The Prince Commands: Being Sundry Adventures of Michael Karl, Sometime Crown Prince & Pretender to the Thrown of Morvania Read Online Free PDF Page A

chair. It stood, draped with a crimson cloak, like a throne–a bandit's throne. Black Stefan must hold almost royal state. Who was he really?
    Michael Karl was hurried across to the hearth and there motioned to seat himself on a bench. Apparently the Werewolf wasn't ready to see him. The wolfman, after tying his feet to one of the bench legs, left him and hurried out.
    “Going to report,” decided Michael Karl.
    The American at the Crown Inn interested him. Such a man, “mad as all Americans,” according to the wolfman, might be reckless enough to help him if he could once escape the wolfmen.
    He stopped thinking about the American and tried to shrug his heavy cloak farther back on his shoulders. The fire was altogether too warm. Burying his chin in the fur collar he tugged at the hooks, but, unfortunately, they held. It looked as if he must play his best card or roast to death. After all, the wolfman might believe that he had tied his prisoner too loosely.
    Rolling his thumb across his palm until his hand was hardly any larger than his wrist, he discovered that for once his small hands served him well. He started to free his hands, working by eighths of inches and losing more than a little skin in the process. With a last smarting tug the cords slipped off and he was free.
    Michael Karl rubbed his burning wrists and then hastened to unhook his collar and throw aside his cloak before unfastening his feet. As he leaned forward he felt the Cross slide across his breast. Here was hoping that he would not be searched. Should he proclaim his rank or should he pretend to be only an aide-de-camp? Any way around he would get an unpleasant greeting if the Werewolf hated the nobles as the Baron had said he did.
    The Crown Inn down the valley, with its American guest, was worth attempting. Catching up his discarded cloak he looked around the empty hall. Why not now?
    “I trust you are not leaving us?”
    Michael Karl turned slowly. On the dais stood a tall man, wolf-masked like all the rest he had seen, but, somehow different. The newcomer wore authority like a cloak; he was no common member of the pack for all his rough pelt and shaggy mask.
    Thre were whisperings and murmuring behind them, the wolf pack was filing in to join the fun.
    “Enter the villain,” announced Michael Karl clearly, still impressed by the melodrama of it all. Really it was too much like a certain movie he had once disobediently attended.
    “Just so,” agreed the masked newcomer, “only I am afraid that we might differ upon the identity of the villain. Now you, of course, have cast me for that role, while I have quite definitely selected you for the part.”
    “Of course, that is to be expected,” answered Michael Karl politely. “But then the audience,” he glanced around at the assembled pack, “are prepared to agree with you.” He wondered desperately just how long they would keep this sort of thing up.
    “You are Black Stefan?” he inquired.
    The masked leader nodded curtly.
    “And you?” Black Stefan's voice had a stern “come to business” like note in it now.
    Michael Karl wished he could see his enemy's face; fighting from behind a mask wasn't sporting: perhaps if things got too hot he would mention that fact.
    “I shall leave that answer to you. After all you can't expect me to be too helpful.”
    He fingered his cloak and measured the distance between him and the door. If he could keep this fellow talking he might have a very slim chance. Michael Karl no longer believed that the perfect life was to be found as a prisoner of the Werewolf. “Boys of your age,” commented the Werewolf, “do not usually wear the uniforms of Colonels, especially the uniform of the Commander of the Prince's Own.” Michael Karl made no answer, recognizing the Werewolf's cat and mouse game. The bandit knew who he was all right, he was just amusing himself by pretending he didn't.
    “Search him,” the Werewolf commanded suddenly.
    His cloak was