She flashed upward toward him around the last curve in the stairway. Straight to his outstretched arms she went.
“It is done! It is done!” she whispered.
“Tell us!” cried first one girl and then others.
Naida drew away from Kirby at last.
“I told the Duca,” she said to all of them, “that our leader would keep the cylinder for a period of time equal to one upper-world year. If the Duca grants all the terms of peace which we will ask of him, and if he accepts the upper-world man as our temporal ruler, and all goes well for a year, then we will consider replacing the cylinder where it belongs.”
“And what,” Kirby asked exultantly, “does the Duca say?”
Suddenly, without warning, Naida dropped before him on one knee, and from that position gazed up at him laughing.
“He says he will make you our King, to govern all temporal affairs within our realm! He is waiting for you to come and hold a conclave now.”
“What?”
Still kneeling half in fun, half in sincere reverence, Naida held out the precious, potent cylinder of gold.