"There is a difference," she murmured. "We pile the bricks, stand on them, and push the whole grate up. It's not anchored; I checked that when they brought us in here. Gravity holds it down. It's heavy, but you're strong--"
Bink looked up with sudden hope. "You could prop it up after I heave. Step by step, until-"
"Not so loud!" she whispered fiercely. "They may still be eavesdropping." But she nodded. "You've got the idea. It's not a sure thing but it's worth a try. And we'll have to make a raid on the store of elixir, so he can't use it even if someone else comes out to tell him where the Shieldstone is. I've been working it all out."
Bink smiled. He was beginning to like her.
At night they piled up the bricks. Some crumbled, for the scant sunlight had not been sufficient to bake them properly, but on the whole they were surprisingly sturdy. Bink listened carefully for the guards, waiting until they took what they called a "break." Then he stepped to the top of the brick pile, braced his hands against the edge of the grate and shoved.
As his muscles tightened, he suddenly realized that this was Fanchon's real reason for demanding the privacy curtain of the privy. It had not been to hide her unsightly anatomy, but to hide the bricks-so they would be preserved for this moment, this effort to escape. And he had never caught on.
The revelation gave him strength. He shoved hard-and the grate rose with surprising ease. Fanchon scrambled up beside him and jammed the privy pot under the lifted edge.
Ugh! Maybe some year someone would develop a pot that smelled of roses!
But it did the job. It supported the grate as he eased off. Now there was room to scramble out. Bink gave her a boost, then hauled himself up. No guards saw them. They were free.
"The elixir is on that ship," Fanchon whispered, pointing into the darkness.
"How do you know that?" Bink asked.
"We passed it on our way to the-transformation. It's the only thing that would be guarded so carefully. And you can see the catapult aboard it."
She had certainly kept her eyes open. Ugly she might be, but she was smart He hadn't thought to survey the premises with such an analytic eye!
"Now, getting that elixir will be a problem," she continued. "I think we'd better take the whole ship. Can you sail?"
"I've never been on anything bigger than a rowboat in my life, except maybe Iris's yacht, and that wasn't real. I'd probably get seasick."
"Me too," she agreed. "We're landlubbers. Sa they'll never look for us there. Come on."
Well, it was better than being changed into a cockatrice.
They crept down to the beach and entered the water. Bink looked back nervously--and saw a light moving toward the pit. "Hurry!" he whispered. "We forgot to put the grate back down; they'll know we're gone right away."
At least they were both reasonably good swimmers. They shed their clothing-what had happened to it during the transformations? Again, no explaining the details of magic-and stroked silently for the sailboat moored a quarter mile out. Bink was alarmed by the dark depths of the water beneath him; what type of monsters dwelled in Mundane seas?
The water was not cold, and the exertion of swimming helped warm him; but gradually Bink tired and felt chilled. Fanchon suffered similarly. The ship had not seemed far, viewed from land--but that had been walking distance. Swimming distance was quite another matter.
Then the hue and cry commenced back at the prison pit. Lights flared everywhere, moving around like fire-flies--but setting no fires. Bink had an infusion of new strength. "We've got to get there fast," he gasped.
Fanchon didn't answer. She was too busy swimming.
The swim was interminable. It drained strength from Bink, making him become more pessimistic. But at last they came up to the ship. A sailor was standing on the deck, a silhouette in the light of the moon, peering at the shore.
Fanchon drew close to Bink. "You go-other side," she gasped. "I-distract."
She had guts. The sailor might put an arrow in her. But Bink stroked laboriously around the keel, moving to the far side. The ship was about forty feet long, large by Xanth standards. But if any part of what Trent had said about Mundania was true, there were much larger ships there.
He reached up and put his fingers on the edge of the hull. He tried to think of the name of this portion of a ship's anatomy, but could not. He hoped there weren't other sailors watching. He had to haul himself up slowly over the gunwale-that was the name- as not to rock the boat.
Now Fanchon, with superlative timing, made a clamor, as of someone drowning. The sailors went to the rail-four of them in all-and Bink heaved himself up as silently as he could. He scraped, for his muscles felt leaden, unresponsive. His wet body slapped against the deck, and the ship tilted back a bit under his weight--but the sailors stood riveted to the other side, watching the show.
