He glared at a servant following him, who hastily put another metal cup in front of his lord, and filled it from the wine jug, then ran off with the wine jug, presumably to refill it in no time at all.

"It is a plan of Sir James," said Brian. "He has been so good as to tell me of it; and within the limitations of what I know, I find it most attractive. But let him tell you, himself."

Sir Mortimor nodded; but at that moment the door opened behind him and the servant came back with not one, but two, jugs of wine, br.i.m.m.i.n.g. Sir Mortimor glared at him again, for his own cup had been empty for some seconds.

"Sorry, m'lord," said the servant miserably and ducked out, closing the door behind him.

"Well then, Sir James," said Sir Mortimor, taking another hearty draught of wine from his cup. "What is it you have in mind?"

"Something that'll have to be done before full sunrise," said Jim, "otherwise I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to talk to you about it."

"It's a good time to talk." Sir Mortimor sat back in his chair and took another deep swallow from his wine cup. His face was harsh with the lines of middle-age tiredness. They were all tired. "Those Moroccans have given up and gone to sleep down in the village. My men are sleeping too-all those who aren't required to be awake."

"That's the very reason I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible," said Jim. "Because if what I have to suggest to you is workable, we'll need to move quickly before the sun is up. It's all to our advantage that those attacking us are probably asleep right now."

"Well, well," said Sir Mortimor, drumming his fingers on the table top. "What is this you wanted to say?"

"I think there's just a chance we might drive them off," said Jim. "My problem's been I don't know these people and this part of the world as you do, Sir Mortimor. How would they react, say, if they saw smoke coming out from the seaward end of each of their two ships?"

"I've already told you two gentlemen," said Sir Mortimor, "I will not countenance a sally through my secret escape route in the vain hope of firing the ships-since the last thing I want to do is to deprive the villains of the means of escaping."

"Hear me out," said Jim, sharply enough so that some of the signs of fatigue about Sir Mortimor's face vanished and his eyes narrowed on Jim. "I'm not suggesting any such thing. I asked for information. I asked how they'd react if they saw smoke coming up from the seaward end of their vessels. Would you be kind enough to tell me, sir?"

"If they saw smoke," said Sir Mortimor, "of course they would sound the alarm and all rush like madmen for the ships to put out any fire there. But I repeat-I do not want those ships fired!"

"And I have said I am suggesting no such thing," said Jim. "I'm making a suggestion that could involve my helping you with elements of my magical art."

Sir Mortimor's face changed markedly.

"And I do not want any payment," said Jim. "I would be doing this in the spirit, and only in the spirit, in which a guest helps out his host under special situations. Now if you will a.s.sist me with information and listen, Sir Mortimor-"

"I'll most gladly tell and listen. Sir James," said Sir Mortimor. "Most gladly. Forgive me if I sounded overhasty."

"Well then," said Jim, "picture all of them who are sleeping now, suddenly woken up by a shouting that there is fire in their boats. They rush to the boats to find out where the fire is. While they are all cl.u.s.tered around there, some of them scrambling around inside the boats and finding no fire, only smoke, they are suddenly struck by all your men, fully armed and ready for battle. Most of them will have nothing but their belt knives, or perhaps not even that; having just been roused from their slumber, and not expecting to fight men, but a fire."

Sir Mortimor's face lit up.

"We could cut them to pieces!" he said. But then he frowned. "They would have to remain disorganized, however; and all must go perfectly so that we come upon them at just the right moment. If we could only be sure they would stay alarmed, disorganized and not knowing what to do- then, I believe we could simply slay at will. Until a few woke to the fact that there was nothing here for them but death, scrambled aboard their ships and pulled away. By that time they would be too few in numbers to come back again at us. They would leave. But there is that problem. They are fighting men. They might grasp the situation, escape our first rush, get back to their arms-and, as we know, they outnumber us almost five to one."

"Don't you think they'd stay disorganized?" Jim asked. "Particularly if they saw an eight-foot-tall demon fighting with your men? They already know there's a magician with you in this castle-myself."

"How do you know that?" said Sir Mortimor. "How do you know they know you are here and a magician?"

"Because I am a magician," said Jim, in the most ominous voice he could manage.

"Oh, of course-" Sir Mortimor's features suddenly became as obliging as Jim had remembered seeing them the moment he had first set foot in the castle. "Of course. Forgive me, I do not mean to doubt your word at all, Sir James. Can you indeed produce a demon to fight with us?"

"I can," said Jim. "It will take me perhaps half an hour. But there may be a difficulty. How will your men feel, having a demon among them?"

Sir Mortimor's face, which had lit up, lost a good deal of its illumination.

"Now," he said, rubbing his chin, "that is a question. What I must do is introduce the demon to them here, in the castle before they go out. You would not be willing to change into demon form before them?"

"I did not say I would change myself into a demon," said Jim. "I said I would produce a demon to fight with you and your men."

It may have been an illusion of the firelight and the cresset-light, but Jim was almost ready to believe that Sir Mortimor's face had become slightly pale.

"A real demon?" said Sir Mortimor.

"I have said what I said," said Jim. "It does not become me to explain myself. Either you approve my plan, or not. The how and why of it involve matters not spoken of with those who are not magicians."

"No, no. Of course not," said Sir Mortimor.

He gulped from his wine cup and did not refill it.

"A half-hour, you said?" He got to his feet. "Indeed, it will be light, then, but the sun is not yet up. The best of times to strike at men who think they now can spend the morning sleeping, and have been up all night. True, our lads have been up all night too; but they will forget that once they are in the melee. Half an hour from now, then, messires, I will have all my fighting men on the lowest floor of the castle. If Sir Brian will come down first to hold the men, I will then come up to meet this demon and walk down with you to introduce it to them all. Seeing it with you will give them courage to let you close to them. But you will be with me, Sir James, will you not, when I bring the demon down?"

"No," said Jim.

Sir Mortimor paled once more.

"Oh," he said.

"I will be where I can control everything the demon does. You may not ask where."

"Wouldn't think of it," said Sir Mortimor hastily. "I was only concerned with allaying the fear of my men."

"As for that," put in Brian, "I will venture to guess that the greater their alarm on seeing the demon, the greater their courage once fighting the pirates begins."

"You are right in that." Sir Mortimor got to his feet. "I will leave you now, Sir James-Sir Brian. In half an hour, look for me again."

He went out.

"James," said Brian, "will you really raise an actual demon?"

"Not exactly, Brian," said Jim. "There's something I should tell you. I haven't had a chance to, up until now. I had a talk with Carolinus shortly before I left to follow you-about the Christmas party at the Earl's a few months back-you remember that-"

"How could I forget it?" said Brian.

"Well, I used my magic rather freely there, as you know," said Jim. "I was able to do this because I've got a special drawing account. However, afterwards, and before the a.s.signment of wardship came to me for young Robert, I had this talk with Carolinus; and he explained something to me, for reasons which I'd rather not go into, even with you. Reasons why I shouldn't be so spendthrift with my magic. Just believe me-they're serious."

"I had not guessed this, James." Brian looked concerned.

"It's nothing to worry about," Jim said. "But because of that talk, I now need to be a miser with my magic. So, I'm not going to raise any demon-a magician's not supposed to, anyhow. I am, actually, going to make myself look so much like a demon it'll have the same effect. To do that I'm going to have to be completely alone for the next twenty minutes or so. Could I ask you-I know it's asking you to do something beneath your rank, but we're strangers here, and I don't trust the servants-would you stand guard outside the door of this room and see I'm not interrupted for that time? I think if you simply tell anyone I'm doing magic here, n.o.body would want to come in."

"Gladly will I do this for you," said Brian. "And I promise none shall enter."

"Thanks, Brian," said Jim.

"It is but a little thing," said Brian.

He stepped out; and Jim, left to himself, gathered his attention and visualized a make-up kit appearing on the table. It was a good deal smaller use of magic than transforming his appearance. He visualized very clearly what he wanted, and what those things he wanted should be able to do for him. The tusks should seal to his present teeth and look natural. They and the green skin dye should disappear, the minute he visualized himself as no longer needing it. The horns should fit naturally to his scalp through his hair; and vanish as conveniently, when the time came... and so forth. Last, but most important, he should have some boots that enabled him to walk quite naturally, but extended his legs a good two feet above whatever he was standing on.

There was a moment's pause. Then the things he had ordered appeared, with a puff of displaced air, on the table where he, Brian and Sir Mortimor had been sitting a few moments before.

They were all small items, except for the boots, which looked perfectly ordinary, except that their tops appeared as if they would reach well above his knees if he tried to put them on. He decided to leave trying them on until the last.

Instead, he tried the tusks first, simply laying them against his upper teeth under his lip, at the right and left corners of his mouth so that their sharp points curved out over his lower lip, with their points almost touching his chin.

They stuck firmly. The green dye for his skin only required dabbing on the back of one hand, and it spread by itself over all the skin of his body that was exposed-and for all he knew underneath his clothes as well.

The two horns fastened themselves to his head as firmly and easily as the tusks had attached themselves.

His only difficulty was with placing them so that they would be level with each other. He found himself wishing he had a mirror to look in as he worked; and then suddenly realized that with only a small extra expenditure of magic he could have one.

He visualized it. It appeared, standing on the table, eight inches high and five wide, as ordered. He stared at what he saw reflected in it. The tusks and green skin by themselves were enough to make a remarkable change in his appearance. He had not counted on the fact that the tusks pushed out his upper lip at the right and left comers, distorting the skin of the rest of his face.

It occurred to him suddenly that he might try this trick of making himself up to amuse Robert-but Angie would never permit it The thought of Robert was unfortunate. He had a sudden vision of Robert, about ten years old, after hearing Brian's story about this, asking him, "What did you do in the battle?"

Jim found himself suddenly depressed. Brian should be bringing up Robert-but Brian, like just about everyone else he had met so far in the fourteenth century, was too rough. He had seen Brian playfully cuffing his squire around. In spite of the years that he and Angie had been here now, he, at least, really did not fit this time. Those belonging here ignored pain and expected all others to do so.

He pushed the feeling from him. No time for that now. Getting the horns on straight helped take his mind off it. He added contact lenses, which from the outside made his eyes look as if they had diamondlike pupils surrounded by blackness.

He attached claws to his fingernails. From inside he could see through the contact lenses quite clearly, with as good a view as he had possessed without them; and to his relief, they were not uncomfortable.

He had never worn contact lenses in the twentieth century-which now seemed a long time ago rather than something in the future. The last things to go on were the boots. He sat down and pulled on the left one, gingerly.

But his foot slipped easily into it and seemed to go the full length of it. Encouraged, he pulled on the right boot and stood up, banging his head on the room's ceiling. He had not banged it hard enough to do damage, but the contact was painful. The pain made him angry; and since there was no one else around to get angry with, he was angry with himself. He adorned himself with the few more items of make-up that remained.

He took another look in the mirror-and almost jumped. He was the ugliest creature he had ever laid eyes on. He had thought Kelb, in his manlike Djinni body, held this record; but if ugliness was considered as a subdivision of beauty, he was more beautiful than a dozen Djinn, rolled into one.

However, he reminded himself, this was no time for speculating. He raised his voice. "Brian, would you come in now?"

"Gladly, James," said Brian, without. The door opened; Brian stepped into the room, and checked, his right hand jumping to his left hip, to the hilt of his sword in its scabbard.

"James?" he said uncertainly. "Is that you, James?"

His other hand had now flown to his opposite hip and seized the handle of his poignard, so that he was ready to cross-draw both weapons.

"It's me, all right," said Jim hastily. "Do I look that much different, Brian?"

"By all the Saints!" said Brian, staring at him. "If you had not answered me finally with your ordinary voice, James, I would be sure that some demon had seized and eaten you while I was outside. It is you?"

"Yes, it's me, Brian," said Jim. "Sorry I startled you. But at the same time, I'm pleased. If I can do that to an old friend, I should be sure of scaring our foes."

"By our Lady!" said Brian. "They will die of fright!"

"So much the easier," said Jim. "Now, I've got to get hold of Hob, and put him to gathering the smoke to make the pirate ships look like they're on fire. Brian, could I bother you to step outside again; and if Sir Mortimor comes along, would you hold him up and knock on the door first, so I'll have some warning before he comes in?"

"Better," said Brian, "that I knock on the door, then come in myself and make sure you are ready, before you call him in. I would like to see his face when he sees you!"

"Fine," said Jim. "Let's do it that way."

With Brian out of the room he went over to the fireplace, leaned down-way down, it turned out, with the boots on-and called into the top of the fireplace opening.

"Hob? Hob, would you come here a moment? I want to talk to you."

"Yes, m'lord!" chirped a cheerful little voice. Hob popped into view, stared at him aghast and immediately popped back out of sight up the chimney.

"Hob!" called Jim again, awkwardly bending even farther to make sure his voice carried all the way up the chimney. "Come back. Never mind what I look like. It's me, Sir James, your Lord. Pay no attention to my face. This is just a false appearance."

There was no answer. He kept talking up the chimney, pleading with Hob to come down, with his belt buckle earnestly trying to dig its way through the middle part of his body to his spine. It was hard to find breath to talk with, bent awkwardly double this way. Finally, however, a small voice answered.

"You're not m'lord James," came Hob's tones tremulously. "You're a Djinni."

"I am not a Djinni," said Jim earnestly. "I'm a demon-I mean, I'm your Lord James Eckert that you know very well, just pretending to be a demon. I know I've made myself look like a demon, but it's me.

Come down here, Hob! I have to talk with you! It's time for us to rush out at the men who've been trying to get into this castle; and that means I'm depending upon you to get things done too. Come on down so we can talk about it."

The top of Hob's head inched into view upside down. It took a good half-minute for all of his face to appear.

"If you're m'lord James," he said, "what was the name you gave me, before you had to take it back?"

"I named you Hob-One de Malencontri," said Jim. "And I'll still call you by that name when I want to.

It's just that the rest of the world can't."

Slowly, fearfully, Hob came out into the room. Jim was very careful not to move at all.

"If it's really you, m'lord," said Hob quaveringly, "what do you want from me?"

"I want you to do what we talked about you doing," said Jim. "Sir Mortimor's going to be along in a moment; and I'll be going down with him to let the rest of his men see me, and rea.s.sure them all's well.

I'm not going to tell them I'm Sir James; but I don't want them to be afraid of me, looking like this. Also, I want them to believe I'm there to help them, fighting on their side."

"You look terrible!" said Hob, coming slowly but fully into view. "Are you sure you're you?"

"Of course I'm sure," said Jim. "But all that means is we're just about ready to go; because the sun'll be up soon. I want you to get busy right away gathering smoke so that we can have it coming up from the end of the ships for perhaps a good fifteen or twenty minutes. They may not notice the smoke going up right away."

"Oh, I've already got the smoke all bundled up," said Hob, more strongly now. "There wasn't anything to that. What do you want me to do next?"

"There's a fireplace on the ground floor where all Sir Mortimor's men are gathered," said Jim. "Will you take the bundle of smoke, go down that chimney and listen from that fireplace to what we talk about down there? Then, as soon as it looks like we're just about to start the attack, I want you to go ahead to the boats and start the smoke going up. We'll probably all come outside the castle, but wait there until we see the smoke, ourselves; and until the men who have been attacking us start running down to the ships to put out the fire they'll think is on them. How long will it take you after you stop listening to reach the ships and start the smoke rising?"

"Oh, almost no time at all," said Hob. "By the time you and everyone else are outside, I'll have the smoke going up. I can't do anything about the men down in the village seeing it, though."

"That's all right," said Jim. "I don't expect you to-"

There was a scratching at the door.