Free Under A Velvet Cloak by Piers Anthony Page A

out and in, as it were, as she stood against the wheel of the coach. She had not had to null the invocation; the cloak repelled intrusion only where its fabric was. “You’re a nice girl,” he gasped. “Not a tease like those others.”
    “I can tease when I choose. But I might need a ride sometime.” She had long since established that the coach was authentic; it seemed the Fey had found it simpler to get a real one, rare and expensive as it was, than to maintain sufficient illusion to fake it.
    “Anytime!”
    Unfortunately the impromptu tryst mainly served to remind her of the extent to which this man, and any other man, fell short of her lover of the night. She had been spoiled for ordinary men, just as she spoiled ordinary men for other women. Perhaps it served her right, but her loin still ached.
    The third power of the cloak was to make solid substance permeable to her progress, even stone. The ditty she worked out seemed stupid, but it was the best she could
do
at the moment. “Let me jog through fog, unclog the bog.”
    Nothing seemed to happen, but she tried walking through the bed. There was no resistance; her cloaked lower portion passed through the bed as if it were, yes, a bank of fog.
    She tried the wall, and it seemed like illusion. But why wasn’t she sinking through the floor? She kneeled-and suddenly was dropping down through the floor and ground. Oops!
    She straightened her legs and came to a halt, well below ground level.
    She was entirely surrounded by rock. She felt claustrophobic. She didn’t dare null the spell, lest she be crushed by the rock. How could she get back to the surface? Her walking produced only forward motion, which didn’t solve the problem.
    She felt as if she were suffocating. She had to get out of here! But
how?
    The timelines began to blur. Jolie was already alert; now she knew her concern was justified. Kerena had gotten herself in over her head, literally, and needed help if she was not to perish here. She was running out of air; it seemed that all she had was what had accompanied her inside the enclosure of the cloak. There was not much time left.
    Jolie remembered that it had been possible to embrace the coachman while the protection spell was on, because it repulsed only where the material was. If that was the case here, how did it relate? Could the girl open the cloak and-what, be buried in solid rock? Still no
good.
    She had kneeled, and plunged, as the material made the ground below her pervious. Her feet weren’t similarly covered, so found the rock solid as usual. That meant, in turn-
    Jolie had it.
Stair steps! Lift your feet and ascend.
    Kerena responded. She lifted one foot, poked her toe forward, and found purchase at the higher level. She lifted the other and leaned forward for balance, achieving the higher level. Where the feet projected beyond the enclosure of the cloak, they found solidity. It was like climbing a hill.
    Encouraged, the girl adjusted her stepping to become more efficient. She was gasping from lack of air, but was determined to fight her way up and out. If she collapsed, Jolie would have to step back, perhaps preventing her from dropping below the ground level, but that might cause the timelines to separate. So it was better to let her get through herself, if she could.
    At last her head poked out of the ground. She panted, sucking in air, recovering. She was in a cellar, having traveled some distance from her point of entry. Fortunately no person was there to see her.
    After a time she climbed the rest of the way out, and stood on the cellar floor. Then she walked through the wall toward the Fey’s house. This had been another stiff lesson, and another mistake she would not make again. The magic of the cloak had almost killed her, because she had used it improperly.
    Meanwhile the Fey had another assignment for her. “I have my own designs,” she said seriously. “But there are villagers who once did me a favor, and I do not wish them