The Dragon and the Fair M

by Gordon R. Dickson

  He woke to broad daylight and a suspicion that the day must be half over.

  "Want some tea?" Angie said. "I've kept the water hot on the hob. How do you feel?"

  He looked around, found her standing by the fireplace, and became aware of the singing of the kettle on its hob—the long metal arm that allowed anything hanging on it to be swung about so it would hang over the flames, but be easily reachable.

  "Fine," he said, springing out of bed—or rather, trying to spring out of bed. He not only did not spring very well, but he wobbled on his feet with uncertain balance, once he was out.

  "You've been in bed for a while," said Angie. "You haven't got your land legs back. Take a little time."

  "No time to take time," said Jim, collapsing heavily into one of the chairs at the dining table. "Where're my clothes?"

  "Oh, we burned them all," she said.

  "Burned all my clothes?"

  Angie gurgled—something between a giggle and a chuckle.

  "No, of course not. They're already back in the wardrobe where they belong. The servant brought them all in just a little while ago—" Jim made an effort to get to his feet "—except for what I thought you might want to wear today. Those're all laid out on my side of the bed. Here, I'll get them for you."

  "Why didn't you say so, then, instead of giving me this business about burning all my clothes?"

  "I'm sorry," said Angie, carrying the clothes from her side of the bed to his, where he could reach them easily, "but after days of caring for you night and day, and sweating out your chances of living, I had to blow off a little steam, some way." She kissed his forehead. "Forgive me?"

  "I suppose so," he growled. But then he stopped putting on the shorts he had picked up first, and looked up at her from his chair. "It must have been really rough for you. I know how I'd feel if—and I haven't even said thanks!"

  "Yes, you did. You did it by living. You just didn't know it." She came and sat down on his lap. He kissed her.

  "I love you," he said.

  "I love you," she said.

  "Now what?" said Carolinus, suddenly appearing. "Ah—pardon me."

  He disappeared again.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "Carolinus is certainly taking his time before coming back. If he'd waited a second, he'd have seen for himself it was nothing more than an innocent kiss," Jim said, some half hour or so later.

  "He's certainly showing more delicacy than anyone else in this antique world," said Angie. "Anyone our rank from Brian on down would have said something like 'Hah! at it are you? Well I'll leave you to it! And any servant would have apologized all over the place, but only the same way she would if she came in when we were having an argument."

  "You're right." Jim looked toward the fireplace. "The tea. I could use another cup. How long—"

  "A minute," she said. "The water is boiling now. I'll pour…" She did so. "There! Three minutes more and we can both have another cup… It's so nice that the servants are now trained to bring us everything we like up here. What a relief to be back!"

  She bore the steaming pot to the table, two metal cups with wooden handles dangling from her little finger, and the sugar jar with spoon in it in her other hand.

  "Here you go," she said, setting all of this on the table before Jim. "The milk's in it now, but sugar it yourself, since you change about all the time."

  Jim took a cup, pouring from the teakettle, and helping himself to sugar.

  "I need strength," he announced. "Lots to do today. Are we past the noon dinner time yet?"

  "Not for about half an hour."

  "Good. The time will be the same in London. I want to talk to Chandos, no time to eat something, first—woops, I forgot. Chandos can't come. And I'm out of magic, too. If Carolinus doesn't show up in two minutes, he'll have forgotten us and I'll have to call him again."

  "He'll be glad to see how good you're looking now," said Angie. "He loves you, Jim, as if you were family—as if you were his own son."

  "Hah!" said Jim. "He's interested in me, but that's a far cry from loving anyone. Anyway, we don't have any family here—except for little Robert, who can't really be called family because he's only our ward."

  "Robert is my child as far as I'm concerned!" said Angie. "Yours, too—you just don't realize it yet. The fact he's got a different last name makes no difference at all. And you're wrong, too, about Carolinus. He was here every one of the twelve days while you were down in the Nursing Room, to see how you were, and did everything that his magick could do to make things easier for you. That opium pipe didn't come easy, you know. He does love you, Jim. He probably didn't start out that way, but he does now. Don't you know he's got the softest heart in the world?"

  "Great-great-grandson's more like it," said Jim.

  But he was remembering the continual parade coming to Carolinus for attention. Wood nymphs, sprites, other woodland Naturals, and animals from meadow mice to the ox-sized boar he had talked into letting itself be magicked into looking like a destrier as a steed for the Unknown Knight at the tournament during the Earl of Somerset's last annual Christmas party.

  "—I suppose you're right," his conscience prodded him into saying. Something else she had said registered on him. "As a matter of fact, I have a sort of a bit of memory about hearing his voice saying something like '—not supposed to work that way—' What do you think he was talking about?"

  "You weren't following the usual pattern of someone with the buboes form of plague."

  "I wasn't?"

  "No," said Angie. 'That was something any one of us in the Nursing Room would have known by a few days after you got here, but Carolinus spotted it right away. The bubonic form you had usually has buboes visible by the third day at the latest—you didn't have them full-sized until the fifth day after we got here."

  "Five days!" Jim shook his head.

  "Carolinus blamed it on your having been hit by two things at once: the plague and this rare magicians-only sickness. He said you were affected as much by your burning up an unreasonable amount of your magic—in fact, every scrap of magic you had in too short a time—and on top of that somehow pulling more out of the ether."

  "Was that it?" said Jim, deeply interested in this business of extra magic from someplace else.

  "Yes," she said. "And the double dose of making magic out of nothing on top of the fact you were already sick and ignoring that was calculated to throw you into something like a severe state of shock."

  "He didn't say any more about where the extra magic had come from?"

  "He didn't seem to know. Nor did Kinetete. They seemed to be guessing that, unconsciously or otherwise, you did what no other magician on top of the earth here has ever been known to do. Because you needed more magic and didn't have any left you started drawing on the raw, unknown magic energy that's all around us in this world, like the weather. You remember you guessed there was something like that after you got back from Lyonesse this last time? Because people like Morgan le Fay and Merlin didn't have an Accounting Office to meter out their earned magic to them?"

  "I certainly do—and so Carolinus knew about raw energy all the time and never said anything to me about it, damn his eyes!"

  "I think he said you would've been told about it. Along with a lot of other things, once you got voted in as a plain Class C magician."

  Angie sat down in the chair across the table from Jim.

  "It's not a short story," she said. "I meant to tell you in bits and pieces, if you asked, but now that I've dived into the whole thing… are you sure you want me to tell you everything now? You're not really back in full health, yet."

  "Yes, I am!" said Jim. "A little wobbly, but what's that? Pain's just about gone. Tell me everything—take your time. But come to think of it, you're worn out from taking care of me. Here, drink first—"

  "All right, if I'm not gearing you up too much. That's half your trouble. You go into overdrive, and when there's no energy left you just keep going on, on
plain will power."

  "I'm not excited. I won't get excited."

  "Hah!" said Angie, "—on both counts. But you'll pester me to death now if I don't tell you. But I'll be watching you, and if you start overdriving on me—"

  "I won't. I'm sitting still, just listening. See?"

  "Well, Carolinus tried to figure out what was happening to you. For the first two days he was in and out all the time. But he couldn't tell what was shock and what was plague. Neither he nor Kinetete could figure you out—you were unconscious nearly all that time—"

  "I don't remember anything except the bit about Carolinus saying it wasn't supposed to work that way."

  "Yes," went on Angie. "Anyway, he and Kinetete talked you over and talked it over without getting anywhere. The two best magickian minds in the world, probably, baffled. They even called in the only other A triple-plus magickian. You know him: a small fussy man, middle-aged or a little older looking, called Something Barron—two r's—or Barren Something. Carolinus and Kin just called him Barron."

  "That goop!"

  "He may be a goop, but he knows his magick," said Angie. "He was the one who suggested the shock and the plague could be working against each other as much as they were working together against you. He also said we shouldn't forget to lance your buboes to keep the pus there from going in and poisoning you. But I—we all in the Nursing Room—I mean we ordinary non-magicians—already knew that… as if we'd forget to do it for you! I told him as much. Kin and Carolinus both backed me up. He stuck his nose in the air and vanished."

  "You didn't need him any more, anyway. He hadn't said anything useful. Why do you say he 'knew his magick'?"

  "Because he did. Both Carolinus and Kinetete were really struck by his suggestion the two things were fighting each other. Carolinus said that was probably the reason you were having an easier time than the other sick ones with buboes—"

  "Easier?" exploded Jim. "Angie, if only you knew what that pain was like—"

  "Yes, dear. I didn't mean to make light of it. But I was nursing you and nursing some of the other sick ones, too, and in spite of the fact they didn't make as much noise about it as a modern person might, I could tell how the others were suffering—and they were having that part of the sickness, anyway, harder than you were. Believe me."

  With most of his pain gone now, and still alive to boot—most plague victims, he knew, died in a few days—Jim felt a twinge of shame.

  "And I was the only one with an opium pipe, too," he said.

  "Yes, my love. But you mustn't feel bad about that. Carolinus just couldn't get any more and none of the staff who had sickened begrudged your having it. They all believe God had sent the sickness to them for their sins, and they were all sure they must be much worse sinners than you were. Besides, you were the lord."

  "Of course," said Jim bitterly. "It's always that—"

  Carolinus chose this moment to appear again. He cleared his throat.

  "Intruded, didn't I?" he said. "My apologies. I'd become used to finding you sick and in bed, Jim."

  "Of course," said Jim. "No apologies required. But what did you mean, saying 'What now?' just before you thought—just before you disappeared again?"

  "You were going to call me."

  "How'd you know?"

  "I knew. That's sufficient for you to understand. I was busy at the moment and—well, why were you about to call me?"

  "Hob reminded me of something. Goblins can't stand the touch of cold iron—"

  "Teach your grandmother to suck eggs! What of it?"

  "He asked me why the King didn't send for a force of knights in armor to defeat these goblins and get rid of them. In full armor they would be almost covered by cold iron, and maybe armor would stop the goblin spears, while the horses, being animals and immune to magic—"

  Carolinus held up a hand.

  "He's already tried that."

  "Already?" said Jim. 'Then a royal force's coming?"

  "Not at all!" snapped Carolinus. "As I say, I've been very busy—"

  Jim saw his opportunity to hold up a hand in turn. "I know. You've been spending a lot of time seeing me through this bout of plague. Thank you."

  "Merely one of many concerns. As I was about to say—it's been done. Kinetete took a letter from the Collegiate to the King and he dictated a letter to Cumberland in London, telling him what had happened and asking him to send a force in armor to drive off the goblins—also hinting at the falsity of Cumberland's suggestion of Tiverton as a safe place against plague—"

  "Oh, yes!" said Jim. "Come to think of it, did I ever get a chance to tell you—Verweather—"

  "James," said Carolinus, "I do not mean to be severe, but sometimes you worry me with this endless string of interruptions you seem to think you have a right to make. Don't you remember I already knew that? Once and for all, you will wait until I have said my last word on what I am telling you. Is that understood?"

  "I might point out, Mage Carolinus," said Jim, becoming heated in his turn, "that you started interrupting me—"

  "A Master-in-Magick may do so to his apprentice. But not the apprentice to the Master. Of course. Now, as I was saying, since I was so busy and no one can get in or out of your castle right now except a qualified magickian, Kin took the letter to Cumberland, who, as the King's Chamberlain, was the one to act on it."

  Carolinus paused.

  "And?" Jim prompted.

  "And of course Cumberland promised to get together an armored force—as soon as man and God could make it possible."

  "Good. Then relief's on its way!" said Jim.

  "You are a babe in politics, Jim. No such force will appear here until too late to do any good. It will turn out to take longer to put it together than Cumberland's best will can seem to make it. That was obvious to Kin, immediately."

  Carolinus paused again—clearly, Jim thought, daring Jim to try interrupting.

  "And so?" Jim said, after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "What happened then?"

  "She pointed out to Cumberland that the Collegiate of Magickians, and of course all England, were concerned with preserving the King's life. He has been a good King, except for the extra taxes Cumberland pushed him into—"

  "What reason did he give for doing that?" asked Jim, forgetting, sidetracked and intrigued in spite of himself. Carolinus glared at him.

  "Jim, this is your last warning!" he said. "Just to begin with, you can do without explanations, if you interrupt again."

  "Fine. Fine—I won't," said Jim hastily.

  "Well, then, if you must be told: Cumberland told the King the treasury was low and the crown needed funds.—Where was I? Kin knew of course Cumberland would see no help came in time. Forcefully—and that worn—Mage can be forceful if she wishes to—she hinted that the Collegiate might make sure this eruption of the goblins could be traced to Cumberland's faults. Possibly, no more than that would be needed. Even the other magnates—the great lords that do not personally favor the King—do not want to see the King dead until young Edward is really ready for the throne. Especially when they know that, mainly because of Cumberland's own efforts to blacken the heir's reputation, there would be no strong, experienced hand to replace him—"

  Pause.

  "That produced no change of heart in Cumberland. He only grinned at Kin and repeated his worthless promise. Kin thinks he relies too much on what little Agatha Falon has of witchery. In any case, he cannot have any idea what the world's Magickians can do to him if we act as a united group."

  "What, for instance?" ventured Jim.

  "None of your apprentice business!" Carolinus snapped. "You can make up your own mind about such things if and when you ever get voted in—which is far from certain. Kin, for one, thinks she may vote against you."

  "But I thought she liked me!"

  "She does. Heaven itself know why. But her voting's no business of yours either."

  "Would you vote for me?"

  "A fine matter it would look if I v
oted against the very apprentice I was proposing for membership!"

  "Well, anyway, that's beside the point right now," said Jim. "If Cumberland's not going to help, how's the King—to say nothing of the rest of us—going to escape the goblins? Wait a second. You could just magically take him somewhere else. Somewhere safe."

  "I can't take him anywhere unless he personally asks me to. I've told you he's Destined—because he is a king. Will he ask me?"

  Jim hesitated.

  "I don't think so," he said, at last. "I don't think he'd ask anybody for anything."

  "Neither do I," said Carolinus, "and I know him better than you do. Order, but not ask. He lives to be a king, and he'd die rather than ask help of an inferior—inferior, meaning anyone in England or elswhere in the world."

  Jim nodded slowly.

  "Besides," went on Carolinus, "what about the rest of you? Don't tell me to take the castle and everyone in it to safety. I don't have that much magick, and the Collegiate isn't going to help me out in something like that."

  Jim nodded again, unhappily.

  "Well," said Carolinus, "haven't you any ideas, yourself, lad? You usually have more than are good for you!"

  "Hah!" said Jim. "But as a matter of fact, I do have an idea or two. However, how much magic are you going to be willing to lend me to spend on what I suggest?"

  "Whatever's necessary—to save the King. I can draw on the resources of every Magickian in the Collegiate, if I deem it necessary."

  "That's good," said Jim. "Because this may cost more than the most you can imagine. By the way, wouldn't you like to sit down?"

  "I would not. I'm not like all those who want to rest every moment they can. Besides I think better on my feet."

  "Let me suggest you sit down, anyway—as a favor to me. This may take some time to explain, and I can explain better if I can talk to you on a level."

  "You could stand up yourself!"

  Jim took hold of the edge of the table before him and pulled himself wobble-leggedly to his feet.