The citadel itself was built strongly, with the thick walls of a fortress, and the heavy silverwood doors—white as limed oak and hard as teak—were capable of being barred from either side. Although the Earthmen were not locked in, there was an "honor" guard in the hall outside, and Newhouse had no doubt that any idea he might have of roaming about the citadel would be politely but firmly vetoed.
The apartment that had been assigned to them was hardly comfortable by modern Terrestrial standards, though a medieval English baron would probably have been cozy enough.
"Looks like a jail, sir," said Sergeant Pemberton as he surveyed the room.
"It is," said Newhouse. "I'm afraid that freedom of the grounds isn't on our agenda." He walked over to the door that connected his and the sergeant's room with the one next to it.
"Come in, Lieutenant," said Virginia Smith.
Newhouse pushed open the heavy door. "I'm going to take a flit about the citadel, Captain," he said. "Would you and the sergeant whip up something to eat? I shouldn't be gone long."
"All right. But watch yourself. My Supremacy might be a little hard put to explain what you were doing if you got caught."
"Don't worry; I'm supposed to get an Earthman out of a jam, not get another one in. You want to give me that harness?"
"Sure. Close the door and give me two minutes."