When he was once more outside, across from the palace of the four kings, he suddenly remembered something that the head of Troubleshooters, Inc. had told him. He looked and saw that the small metal flower was still in his lapel. He put his mouth close to it and shouted.
“Brian Shanachie!”
“Well,” said a voice which seemed to come out of the air directly over his head, “I was wondering if I were ever going to hear from you.”
“What do you mean?” Kevan demanded indignantly. “I haven’t been here more than an hour.”
“Time, my dear boy, is relative,” the voice said airily. “How did you make out with Alviss?”
Kevan quickly related all that had happened. “What shall I do?” he asked when he’d finished. “Obviously I can’t go to—wherever it is—and just steal the girl.”
There was a heavy sigh ou
