The Universe Twister by Keith Laumer, edited by Eric Flint Page A

stumbling around in the dark being beaten by large men must be some sort of punishment wish, probably arising from guilt feelings due to the Adoranne and Daphne sequences—particularly the former.
    O'Leary got to his feet, felt his way to a wall, made a circuit of the cell. There were no windows, unless they were above his reach; and just the one door, massive and unyielding. He heard a furtive scuttling. Rats, no doubt. Not a very nice place to spend the rest of his dream. He sighed, regretting again he had been too rattled to provide a few amenities before it was too late. But perhaps he could still manage something . . .
    Light, first. A candle would do. He pictured a two-inch stub lying among the litter in the far corner . . . and a match in his pocket.
    There was a thump, as though the universe had gone over a tar strip in the road. O'Leary groped among odds and ends, felt straw, small bones—and a greasy lump of wax with a stub of a wick. Aha! Now for a match. In his pocket, a small item like that could have passed unnoticed. He checked, felt the smooth cover of a match folder, pulled it out and lit up. The candle burned with a feeble yellow flame, its light confirming his first impression of the cramped cell. Well, that part couldn't be helped, but it would be wise to think carefully about his next move.
    O'Leary settled himself on the driest spot on the floor. It looked as though he were stuck here unless he could manage to regain the sanctuary of his room back at Mrs. MacGlint's house. The last two tries hadn't worked out, but then that was to be expected. After all, who could focus the Psychic Energies with someone hauling him toward a paddy-wagon or threatening to stick a foot of razor-edged steel into his internal arrangements?
    At least it was peaceful here in the cell. But going back was a last resort; he couldn't just vanish without even a chance to explain to Adoranne how he had happened to be in her bedroom with a sackful of loot.
    What could he do? If things hadn't happened so fast, he could have dreamed up some way out, some last minute rescue. Maybe it still wasn't too late. Nicodaeus, maybe; he could get him out of here. Probably he hadn't heard about his protégé's arrest yet—or, O'Leary amended, he had just heard a few minutes ago. By now he'd be coming along the hall, passing the iron-barred door, ordering guards around, demanding O'Leary's immediate release—
    There was a sound from the door. A tiny panel opened; light glared in. O'Leary jumped up as he saw the face at the opening.
    "Daphne! What are you doing here?"
    "Oh, Sir Lafayette, I knew something terrible would happen!"
    "You were right; there's dirty work afoot. Look, Daphne, I have to get out of here! I'm worried about Adoranne; whoever led me to her room—"
    "I tried to tell them, sir, but they think I'm your confederate."
    "What? Nonsense! But don't worry, Daphne, Nicodaeus will be along soon."
    "He tried, sir—but the king was furious! He said it was an open-and-shut case, that you were caught red-handed—"
    "But it was a frame-up!"
    "At least you won't have a long wait in that awful cell. It's only three hours till dawn; it comes early this time of year."
    "They're letting me out at dawn?"
    "For the execution," Daphne said sadly.
    "Whose execution?"
    "Y—yours, sir," Daphne sniffled. "I'm to get off with twenty years."
    "But—but they can't ! King Goruble needs me to kill the dragon, and—and—"
    "OK," a guard's rough voice interrupted, "you seen him, kid. Now how about that smooch?" the panel slammed with a bang. O'Leary groaned and resumed his seat. He'd not only reduced his own credit to zero, but dragged an innocent girl down with him. It looked like the end of the line—the second time in the last few hours that imminent death had stared him in the face. Some dream! What if he failed to wake up in time, and the sentence were actually carried out? He'd heard of people dreaming they were falling, and hitting, and