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to collect his thoughts. After ten or fifteen minutes of going back and forth like this, they finally seemed to come to some sort of agreement. Poog turned and floated back to join us, his face expressionless, businesslike. Throck cleared his throat to speak.
    “You will be granted an audience with Alia Rellapor,” he announced, sounding considerably less imposing than he had only a few moments before. “She will decide what is to be done with you.
    “But make no mistake,” he added, staring directly at me. “You will
not
be permitted to take the Prince from this castle.”

 Chapter 11  

    Throck led us back into the castle and down the vast main hallway. There were a bunch of Torgs in front of us and even more following behind. He led us up grand marble staircases and across great cavernous rooms with ceilings hundreds of feet high. He ushered us through many gateways, each one more spectacular than the last. It seemed we were being led to the very heart of the castle.
    I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked along with the others, wondering what it would be like to finally meet Alia Rellapor face to face. Would she be as scary-looking as Throck? Would she be even
scarier
? Would she punish us for attempting to rescue the Prince?
    The more questions I came up with, the less I really wanted to know the answers. Just then I pictured myself back in my bedroom. It had been so long since I’d even
thought
about home. The sudden vivid picture in my mind took me completely by surprise. I saw myself lying belly-down on the floor, my head resting on one hand, the other hand flipping lazily through a magazine. One of my favorite songs was playing on the radio. The sun was pouring in through the window, and the smell of my mom’s cooking was floating up from the kitchen. . . . 
    I’d have given anything to be back there. Anything at all. I hate to say it, but I’d have said goodbye to everyone—Spuckler, Mr. Beeba, Poog,
everyone
—and just never looked back. I was so tired and cold and hungry, I just didn’t care about anything anymore. I stared gloomily at the gray polished-stone floor and kept walking.
    Throck and his robot troops eventually took us into a large room with dark stone walls. At one end there was an enormous blackish-red curtain that stretched from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, preventing us from seeing even a glimpse of what lay beyond it. The room was lit by small flickering torches on the walls, held behind transparent domes of red-tinted glass. Against one wall stood a long wooden bench. Throck instructed us to sit down and wait. The Torgs formed a row on the other side of the room, their weaponry still carefully trained on us. Throck then disappeared behind the thick red curtain and left us there in a silence that was interrupted only by the low, steady buzzing of the Torgs.

    Whatever Throck was doing, it was taking him a long time. I glanced around and saw that everyone was looking more dejected than they had during the entire mission. Mr. Beeba had his head in his hands and was staring at his feet with an expression of utter despair. Spuckler was twiddling his thumbs and staring bitterly at the Torgs across the room. Gax was rocking very slowly from side to side, and the Prince had a strange glassy look in his eyes, as if he were wishing that he could be magically whisked off to his own sunny room somewhere. Only Poog remained unfazed. He looked very strong and stoic, as if he were preparing himself for something he’d seen coming for a very long time.
    I decided to start a conversation, thinking it might take everyone’s minds off the misery of our current
circumstances. Well, it was worth a try, anyway.
    “Prince Froptoppit,” I asked, “how was it that you got kidnapped? Did Alia Rellapor break into your bedroom and capture you or something?”
    “No . . . uh, not exactly,” the Prince replied hesitantly. “I was out in the palace gardens. Have you ever seen the