“Would they really harm their queen?” Gamay asked.

“It wouldn't be the first time royalty has fallen fatally out of favor. Have you forgotten Mary Queen of Scots or Anne Boleyn?”

“I get your point,” Gamay said. “What do we do now?”

“We escape. Are you ready?”

“Since all we have are the clothes on our backs, we're ready when you are,” Paul said. “But how are we going to get past that unruly crowd out there?”

“I still have a few white goddess tricks up my sleeve. Ah, good, Tessa is back.” The Indian woman had materialized as silently as a shadow. She spoke a few words in her native language to Francesca, who answered with a nod. Tessa took one of the torches flanking the throne.

Francesca said, “Dr. Paul, if you would be so kind as to help Tessa.” Trout went over and hoisted Tessa up by the waist. She was as light as a feather. Tessa tucked the torch in at an angle where the clay met the thatch. The torch had only to burn a few inches before the flame touched the ceiling. They repeated the procedure with another torch on the opposite wall.

“I don't count arson among my talents, but this crude time delay will create a distraction when we need it,” Francesca said. She looked around the throne room. “Good-bye,” she said sadly to no one in particular. “In some ways I'll miss being a queen.” She turned to Tessa, and they talked heatedly. When the discussion was ended Tessa had a satisfied look on her face. Francesca sighed heavily. “You see what's happening? My subjects are already rebelling. I ordered Tessa to stay, but she wants to go with us. We don't have time to argue further. Follow me.”

Francesca led the way along the dim passageways to her bedroom. The two woven bags on the bed explained Tessa's temporary absence. She had been packing for their escape. Francesca removed her battered aluminum suitcase from the wooden chest. It had been rigged with a strap which she threw over her shoulder. Handing one bag to Paul and the other to Gamay, Francesca said that the containers held food and supplies and “a few essentials.”

Gamay looked around the windowless room. “Where do we go from here?” The sound of drums was muffled, but the beating was more frenetic.

“We take a shower, of course,” Francesca said.

She lit a small clay lamp from the torch, went over to the shower stall, and pulled up the polished wooden floor to reveal a rectangular opening.

“There's a ladder. It's very steep. Be careful.”

She descended first so the others could climb down by lamp light. They were crowded together in a small space, standing on the gravel drain that had been used to catch water from the shower. A passage led off into the darkness.

“My apologies to you, Dr. Paul. I wasn't expecting someone as tall. We've been digging this tunnel for years, carrying the dirt out in small amounts and secretly disposing of it. This passage way runs into a covered trench I had the men build years ago for future waterworks.”