lips. It was sweet, with a slight tartness to it. Quite pleasant actually, Adam thought, suddenly aware of his ravenous hunger.

As Adam consumed the rest of the soft fruit Yampa covered the fire with sand. Then Cap gathered up the remains of the jipens and buried them. After all signs of their presence had been removed, the bags that held the men's few belongings were slung over their shoulders.

"I hope you're able to walk, Adam Prince Adam," Cap said, helping him to his feet. "If you have any difficulty you must lean on me."

"Where are we going?" Adam demanded, feeling, except for a slight headache, surprisingly fit.

A glance that didn't escape Adam passed between the men before Cap said lightly, "To see about getting you some clothing, Adam Prince Adam. I don't mind offering you the loan of my robe in a pinch, but I'll be wanting it back before the next nightfall. And those old boots of Yampa's, apart from being too big, are almost worn through. For your part, I imagine you'll be happy to acquire some less disgusting wear."

He seemed to be jesting with him, but Adam, who was confused and frightened, didn't feel like joining in the little joke. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there. Had an enemy of the kingdom drugged him and carried him to this remote part of the world? Yet, where in the world was he? For in all his travels, and they had been extensive, he had never beheld anything like these rolling mounds of sand and barren brush. And this was, perhaps, the most frightening realization: he had no way of getting home. He was stuck here, at the mercy of his two strange traveling companions. Companions who seemed to be fugitives themselves, on the run from some dark power known to him only as Mandel.

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