Combing through the entire mansion took hours, and Fifer and Thisbe’s team didn’t work without sacrifice. Every human among them at one point or another had been frozen or scatterclipped or backward-bobbly-headed or fire-stepped by dissenters who were still putting up a fight or trying to defend themselves from the small but increasingly effective army. Fifer and Thisbe did what they could to release the spells or revive each other and continue doggedly on, despite their growing number of bruises. Always at the back of their minds, keeping them going, was the reminder that their dear friends were suffering just a simple tube ride away. If only they could get it to work.

By the time they expelled and contained what seemed to be the best hiders and last of the obstinate stragglers, they had still not found Frieda Stubbs. With the place clear, though, there was no time to waste in trying to get to the remote rooms. They’d have to take the chance of running into a surprise meeting with the dictator and hope their training was enough for the best outcome. And who even knew if she was still in the building? Chances were great that she’d abandoned ship a long time ago. No one would expect anything else.

Thisbe and Fifer found themselves together with no one left to fight. Each offered a curt nod of congratulations, then went their separate ways, still unable or unwilling to address their differences with so many other things to tend to. While Thisbe took a minute to collect herself and check in with the others, Fifer slipped outside to see how things were going there.

“We’re putting the last of them into the cage now,” said Florence. She and Simber were extracting dissenters from the rock’s mouth and making them go into the pen.

“I’ll get started on Ol’ Tater,” said Fifer. “If we get him placed just right, he can serve as a door to the pen.” She ran at the mastodon and jumped around to get his attention, then ran back toward the opening in the pen. Ol’ Tater followed as expected, trying to stomp on her. When he was nearly in the place where Fifer wanted him, she began the spell that would put him back to sleep. Simber tossed the last dissenter into the pen, then helped to position the mastodon. Fifer sang, and the statue fell into a permanent sleep right in front of the opening to the log pen, his massive hindquarters blocking anyone from leaving.

With the dust settling and everything appearing to be under control, Fifer and Florence thanked the rock and Panther. The two took their leave and returned to the jungle. Simber stayed on the lawn to watch over the pen and the grounds and search for Frieda, and the dragons joined him there to keep the restless captives from trying anything.

Fifer and Florence hurried back inside to survey the damage to the tubes and try to get them to work. There they found Thisbe already tinkering with the tube that had suffered the least amount of fire damage. Rohan and Maiven stood just outside the glass, offering to help, but when they saw Fifer and Florence approaching, they parted and moved aside.