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When he had finished Redmond was in a great flutter of excitement and happiness, and wanted to go at once and see if the sap had all drained away. Daimur put on his cap again, and having ascertained that the Magician was safe in his house, he led the way to the great laurel tree, where they could see by the light of the moon that the sap had ceased to run. The tree was drying up.
"Poor, poor fellow," said Daimur, "your plight is worse than your brother's. This is more of the Evil Magician's work." "Yes, he has enchanted me, and I am slowly dying," answered Tasmir in a weak voice. "You can see that the leaves of my tree are dropping." "What can I do to save you?" cried Daimur. "You must make a hole in the side of the tree and let the sap run out.
Daimur ran forward and attempted to raise him. "Tell me what has happened, my poor old friend," he cried, "who has done this?" "Alas, my enemy has found me," whispered the old man, "and I am dying." Then he motioned to Daimur to send the servants away from the room, as he had something he wished to tell him.
Here Daimur again dug a hole under the wall and all passed through safely, Tasmir remaining behind for a moment to fill up the gap again with sand. They went forward very quietly until they came to the steps of the Magician's castle. "Wait here," said Daimur, "while the Princess and I go inside and find the tablets."
Daimur wanted to be crowned at once too, so that he could put back all the good laws his father had made, and save his country from going to war, but his uncle begged him to wait for a couple of months.
They proceeded on their course, and in a few hours more reached the chief city of the Kingdom of Roses. Nobody made any attempt to stop their landing, so they all marched up the street, this time the Duchess leading the procession with Daimur.
He grew pale and his knees knocked together as he looked about in vain for a means of escape. Then suddenly his face cleared, and he drew a whistle from a cord at his neck and blew three loud blasts upon it. Daimur, who still wore his cap and spectacles, turned to his company. "That is to summon the Magician," he explained.
King Cyril was the first one called upon, and after Daimur had stirred up the fire he began: "I am, as most of you know, Cyril, King of the Island of Shells. "My father was a kind, gentle man, who was more interested in study than in governing his kingdom. He had only two sons, my brother Arnolde and myself, and we grew up together and were the greatest friends until I married.
One night shortly after his birthday, Daimur had gone to his apartment and was sitting at his window thinking sadly of his troubled kingdom, when suddenly his door was opened and before he could say a word a gag was thrust into his mouth, his hands and feet were tied, and he was carried quickly downstairs, out of doors and down the garden path to the sea, where he was dumped into a boat that was anchored at the little wharf there.
I would have been dead in a few hours' time had it not been for this good young man," he said, and he turned gratefully towards Daimur, who was pushing together the bark on the tree so that the slit would not be noticed.
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