by Unknown
Adele quickly shook her head to dispel the vision.
When she rose to empty her trash basket a second time, she heard the pile avalanche across the doorway. No wonder it wasn't any smaller. Now one long arm of clutter reached toward the table while bits of paper fluttered across her bare floor. With a sigh she bent and picked up a receipt for a room full of straw and a spinning wheel.
Thankfully the fire was unknotting her old muscles. She moved almost as freely as a young girl.
Another avalanche, and the pile of paper and trinkets crossed half the room. Just beyond the threshold, a baked clay cup lay in a nest of old envelopes. Its plainness was belied by the foreign words carved beneath the lip, and the shining fingerprints pressed into the sides.
Suddenly angry, she kicked the clutter pile. Of all the stupid stunts Himself had pulled, this was the worst. Years he had spent on that bloody sacred quest, and the cup had been in his study the whole time! Well, she would show him. She would take the cup, put it on her counter, and present it to him the next time he complained. It was his clutter, not hers, which was making their life miserable. But when she was two steps from the door the pile slumped backwards, pulling the cup from her reach. Too angry to stop her foot nearly touched the threshold –
– a sharp crack sounded behind her.
Several musical pings followed, the barest of tunes. Adele turned slowly, and watched as pearl shards fell from the bowl. Tiny yellow wings flapped wetly, and a scaled amethyst head peeked over the rim. Yellow eyes blinked at her.
The egg had hatched a dragon.
It swung its head around to examine the room, then stopped at the fire. For a moment it stared at the flickering flames, then uncurled from the bowl and whipped across the table.
"No!" Adele jumped for the dragon but it was faster, and with little splutting sounds it crossed the floor and dived into the flames. She felt her heart catch, but then the little creature settled itself on a burning log and gazed out at her, content.
Flames within, flames without. It was happy in the fire.
But how had it hatched from a rotten egg?
She picked up the egg shell, as white as clean sand, and suddenly noticed two things. Her fingers curled around it without any pain or stiffness, and they were as straight as a young girl's. And the wizard's dirty spoon, which she had accidentally set the stone bowl on, now gleamed gold.
This was The Stone. It had also been in the wizard's clutter pile for years.
She glared at the mound of paper, and realized it was moving with a purpose. It slid across the floor as the arm rippled toward the table, toward the stone. Trying to take back the thing which had given it life.
She snatched up the bowl, then grabbed her broom with her free hand and swept it across the arm. Papers scattered, flying up as if caught in a whirlwind, then returned to the arm. Other loose papers rose from every surface and joined it, until the monster grew three legs and a thick torso.
She tried to sweep it into the fireplace. Some of the papers lit, catching the interest of the dragon, but others returned to the monster and formed two long whips. One wrapped around her broom, the other reached for her bowl. She dropped the one and grabbed the other to her chest, kicking a paper leg as she did so. But other than a few scattered letters, the blow did no good.
Splut, splut. The baby dragon, now out of the fire, caught the letters and blew sparks on them. It watched in fascination as they smoldered.
The front door, could she make it? She took a step but the monster flowed in front of her. She was pushed back to the sink, back to the corner where it could trap her, back to where her cast iron skillet was within reach. She whacked it hard across the monster's torso, sending papers flying.
Splut, whuff. Splut, whuff. Now the baby dragon was firing the papers in mid-air, and jumping on the flames when they fell. How much longer before the house caught on fire?
Could she fend off the paper monster even that long? She swung again, knocked out more papers, and saw with satisfaction that it was shrinking.
The door blew open, sending eddies through the paper-strewn wind. Himself stood there, mouth and eyes open at the sight. "Woman!" he finally bellowed. "What are you doing?"
The dragon noticed him. Splut, splut, whuff.
The wizard yelled as he beat out the flames on his robe, and the dragon darted back.
"Trying to clean up your mess!" she shouted and swung again. By now the baby dragon was occupied with the wizard's robes and the papers blew back, unharmed.
"My mess!" he retorted. "Why do you say my mess?"
"It crawled out of your study! Do something!"
"Did you enter my private sanctum? Did you break the ward of containment?"
"No! Now do something!" She knocked the head from the monster, and watched it reform.
"Oh, very well," he sighed, lifting his staff. "I banish you to..."
The paper monster split itself in half, revealing the clay cup inside.
Arching his eyebrows in surprise, the wizard stopped his spell and reached forward.
Instantly an arm of paper whipped from the torso and snatched away the staff. Himself blinked in surprise, and looked at his empty hand. "Perhaps that's where things have been disappearing to."
"I imagine so!" Adele fought furiously, but realized she was getting wedged tighter and tighter into her corner. The baby dragon had at least returned his attention to the paper monster, but was only watching in a thoughtful, crafty way. "Help me!"
The wizard scratched his beard. "I could summon the guild, they might have some ideas."
"I need help now!" She glared at him.
In that brief pause, the paper monster grabbed the frying pan and swallowed it. Another arm curled around her, and all she could do was kick and thrash. Already a second arm was reaching for her bowl. If it was this strong without the stone, what could it do in possession of it and loose from the study? One kick in the center, probably futile, sprayed out papers.
Splut, splut, whuff!
One of the monster's legs burst into flame. The squat head shifted to look down at the flickering tongues that danced from one curling, blackened edge to the next yellowed sheet. The arms beat at the flames, and caught fire themselves. Popping embers sent sparks higher into the body, seeding more fires, while a sheet of flame roared up one side.
As it listed to its weak side, its mouth gaped wide and smoke poured out.
Trinkets and coins dropped from the crimson-flecked ash, then larger objects: stoppered bottles, ash-trays, and an assortment of long-lost lunch plates. The frying pan, red with heat, dropped at Adele's foot and scorched the floor.
As the flaming leg gave way and the monster collapsed into the fire, the wizard's staff rolled away, smoking slightly. He picked it up, saying, "I'll take care of this."
He promptly dropped the staff and sucked at his fingers.
Adele threw him a hotpad.
But the bonfire was already dying down, leaving a circle of burned floor, a mystical cup sitting on a hill of fine ash, and a very disappointed dragon.
"Quite a mess it made," the wizard said, dispelling the last of the embers. "I wonder how it managed to come alive?"
Adele held up the stone. "Perhaps you dropped this into your clutter pile?"
He looked hard at it, then shrugged. "It's possible. Everything else seems to have collected there. I'll take that now."
"I don't think so." It was hers, by right of discovery – and battle. "I'll hold onto it from now on."
* * * *
Adele smiled as she swept out the crumbs and the dust. Her house was now neat. The door to the study was finally closed, and all of the wizard's little piles of paper were gone. The pots hung smartly from each of a row of nails she'd hammered in herself. The windows were clean and bright, and everything was in place. It was so good to have youthful energy again!
And Sparks, bathing in his customary place on a log in the fireplace, was an enormous help.
Himse
lf walked in, golden-haired and young, with papers in his hand. "I'll be in my study," he announced as he dropped them on the table.
Splut. Sparks jumped from the fireplace and climbed a chair to eye the papers.
"Is there anything important in that?" Adele asked innocently.
Himself wrinkled his brow. " Just one, I think."
Splut. Sparks jumped on the table.
With a sudden cry the wizard grabbed his papers and ran for his study.
Adele smiled at the dragon. "Good boy," she said, and crumpled an old receipt for him to flame.
Sceptre of the Ungodly
by Elisabeth Waters and Michael Spence
Although this is the sixth story in the Treasures series, we're sort of circling back to where I began in SWORD AND SORCERESS 14. Alyssa has been Guardian of the anti-Treasure called The Blade of Unmaking for centuries now, which makes her the logical mentor for the next unfortunate soul destined to guard an anti-Treasure. Unlike a positive Treasure, such as the Grail, which chooses a Guardian and keeps him or her for as long as possible, an anti-Treasure is perfectly happy to change Guardians frequently—preferably with as much attendant chaos as possible. So the fact that Alyssa is still with us is no credit to the Blade, but to time spent under the world-centering influence of the Grail. But if she ever thought this would bring her life stability, she gave up that idea long, long ago.
Captivated by the Blade (fortunately not literally) back in SWORD AND SORCERESS 14, Michael Spence suggested that we set our first collaboration, "Salt and Sorcery," in the same world, and the Treasures series was born. A writer-editor, teacher, and researcher, Michael writes on issues of faith, fantasy, and science fiction at "Brother Osric's Scriptorium" (http://brotherosric.marscreativeprojects.com/). He is currently adapting his story "One Drink Before You Go" as an audio drama. Michael lives in northern Indiana with his wife and their dog—who fancies himself the Guardian of them both, determined to provide all the chaos they will ever need.
#
One morning, within the space of eighteen minutes, Senior Thaumaturge Edward made two discoveries. First, his father wanted him to come home for the first time in six years. Second, he was about to become one of the most important people on the face of the earth.
He didn't know which one terrified him more.
Lady Wizard Alyssa, Guardian of the Blade of Unmaking, didn't know about the first item yet (indeed, neither would Edward for another seven minutes), but she was deeply apprehensive—all right, terrified—about the second.
"Both Logas and I have classes this term," Lady Wizard Sarras, Guardian of the Grail and Alyssa's mentor and best friend, pointed out. "And, as you of all people know, we do not send the new Guardian of a Treasure out to retrieve it by himself."
Alyssa nodded. "I know," she agreed. "It's hard enough to handle the Treasure itself—especially when it's an anti-Treasure—without having to deal with anything else. I could never have managed without the two of you helping me. Actually, I'd probably be dead if you hadn't been there. Now it's my turn to watch over and assist Edward." She looked around the Commons where the three of them were having an informal conference over breakfast. "They're going to stop serving soon," she remarked. "I hope he doesn't miss breakfast."
Lord High Wizard Logas looked at the doorway. "I believe that's Edward now." All three of them watched the young man who virtually sleepwalked through the serving line and then added a large mug of coffee to his tray. "I'll bring him over," Logas added, rising to collect his wandering protégé.
Edward sat down, still half-asleep, and took a long pull from the mug. "Metamorphose, O Morpheus! Secede, O somnolence!" he muttered.
"Is that a new spell to wake up," Sarras asked lightly, "or is there just too much blood in your caffeine stream?"
"Uh, the latter," Edward said. "I don't think I want to wake up." He sighed, extracted a letter from his book bag, and broke the seal. He must really be asleep, thought Alyssa. Otherwise he'd be the first to consider that a breach of etiquette.
The faux pas did not go unpunished. Two sentences into the second paragraph Edward choked on his coffee.
"Bad news?" Alyssa asked.
"My father," he groaned, and read aloud: "'...The Board of Directors will hold its annual meeting here during the Feast of the Nativity. Since you will one day take the helm of the Company, I believe it is high time they met you. I shall send a Company carriage for you on the twenty-third of December at noon.'
"Today. Just like that," Edward commented glumly. "Alexander Speaks, and it is Done."
Everyone at the table knew about Edward's father, who had a strong magical talent, an uncanny ability to influence public opinion, and ambitions for his son that matched neither Edward's talent nor his inclinations. Edward's one attempt to live up to his father and influence someone's thinking had occurred two and a half years ago, here at the University's College of Wizardry. The results had been disastrous, including serious magical injury to a fellow student that had nearly seen Edward expelled or worse. Only the compassion of Stephen, his victim, had saved him.
Edward had labored long and hard to undo what his magic had done to Stephen, and in the process the two of them had not only cemented a friendship but, as a team, were currently marking out new territory in academic magic.
Alyssa felt a strong sympathy for him. Even centuries after their deaths, she still remembered what her parents' disapproval felt like. Alexander was not likely to take Edward's new position well at all. She hoped there was someone else available to run the family import/export business, because after today Edward would no longer be a candidate.
"We have some news for you," Lady Sarras said, raising the subject of their meeting and their reason for waylaying their young colleague.
"Good or bad?" he replied with forced lightness.
"Good, bad, and bad," Alyssa said. "What do you know about Guardians?"
"Like Laurel?" Edward's ex-girlfriend was living in China now, having accidentally become the Guardian of one of its Greater Treasures.
"No," Sarras said. "Like us. Laurel's Guardianship comes from a different tradition. Remember how she wandered around using a Treasure to hold her hair in place for days before anyone realized what it was?"
Edward nodded. Laurel had found the Scholar's Pin in a crate of customs documents and used it to hold her hair up because the afternoon grew warm and the pin was sitting on her desk.
"It's different for us," Sarras said. "Unlike China's Emperor, we don't choose Guardians for our treasures; they are chosen for us. When a Guardian dies, all of the other Guardians know who has died and who the new Guardian is."
"Everyone except the new Guardian," Alyssa said. "I had no idea what was going on when these two arrived on my doorstep and told me I had to come with them."
Edward took another sip of coffee. "And you're telling me all this because you have good news." With somewhat forced cheer, he went on, "So may I assume, then, that all's right with the world, and no one has died?"
Logas smiled ruefully. "Would that it were so, young Edward. I can tell you that no one has shuffled off this mortal coil today, nor do we expect anyone to do so tomorrow."
Edward let out his breath. "Oh. Good, then. So-"
"It occurred last month."
Edward visibly sagged. "And you've come to me because ... because the new Guardian is..." He swallowed hard. "...me."
The others nodded.
"I see," he said. He looked at his elders, one by one. "So what's the good news?"
"That was the good news," said Alyssa. "The bad news is that you, like me, have been chosen to guard an anti-Treasure." Before he could respond she went on, "The other bad news is that it has disappeared, and we have to find it."
"Let me get this straight," Edward said slowly. "You know who is supposed to be guarding it—"
The others nodded.
"—and where to find him—me—"
They nodded again.
"—but you do
n't know where the thing itself is."
Lord Logas nodded. "As one of our brightest young researchers," he said, "I doubt you will find this to be a significant problem."
"All right," said Edward. "So what is this anti-Treasure? And is it 'anti' anything specific?"
"It's called the Sceptre of the Ungodly," Lord Logas said. "Have you heard of it?"
Edward shook his head. "What does it do? For that matter, what does it look like? I have to be able to identify it before I can find it."
Lord Logas smiled in a Got you! way that made Alyssa wince. It wasn't fair to ambush Edward when he hadn't even finished his coffee, much less had a bite of breakfast. "I have in my workroom a number of sources concerning the Sceptre," Logas said, "and we can look at them after breakfast. In the meantime, may I offer you my congratulations, Edward. The fact that you've been chosen for this responsibility speaks well of you. It also shows that Stephen was right to put his confidence in you after his injury. I believe that even had we not already considered that matter closed, this would settle it."
"A Guardian," Edward said slowly. "I'm going to be an actual, honest-to-Tertullian Guardian. Who'd have thought it? Surely not—" he looked at the letter next to his tray. "My father!" he cried abruptly. "He expects me to take over the family business someday. And he's just ordered me to come home—today, at noon!—to a board meeting so he can make it formal. I can't do that and be a Guardian both! ... Uh, can I?"
Lady Sarras and Lord Logas exchanged glances. "We haven't done anything like that before," Sarras said. "We try to stay out of commerce when we can. We prefer to keep a low profile, and portraits in an Annual Report available to anyone who asks for it are not something we want."
"Perhaps," said Logas, extending a finger to rub his lower lip, "this would be an opportunity to educate your father in the ways of mages. You've not spoken with him in a while, no? Something tells me this would be an auspicious time to do so." He looked at Alyssa. "You will go with him, of course. As I recall, you can do innocent and harmless-looking very well."