"Yes, of course. You have made a great beginning to your career, Monsieur Chauvet."

"Thank you, monsieur," said Mihalik. He too shook Treville's hand. Cheryl nudged him, and Mihalik came smartly to attention beside the unsmiling Athos.

"Perhaps you wonder why I asked you to appear before me this morning," Treville began.

"It must concern our unfortunate collision with the men of the Cardinal's Guard," said Porthos, trying to hide his satisfied smile.

"Ah, yes. That." Treville's face clouded for an instant. "I must get to the King to explain that little contretemps before Monsieur le Cardinal explains it from his point of view. But no, you will receive no congratulations from me; you were but performing your duty as Royal Musketeers. And you will receive no condemnation, for reasons I suppose you already understand well enough. I have asked you to attend me for quite another purpose."

"Then it must concern the King," said Athos. "Or more precisely, the Queen."

Treville's expression did not change, but his glance lingered for a long silent moment on the face of Athos. "Yes, my friend," he said at last. "I wonder if it is necessary for me to speak to you of the matter at all. But perhaps your young apprentices do not share your perception. It is important that they, too, have all the facts that you have evidently already gleaned from some secret source.

"For some time, my Musketeers, I have known of a rumor that threatens to shake the very throne of France. Whether it is true or not I cannot say, but that is not of very great importance. The rumor itself is the danger: it is that our Queen, Anne of Austria, the beautiful and gracious wife of Louis XIII, has been replaced by a twin, a woman so precisely like the Queen in all respects that not even the King himself suspects that it is an imposter who accompanies him at court."

"If not in the boudoir," said Porthos.

Treville's eyes closed, like a man enduring a kind of agony. "You do our King no credit with such an observation," he said coldly.

"Forgive me," said Porthos, "but, to be sure, it is common knowledge--"

"If I may continue," said Treville. "According to the stories, the genuine Queen is a captive in theBastille, a prisoner of the Red Duke, Cardinal Richelieu. No one knows his motives or his schemes, but they cannot bode well for the Queen, or for France."

"You wish us to search out the truth in this matter," said Aramis placidly. He held a slender volume, a book of prayers with his place marked by a lady's handkerchief.

"Yes, that is the case. You must perform this task with utmost delicacy, secrecy, and tact. The fate of France may depend upon your actions. The fate of our dear Queen -- a queen, but also an innocent woman caught in the tangled plottings of the cardinal -- that, too, is in your hands."

"But have no fear," said Athos, "for there is no one else in France so capable as we three. We five, now that we are of that number." He bowed politely to Mihalik and Cheryl, who returned his elegant salute.

"I am not fearful," said Treville, "for I trust your skill and judgment. But I do not sleep well these nights, and I shall not until this affair is concluded. Now go, and make your plans well. I will do everything I can to aid you in your inquiry. I pray you to report to me daily, and do nothing to arouse the suspicions of the cardinal or his men."

Some time later, over a midday meal of roast saddle of hare, the five musketeers began to devise their scheme. "It is not an easy thing Monsieur de Treville has set before us," complained Porthos.

Cheryl swallowed some ale and wiped the foam from her lips. "But it may not be impossible, either,"

she said. "We must place someone in the palace itself, someone who is not well known to the King, the cardinal, or the guards."

"Then it cannot be myself," said Aramis, "for I have a slight acquaintance with certain ladies of the court. And Athos and Porthos are also too familiar. Juvin, you or your young countryman, Monsieur Chauvet, may be perfect for this role."

Mihalik felt a chill wind whispering down his neck. He wanted to tell Aramis that there was no way in h.e.l.l he'd march into the palace of King Louis XIII and begin poking around in all the corners. "I accept the a.s.signment gladly," he said. He shivered.

"Well said," cried Porthos. "And remember that we will defend you with all our abilities, though we must remain outside the palace walls. You will have our encouragement and support and good wishes.

And if you sound an alarm, we will hurry to your side as quickly as we can. All for one, and so forth."

"I will be in your debt," said Mihalik. This was just the kind of thing his beloved old mother had warned him against; Mihalik had always been too eager to go along with the crowd. He didn't want Athos, Porthos, and Aramis to think he was some sort of coward and a weakling. He didn't want to look like a chicken in front of Cheryl. The Musketeers' opinions were important to him even though, as Dr.

Waters would insist, the three swordsmen didn't really exist.

The Kids from the Future Play the Palace Aramis, through one of his connections at court, was able to secure for Mihalik a position that gave him a certain amount of liberty to investigate the royal apartments un.o.bserved. His contact, Madame de Romiers, was lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne. The lady, swept away by Mihalik's rugged good looks and charmingly odd accent, fell in love with him almost instantly. Mihalik was glad Cheryl could not know about it. Sometimes Madame de Romiers permitted herself certain liberties of a physical nature that shocked Mihalik's sensibilities, which had been formed after all, in the more inhibited and prim world of the late twentieth century. The French aristocracy of the 1600s seemed to be a lewd and licentious lot, and their behavior frequently embarra.s.sed Mihalik.

Madame de Romiers always made such conduct entertaining, however, if not entirely acceptable by Mihalik's standards of decency. "You are in danger," she whispered one evening. They had met in a place arranged in advance by Aramis. Mihalik did not know what she had said; he was staring into her lovely gray eyes, suddenly forgetful of his mission. "Please, monsieur," she said, "you are in terrible danger. I am sure that something has happened to our beloved Queen. There are spies and agents everywhere."

"But is that not usually the case?" he asked. "That is true," she admitted, "but these are not the usual spies whom I have come to recognize. There are new and strange people at work, and I wonder if even the cardinal himself is in control of them."

Rebels of the Temporary Underground, no doubt; Mihalik was sure of it. He wished that Cheryl were near enough to be consulted. He wondered if he'd have to protect the safety of the entire world, of the entire future, without help from Dr. Waters's Agency. It was a cruel and unfair baptism of fire.

Yet he felt comfortable and safe beside Madame de Romiers. It was evident that she, too, returned his feelings; although married to a wealthy wine merchant, she lived a lonely and unfulfilling life at court.

Her days were spent attending to the trivial needs of Anne of Austria, avoiding the traps and schemes of Monsieur le Cardinal, and staying out of the clutches of every lecherous n.o.bleman she chanced to meet.

She recognized in Mihalik a forthright spirit who honestly liked her, unlike the many men who, though clad in silk and brocade, concealed malignant souls beneath their rich costumes.

Each day brought new information, but Mihalik was unable to make sense of most of it. There were countless plots and counterplots: some of them were formed by courtiers to overthrow the King; some of them were directed at the cardinal; some of them seemed to be more all-inconclusive, possibly devised by the Temporary Underground to wrest control of this era from the Agency. But was that perhaps only Mihalik's imagination at work? He had no tangible evidence that the rebels were present. He did his work in the palace and hoped that Cheryl was able to interpret things correctly. Their lives depended on that.

Sometime later, Mihalik was preparing for bed in his tiny apartment in the palace, exhausted after a long day of arduous labor. Just as he had slipped into his woolen nightshirt, there came a frantic knocking on his door. "Who is it?" he called. There was no reply, but the knocking came again. Mihalik grabbed his rapier and went to the door.

He was surprised to see Madame de Romiers, who could not afford to be seen in this part of the palace. "Monsieur Chauvet," she said breathlessly, "your life is in imminent peril. Please, let me come in."

"Of course, madame," he said. He silently prayed that this was no trick of hers, a pretense to allow her the opportunity for yet more shameless body contact. He stood aside and she swept by him, her exquisite gown of satin and lace rustling so loudly, Mihalik was sure even His Eminence must hear it.

Madame de Romiers turned to him, her expression anxious and afraid. "Do you love our Queen?" she asked.

Mihalik merely nodded.

"Then you must learn of the dark secret that the Red Duke wields as a weapon, directed against the very heart of France."

"You are speaking of the Queen's twin," said Mihalik.

Madame de Romiers was astonished. Her face flushed. "How do you know of this?" she whispered.

Mihalik gave her a modest smile. "I am not what I seem," he said. He rather liked cloaking himself in a little mystery.

"I have known that from the moment we met." Her long lashes slowly covered her gray eyes, and she looked down at the floor in some emotional distress.

As much as Mihalik felt inclined to pursue their personal relationship, there were more vital matters to attend to. "You claimed that I am threatened, even now," he said. "By whom? And for what reason?"

"You are certainly more than you seem, Monsieur Chauvet, even though it is only now that my belief has been proved true. But others have not only entertained their suspicions, but also acted upon them. A creature of the cardinal's is preparing, even as we speak, to end your life this very night. We must--"

A loud, urgent rapping interrupted her. Mihalik glanced at Madame de Romiers; she shrugged, not knowing if the visitor was the a.s.sa.s.sin or a more welcome guest.

"Who is it?" called Mihalik, trying to sound unconcerned.

"Cheryl," came the reply.

"Oops," said Mihalik. He was uncomfortable, discovered by his girlfriend with the opulent Madame de Romiers in his suite; but he was relieved, as well. "I am not alone," he murmured to his sweetheart ashe opened the door.

"Who do you have in there?" asked Cheryl. She was only a little jealous. She was still dressed as a young man, though not in the uniform of the King's Musketeers. Mihalik closed the door again behind her.

"Madame de Romiers," said Mihalik, "I have the privilege of presenting to you my countryman, Monsieur Juvin."

"I have observed Monsieur Juvin on several occasions," said Madame de Romiers, "but until now I have been denied the pleasure of his acquaintance."

Cheryl accepted her hand and bowed gallantly over it. "Madame," she said, "you have been denied but little while I have learned only now how empty my life has been." Madame de Romiers smiled at this extravagant flattery.

"What you have told me, madame," said Mihalik, "you may also trust with Monsieur Juvin. We are closer than brothers."

"Then you are both in danger. You must leave the palace tonight, this very hour."

"Already?" asked Cheryl. "The crisis has come?"

"Yes, apparently," said Mihalik.

Madame de Romiers looked frightened. "Richelieu's men are everywhere. There is no safe way to transport you from the palace. We must find a way to hide your ident.i.ties from the guard." She thought for a moment. "If we were able to enter the suites belonging to the ladies attendant on the Queen--"

"Yes," said Cheryl, "that is just what I was thinking. But can we get there safely?"

Madame de Romiers shook her head. "I do not know. It is a risk that must be taken."

Cheryl nodded reluctantly. Mihalik still didn't know what stratagem had been decided. The three slipped from his quarters and began the journey to the apartments of the ladies of the court, which were two floors below and in the farthest wing of the palace. They moved quickly and quietly, but even so they were surprised by a guardsman, not more than fifty yards from their goal. "I was told to expect you," he said with a crooked leering grin.

Mihalik's rapier sang as he ripped it from its scabbard. The guardsman's smile grew wider. Mihalik waited for the guard to attack; the man was hesitant to begin the battle, but it was not for lack of courage. He was waiting for the arrival of others who would make the risking of his own blood unnecessary. Mihalik had to dispatch the man before the reinforcements arrived. The red mist floated again before his eyes; he lunged and compelled the guard to defend himself. The cardinal's man parried and riposted, and Mihalik fell back a few inches, guarding now in sixte. The guardsman drew back as well, stalling. Mihalik began a flashing attack, his blade ringing in the narrow pa.s.sageway as he sought to discover his opponent's weakness. There was no time for a slow and methodical duel. Pressed desperately by the fury of Mihalik's onslaught, the guard began to show how inadequate was his skill.

Mihalik scored once on the forearm, once through the shoulder, and yet another hit on the wrist.

The guard opened his mouth; he was going to shout for help. "Quickly!" cried Madame de Romiers.

Mihalik did not hear her plea. He captured the man's blade on his and slid by it with a falling lunge. His point slipped between the guard's ribs, and the cardinal's man fell to the carpeted floor, his call for aid stillborn on his lips.

Gasping a little from the exertion, Mihalik led the two women down the corridor. Madame de Romiers touched his arm when they reached the entrance to the ladies' apartments. "I must go first," she whispered. "Even among the Queen's ladies there are doubtlessly traitors. If no one is about, I will lead you into my suite, where we may a.s.semble a hasty costume to cloak your true selves."

Mihalik understood at last, and he wasn't pleased by the plan: he would have to escape from the palace dressed as a woman. Cheryl was in an even more implausible situation -- she would be a woman dressed as a man dressed as a woman. Well, mused Mihalik, it worked for Shakespeare's characters all the time.

It did not take long for Madame de Romiers to choose garments for them. Over her masculine attire, Cheryl put on the costly apparel of the Queen's lady-in-waiting. She abandoned her high boots andslipped her feet into a pair of Madame de Romiers's pumps. The final touch was a wig in the current fashion, blond rings and curls piled high upon the head. "You will make a charming lady," said Madame de Romiers.

"Thank you," said Cheryl. She was ill at ease, but Mihalik thought that she was probably more than a little pleased with the compliment. After a moment, Cheryl looked as if she were beginning to enjoy the masquerade.

Not so Mihalik himself. He had no idea what some of the items were, or how they operated.

Madame de Romiers alternated between amused teasing and nervous bullying. "No, not that way!" she cried. "The other way around! How did you ever get to be a King's Musketeer, knowing so little about a lady's undergarments?"

At last, however, both time travelers were dressed according to the lady's specifications. After the last perfectionist touches of makeup, Madame de Romiers stepped back to survey her accomplishment. "

Parbleu!" she cried.

"What is it?" said Mihalik anxiously. "Do you hear the guards?"

"No, no, it is not that," she said. "Look." She held up a mirror.

Mihalik saw nothing in the mirror but his painted face beneath a towering blond wig. He presented a rather attractive picture, all in all, but nothing spectacular. "What do you see?" he asked.

Madame de Romiers turned to Cheryl. "Do you agree?" she said. "Is he not a marvelous likeness of the Queen herself?"

"I am?" said Mihalik, astonished.

"He is?" said Cheryl, likewise surprised.

"Certes," said Madame de Romiers, "and I am one who should know. But there is no time for wonderment. We must make haste."

"My rapier--" said Mihalik.

"You must leave it," said the lady. "To carry it would invite disaster."

Reluctantly Mihalik agreed. They left the apartment and hurried back the way they had come. Leaving the palace, fortunately, was a simpler matter than finding a way in.

Many minutes later, at a gate used primarily by servants and tradesmen, Madame de Romiers bid them both farewell. "I may never see you again, my darling," said the Queen's lady. Cheryl moved away to give the other two a bit of privacy.

"You must not tell yourself such a thing," said Mihalik gallantly. He kissed her lightly, trying to keep his tall blond wig from b.u.mping her tall blond wig.

"Adieu, then, my hero," she whispered. Her cheek was wet with tears.

"Adieu," said Mihalik. He drew away. The beauty spot she had placed beside his nose was starting to itch like crazy.

Mihalik and Cheryl had not gone more than a hundred yards before the catastrophe occurred. To Mihalik it seemed as if the moon turned as red as a crushed tomato, and the stars began to vibrate and hum with an evil energy, and then they exploded. It was a detonation of darkness, however, and it swallowed Mihalik up and silenced his thoughts. There was no way to measure time in that total absence of light, and Mihalik floated about, not living and not dead, until there was another explosion. This one was of pain.

There was a solid chunk of agony at the back of his skull, and it beat there like a second heart. Every movement exaggerated the pain, so Mihalik tried to stay as motionless as possible. Even breathing brought tears to his eyes, and the grinding soreness claimed all his attention. It was almost an hour before he thought to wonder where he was.

Queen for a Day "h.e.l.lo?" he called.

There was no answer. The only sound was the steady drip of water somewhere close by. Mihalik's senses began to awaken and report information, little of it cheering to his fearful mind. He lay on a damp,cold stone floor. There was a litter of straw beneath him, and he was aware of the sharp ends sticking into his bare shoulders and neck. Now that he was fully conscious he realized that his head was shut up in some kind of... mask. Some kind of heavy iron mask. "Oh no," said Mihalik. "Oh, no. Oh, no."

He got to his feet, which were bare; he had kicked off Madame de Romiers's shoes at the first opportunity. He was still clothed in her layers of garments and devices, over which he wore her tightly bodiced gown of ruffed taffeta. "Guard!" he shouted. There was still no answer.

The cell was small and dark. The only light came from the smoky flickering torch that lit the corridor beyond his cell door's small grill. There was not enough room to exercise his cramped muscles. Each minute, marked by forty or fifty throbs of his aching head, pa.s.sed with vicious slowness.

Finally, after a minor eternity, a man came with a wooden bowl of food. "Where am I?" croaked Mihalik.

"Be quiet," snarled the guard. "I'm not supposed to talk with you."

"But can't you see there's been some kind of mistake?"

"I see nothing." He dropped the bowl beside Mihalik's legs. There was a shackle around one ankle, and it was chained to the stone wall.

"Why have I been arrested?"

The guard gave him a wicked grin. "You'll learn the answer to that from the cardinal himself," he said.

For some reason the man thought his words were particularly clever or funny, and left the cell laughing to himself. Mihalik called after him to no avail; there was an echoing bang as the guard slammed the door closed, a loud snap as he fastened the iron lock.