The Dragon At War

by Gordon R. Dickson

  "You!" he said, facing him. "Get up, go back and unlock those leg irons from those two prisoners! Wait! Are there any other prisoners in here?"

  When the man did not answer, Jim remembered he was under hypnosis and needed to be commanded.

  "Nod or shake your head to answer that question of mine. Are there any people in the other dungeons?"

  The warder shook his head.

  "All right! Come on, then!" Jim said. "Stand up, turn around, go back and unlock the leg irons."

  The warder obeyed. The leg irons squeaked open between his hands, once he had unlocked them. Jim had been full of the intent of throwing the warder down into the same dungeon Brian and Giles had come out of; but thought better of it. It was not unreasonable to give the warder a taste of what he handed out all the time; but a sense of humanity held Jim back. It would not help any of those who had been confined in the dungeons before if the warder was shoved into one now. Besides, he was only a servant, after all, probably told to do this job simply because his arms were strong.

  He had just finished thinking this as Brian and Giles had kicked their legs free of the irons, when he saw that Dafydd and Secoh were about to do what he himself had just thought of.

  "No! Wait!" said Jim. "We don't want him in the dungeon, as much as he deserves it, maybe. We want him sitting here, forgetting we were ever here, and with a false memory of their being taken away on somebody's orders."

  He spoke just in time to save the warder from going head first into the mixed dirt and ordure that carpeted the dungeon below.

  "Go back to your table and sit down there again," Jim ordered the man.

  He obeyed.

  It took a few moments to bring Giles and Brian up to date on what was going on. This was slowed down a little bit, because the two had, immediately they were free, made a dash for the table where the warder was; and Brian snatched up one of the bottles of wine, Giles snatched up the other.

  Unfortunately, the one Giles had snatched up turned out to be empty. Seeing this, Brian, with obvious regret pulled the—originally—nearly full bottle he himself was holding from his lips. He handed it, with what was still left in it now, to Giles. Giles poured it down his throat.

  "By Saint Dunstan, I have a thirst that could drain a keg!" said Brian.

  It was only now that Brian spoke again that Jim realized both men had very hoarse voices, clearly from the dryness of their throats.

  "Put the bottles back where you found them, if you will," said Jim. "I'm going to replace everything the way it was and leave the warder with a false memory of you being taken out at somebody's orders."

  He went back to the servant, still standing waiting at the foot of the stairs.

  "Listen to me now," he said to the servant, "nod your head if you understand me."

  The servant nodded.

  "You're to go up to the warder and tell him you have the King's orders to bring the two prisoners immediately to his royal majesty."

  The servant walked forward to the warder and spoke the words Jim had given him to the other hypnotized man.

  "Now," said Jim to the warder, "you have just gone and gotten the prisoners out of their dungeon and taken off their leg irons because you were told they were to be taken to the King, and he does not want them recognized as prisoners."

  To himself, Jim made a mental note to do something about the smell that Giles and Brian now carried with them. They stank almost as badly as the dungeons from which they had come.

  "You'll continue to sit at this table," Jim went on to the warder. "You will not move, you will not send or signal for more wine. You will remember nothing but the servant coming, telling you, and taking away the prisoners. You will forget me, and anyone else you saw with me. After we leave, you will do nothing until whoever is due to relieve you comes down to take charge here. Do you understand? Nod if you do."

  The warder nodded.

  Jim turned away from the man.

  "Brian and Giles," he said, "stand still a moment. I've got to do something about the way you smell."

  He struggled a little bit with the form of the incantation he wanted and then came out with it, writing it on the inside of his forehead, silently.

  DUNGEONS ODORS ON BRIAN AND GILES → GONE

  "All right," he said.

  "They don't stink anymore!" said Secoh wonderingly.

  None of the others bothered to comment on the fact.

  Jim handed Brian and Giles each one of the two extra twigs he carried.

  "Here," he said, "fasten these to you so anyone can see them. You're going to be invisible as we were when we attacked the French King last year."

  Giles and Brian, who had been busy putting on the chain mail shirts, helms and weapons Secoh had been carrying for them, winked out of sight also.

  "Good," said Jim, putting his twig back in view. "Dafydd, Secoh, put your twigs back."

  "Now," he went on to the servant, "conduct us to the royal quarters. If there's a secret entrance to the King's private chamber, and you know about it, take us in that way."

  Not merely kings, but people of any rank enough to own a large enough establishment to have private entrances and secret passages, had a tendency to find a use for such secret ways to their own private quarters. Jim was fairly certain that King Jean of France would be no different.

  "Now," went on Jim to the servant, when they reached the corridor above, "lead the way to the King's private quarters."

  They went along the upper halls again. Jim was feeling remarkably elated over the success of his use of hypnotism. Whether it was supplemented by magic or not, the sorcerer should not be able to sense it being used close to him. On the other hand, it was turning out almost too successful. He was a very amateur hypnotist, after all, having learned it second hand from an unsavory character named Grottwold, whom Angie had worked for in the twentieth century. He crossed his fingers against it backfiring, somehow.

  He wished he knew how much the magic he controlled was helping it out.

  But there was no way of measuring that, that he could think of. But even worrying about it had given him a further idea. There was one other thing he had been shown about hypnotism by Grottwold, that he had almost forgotten.

  "Stop," he said to the servant.

  The servant stopped. Jim walked around to face him. "Do you know where I can find parchment, pen and ink?" he asked. "Close by, if possible. The King must have need for a secretary to write his letters for him occasionally."

  The servant neither spoke nor moved.

  "Nod your head if you understand," repeated Jim for what seemed the thousandth time, impatiently.

  The servant nodded.

  "All right, lead us to that, first," said Jim.

  The servant turned and led them back down the corridor they had come. Almost immediately they were at a door, which he opened and walked into. Too late, it occurred to Jim that there might well be other people in there; scribes, busily writing. Then, with relief, he realized that the room was empty. There was a high desk, at which the writer stood. It had a slanting top with a flat ledge along its top side. On the ledge was an ink well, a quill pen, and some carefully stacked sheets of parchment.

  "Stay here, until I need you again," said Jim to the servant and walked hastily to the desk.

  "I'm just going to try something," he said to Brian, Giles and Secoh, who had followed him to the desk and were peering over his shoulder at what he was doing. "I'm going to draw something that hypnotizes some people, but not all. It's impossible to tell who'll be affected and who won't. We could at least try it out on Ecotti, if we can manage to get him to look at it without suspicion."

  He glanced up from the desk to see that both Brian and Giles had quickly averted their gaze from the piece of paper. Dafydd was still watching, as was Secoh, his eyes alight with curiosity.

  Jim continued. He traced a large spiral in smaller and smaller circles at the top of a sheet of parchment. He did not lift the point of his pen from th
e paper except to re-ink it, continuing the diminishing spiral until it was less than half as wide across as its top and there was a good deal of the parchment left untouched.

  Then he stopped, and started drawing another spiral inside the lower loops of the first one he had drawn, the line running between two of the lines of the larger upper spiral until he went beyond the end of the original helix and continued on down until he once more broke off at about half the width at which the second spiral had begun. Carefully re-inking his pen, he began a third spiral within the last lines of the second, and continued in this manner down to nearly the bottom of the page; where, by that time, the spiral had shrunk to a dot. He then went back and added a few other strange lines and swirls to the drawing.

  He put the pen back where he'd found it and turned to his friends. Brian and Giles were still determinedly keeping their eyes averted from the paper. Dafydd was still looking at it, as was Secoh. Jim gazed at them for a second before he realized that both Dafydd and Secoh were still staring; not at where he now was, but where he had stood at the desk.

  "Dafydd," he said softly to the tall bowman, and then turned his head a little to speak to Secoh. "Secoh! Secoh, Dafydd—wake up."

  The eyes of both shifted from the table to him.

  "What did you say, m'Lord?" asked Secoh. "I was so busy watching you draw that I wasn't listening."

  "I said, wake up," said Jim. He smiled at both of them. After a second, Dafydd smiled back. Secoh looked bewildered.

  "Indeed, I have learned a thing," said Dafydd, looking meaningfully at Jim. "I will not lightly listen to your warnings in the future, James."

  "It's just random," said Jim. "As I say, some people it affects, others it doesn't. It doesn't mean anything that you were affected. The reason I made it for Ecotti to look at is that I want to get his attention fixed on something. Until I can move in on him with my own magic, that is; before he can use his."

  Carrying the paper, he led the way back to the servant who had been standing by the door all this time.

  "All right, now," he told the man, "take us first to Ecotti's room."

  It took only a few moments before they were there. Outside the door the servant stopped and Jim whispered further orders in his ear.

  "Take this," he said, handing the servant the parchment on which the helixes were drawn. "If the sorcerer is still asleep, you have my permission to wake him. When he wakes, hand him this parchment and say it was sent by the King's order for him to look at immediately. Nod if you understand."

  The servant nodded, turned and went in through the door. He was starting to close it behind him, but Jim stuck the toe of a shoe in the way, so that they were able to see what went on within.

  Ecotti was still asleep, his covers pulled up tight under his chin, and his snoring steady.

  "M'Lord… m'Lord…" The servant repeated himself several times, speaking at first softly close to Ecotti's ear, and when he got no answer he ventured to touch the sorcerer through the coverlets on his nearest shoulder with fingertips only, and prod him gently.

  Ecotti's snoring choked off, tried to start again, broke once more and his eyes opened wearily.

  "Wha-what?" he said thickly.

  "By the King's orders," said the servant, holding the parchment out for him, "you are asked to look at this immediately, m'Lord. Forgive me for waking you."

  "Wha's—" Ecotti struggled upward in the bed so he was sitting against the headboard. He produced a hand from under the covers and took the parchment. "Look at this, you say?"

  The servant, still under hypnosis, said nothing, but merely stood there. Ecotti seemed not to notice. He was trying to focus on what Jim had drawn on the paper. His eyes were becoming brighter and more awake all the time.

  "What is this?" exclaimed Ecotti, finally, in a thoroughly awake voice. He threw back the covers with his other hand and swung his legs out—rather ugly, thin legs covered with black hair as far as they were exposed, with bare feet dangling at the end of them.

  He was uncovered almost from the knee down; and it seemed to Jim most likely that while Ecotti might wear a nightcap like Carolinus, he tended more toward the fourteenth-century custom of sleeping naked. Ecotti glanced at the servant.

  "Go on!" he exploded. "Get out of here! I'll take this up with the King myself!"

  The servant obediently turned, went to the door, passed through it and closed it behind him.

  Failure, thought Jim. It would have to be that Ecotti was one of those who were not fixated by the drawing.

  "He'll probably go direct to the King," Jim said to his three friends. "We'd better go as quickly as we can to the King ourselves—but by another route."

  "You!"

  He was once more addressing the servant.

  "Take us by that secret route to the King's private quarters, as quickly and quietly as you can."

  The servant turned and led off. He took them only a small distance farther down the corridor that had led to Ecotti's room, and into a little alcove with a couple of chairs. There seemed to be nothing else there. But he touched one of the panels at the back of the alcove and slid it aside. He stood aside to let them enter, then followed after them. The panel closed behind them and they were in pitch darkness.

  Jim heard the servant coming up past him, and caught hold of his livery as he went by.

  "Hold on to me, hold on to each other," he said to the other four. He felt a hand take hold of his belt behind, and then they were all proceeding down the lightless passage with the servant leading.

  Whether the servant knew his way so well he did not need light, or whether he was finding his way by touch on the walls that kept close on either side of them, Jim did not know. At any rate, it could not have been more than fifteen or twenty feet before he stopped. Another panel slid open before them and they stepped into a room beautifully and ornately furnished, but unoccupied.

  It was clearly a sort of sitting room. The servant made no move to go farther. There were two further doors in the room.

  "Where do we go from here to find the King?" asked Jim of him.

  The servant did not answer.

  "Point, if you can't describe it," said Jim.

  The servant pointed at one of two doors in the room. The one he indicated was on his left.

  Jim headed over to it, feeling the hand of whoever had held him letting go, but never doubting that the other four were following. He reached the door and pressed his ear against it. Vaguely, he heard a couple of male voices in conversation beyond it.

  He reached down to the latch of the door and made an effort to ease it open, without noise. It turned quite easily and silently—possibly it was even designed and lubricated to do so. He opened the door a crack and peered through to see the furniture of what was evidently a bedroom. He opened it a little more and saw not only Ecotti, but King Jean himself. It was indeed the French King Jim had seen at the battle between the French and English forces that he had been able to stop by blackmailing the French dragons into flying in false threat above the battlefield.

  It was not likely that Jim would forget this short, rather stout, but pleasant-looking man, who now stood with his short, gray hair tousled and a robe of green hastily pulled over him, listening to Ecotti now dressed in hose and short robe, who was talking and waving his hands—one of which held the paper Jim had drawn on firmly in its grip.

  Jim hastily drew back from the door. Brian, Dafydd and Secoh, who had been peering through the crack with him, surrounded him.

  "They are but two to our four, James," whispered Brian in Jim's ear. "The King of France is a gentleman, and therefore a man of weapons, though I doubt of great skill. The other is nothing in the matter of weapons; and if he is a sorcerer and versed in magic, why, you are a magician and versed in magic, also. Moreover, we must go in, in any case, must we not?"

  "I'm afraid we must," Jim whispered back. "But it's not that simple. When we go in, whatever happens will be decided not by strength or skill or arms but by
magic. And the trouble is, Ecotti's magic is not like mine, as Carolinus pointed out to me. His is built for attack. Mine is built for defense only. For defense to overwhelm attack, we need special conditions."

  "I could put an arrow through Ecotti through that sliver of open door there from here," said Dafydd.

  Jim felt uncomfortable at the thought. It was good, pragmatic fourteenth-century thinking to shoot down an unarmed enemy without warning, if that was the safest way of dealing with him. But it was something that all his particular twentieth-century training was against.

  "We don't want to kill Ecotti, until we find out what he can tell us. Remember what Carolinus told us?" asked Jim.

  "True," said Brian. "Dafydd, you remember. There is someone of great power, whom it is our first duty to find; and it may be that this Ecotti knows who he is and where we may find him."

  "You are right, Sir Brian," said Dafydd. He turned to Jim. "Then, m'Lord, what is your counsel?"

  He looked at Jim. Jim shook his head.

  "Let me think a moment," he said.

  His mind was still racing along with the idea of somehow distracting Ecotti's attention so that he could not bring his magic into play until Jim had brought his. The drawing had been a failure. For Jim to try to use his magic from out here was too risky. Surely, this close and with Ecotti wide awake, he would be likely to sense any use of magic in an adjoining room; even if the door was not slightly ajar between the rooms. And one kind of hypnosis didn't work on him.

  He frowned thoughtfully.

  "… de l'audace," he murmured, "encore de l'audace, toujours de l'audace ..."

  He did not know what had brought up his memory of the words of Georges-Jacques Danton, one of the makers of the eighteenth-century French Revolution; unless it was that they were all at the moment in France, even if a much different and earlier France of the fourteenth century.

  "Pardon me," said Secoh timidly, "but are you making another spell, m'Lord?"

  Of course, thought Jim. The words he had just said would be so much nonsense to his friends—here where everybody, including some animals and sea life, spoke the same language—which was certainly not Jim's French.