Several voices spoke up in reply, but after a moment’s confusion matters straightened themselves out. Kirna told the tale of the dragon’s arrival and the death of Adar the Smith, and of the ancient sorcerous oracle and the image it had shown them. Her sister Alasha corrected her on various details, and Wulran interjected commentary as he thought appropriate.
Seldis listened, and asked a question every so often—did the dragon seem to favor one side over the other when it ripped the smith apart, or did it use both foreclaws equally? Was its flight steady, like a hawk’s, or did it bob slightly, like a crow?
“…so we all agreed that Wuller should go, and the next morning he did,” Kirna concluded, “while we all waited here. From there on, lady, you know better than we.”
Seldis nodded. “And what did you do while you waited?” she asked.
The villagers looked at her and at one another in surprise.
“Nothing,” Alasha said. “We just waited.”
Seldis blinked. “You didn’t try anything else?” she asked.
Several people shook their heads.
“And you hadn’t tried anything else before you talked to this oracle?”
“No,” Kirna said. “What could we try? We saw what it did to Adar!”
Seldis stared around at the gathered villagers, and Wuller knew that she was trying hard to conceal genuine astonishment.
What had she expected them to try, he wondered.
Seldis closed her lips into a thin line, and then said, “Well, you haven’t been very much help, not having tried anything, but I certainly know what I’m going to try first. I can’t believe none of you ever thought to try it. You feed the beast a sheep every day, don’t you?”
Heads nodded, and Wulran said, “Yes.”
“Then I’ll need about two dozen little pouches,” Seldis said. “Pigs’ bladders would be perfect. I didn’t see many pigs around, though, so sheep bladders would do. Sausage casing should work, or even leather purses, if they’re sewn very tightly. They need to be small enough to stuff down a sheep’s throat—but not too small, and it doesn’t matter if it hurts the sheep.”
A confused murmur ran through the room.
Wuller blinked, puzzled. He glanced at his father in time to see Wulran giving him a meaningful stare and making a wiggling gesture with one finger.
His father thought Seldis was mad, he realized.
He rebelled mentally at that. He had spent a sixnight with her, and he knew she was not mad. Whatever she intended to do had to be a dragonhunter’s trick, not a madwoman’s folly.
And whatever it was, he would help her with it.
17.
The meeting broke up quickly after that. Seldis refused to explain what she had in mind. Most of the people didn’t seem to think she really had anything in mind, but everyone agreed to let her have a day to make her attempt.
Wulran managed another surreptitious chat with his son, and made it quite clear to Wuller that it was his duty to keep an eye on Seldis and make sure she didn’t slip away.
Wuller agreed, unhappily, not to let her out of his sight.
After breakfast the next morning Seldis rose from the table, stretched, and said, “I’m going for a walk to gather some herbs. Could someone lend me a basket? A big one?”
Illuré produced one that Seldis found suitable, and the three of them, Seldis, Illuré, and Wuller, strolled out into the woods beyond the village.
They walked for several minutes in companionable silence, enjoying the warm spring weather. Wuller glanced at Illuré, and then at Seldis, and then back at his aunt.
He had no desire to play traitor ram. If he could get Seldis away from Illuré he would warn her what the elders had in mind, and give her a chance to slip away.
Just then Seldis said, “I don’t see what I’m looking for anywhere. Illuré, where can I find wolfsbane or nightshade around here?”
“Find what?” Illuré said, startled. “I never heard of those; what are they?”
Seldis looked at Illuré, equally startled. “Why, they’re plants, fairly common ones. Wolfsbane has little flowers with hoods on them; on the sort that would be blooming at this time of year the blossoms are yellow and very small, but the other kinds can have blue or purple or white flowers.”
“I never heard of it,” Illuré said, “and I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. Are you sure it grows around here?”
“Maybe not,” Seldis said, her expression worried. “What about nightshade?”
“What is it?” Illuré asked.
Seldis said, “Well, it’s got flowers like little bells, dark red ones, and little black berries.”
Illuré stood and puzzled for a moment.
“I don’t think we have that, either,” she said at last. “If you want flowers, we have daisies.”
“No, I don’t want flowers!” Seldis snapped.
“Well, then, what do you want?” Illuré asked.
“Never mind. Let’s just go back.” She turned and headed toward the village.
Wuller and Illuré followed her, baffled.
Wuller glanced at Illuré, wondering if this might be the best chance they would have for Seldis to slip away, but then he decided to wait. The Aldagmorite seemed far more worried than she had earlier, but still not frightened; Wuller thought she must still have something in mind, even without her magical herbs.
In the village they found Wulran glowering at them from his doorstep, and Kirna sitting nearby with a basket full of sausage casings. Other villagers were watching from a safe distance.
“Will these do?” Kirna asked, displaying her basket.
Seldis shook her head. “Those would be perfect,” she said, “but I’m afraid my idea won’t work. I couldn’t find what I needed. I guess I’ll have to think of something else.”
Wulran snorted. “Lady,” he said, “I guess you will, and quickly. The oracle said you could save us from the dragon, but you won’t do it by wandering the hills, and we can’t risk your wandering off completely. From now on, you’ll stay here, in the village, under guard.”
“But…” Seldis began.
“No argument!” Wulran shouted. The other villagers murmured.
Seldis didn’t argue. At Wulran’s direction, she was led into the house and sent into Illuré’s room, where new brackets were set on either side of the door, and a bar placed across.
The window, too, was barred, and Seldis was a prisoner.
Wuller, quite involuntarily, found himself appointed her gaoler.
“She’s mad, and the mad are dangerous,” his father explained, out of her hearing, “but she trusts you. She’ll stay if you guard her. If she can tell us how to kill the dragon, all well and good, but if she can’t then we’ll put her out as tomorrow’s sacrifice. That must be what the oracle intended in the first place.”
Wuller didn’t try to argue. He knew Seldis was not mad, but he had no idea what she had been planning, and also saw that his father was frightened and angry and would brook no discussion.
Something would have to be done, of course, but not with words.
Wuller settled down at the door to Seldis’ improvised cell and waited.
Early in the afternoon, when everyone else had grown bored and left, he called in to her, “What’s so special about those plants you wanted?”
“Am I allowed to speak now, then?” she asked sarcastically.
“Of course you are. Listen, I’m very sorry about all this; it’s not my fault!”
“Oh, I know, but it’s so stupid! There’s nothing magical about dragon-killing; it’s easy, if you put a little thought into it. Everyone around here is just too scared to think! What good does it do to lock me up like this?”
“It keeps you from running away,” Wuller said, a bit hesitantly.
“But that’s idiotic. After walking all the way up here, why would I run away now?”
“Because…” Wuller began, and then stopped.
If she didn’t already know
she was to be sacrificed, would it do any good to tell her?
Maybe not.
“Never mind that for now,” he said instead. “What’s so special about those plants?”
“They’re poisonous. Wuller, what are you hiding? What are they…oh, no. They aren’t really that stupid and superstitious, are they? A maiden sacrifice, is that what they’re planning?”
Wuller didn’t answer. Her answer to his question had brought sudden comprehension. He thought for a moment, and saw it all—not merely what Seldis had originally planned, but what they could do instead.
“Wuller? Are you there?” she called through the door.
“I’m here,” he said, “and don’t worry. Just wait until tonight. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” She laughed bitterly.
18.
When Wuller brought in her dinner Seldis refused to speak to him; she glared silently, and after a muttered apology he didn’t press it.
Later, though, when the others were all asleep, he carefully unbarred the door, moving slowly to avoid making noise or bumping anything with the heavy bar.
“Come on,” he whispered.
She stepped out quickly. “Where?” she asked. “Are you just letting me go?”
He shook his head. “No, no,” he said, “we’re going to kill the dragon, just as you planned. I’ve got a sheep tied outside, and Kirna left the basket of sausage casings; everything’s ready.”
“You found wolfsbane? Or nightshade?”
“No,” he said. “Those don’t grow around here.”
Seldis started to protest.
“Hush! It’s all right, really. I know what I’m doing. Come on, and don’t make any more noise!”
She came.
In the morning Wulran found his son sound asleep, leaning against the barred door of Illuré’s bedroom. Wuller looked rather dirtier and more rumpled than Wulran remembered him being the night before, and Wulran looked the lad over suspiciously.
He hoped that Wuller hadn’t gone and done anything stupid.
He wondered if there was anything to the stories about dragons demanding virgins for sacrifice.
How could a dragon tell, though?
More magic at work, presumably.
Whatever magic was involved, Wulran hoped that the girl was still in there to be sacrificed, and hadn’t slipped out in the night. What if the boy’s dirt came from chasing through the woods after her?
He poked Wuller with a toe. “Wake up,” he said.
Wuller blinked and woke up. “Good morning,” he said. Then he yawned and stretched.
“Is the girl still in there?” Wulran demanded.
Wuller looked at the door, still closed and barred, and then up at his father. “I think so,” he said. “She was last I saw.”
“And she’ll be there when we come to get her for the sacrifice?”
Wuller yawned again. “You can’t sacrifice her,” he said. “I already fed the dragon this morning, just before first light. It’s probably dead by now.”
“What’s probably dead by now, a sheep? You fed it a sheep?”
Wuller nodded. “Yes, I fed it a sheep, and of course the sheep is dead, but what I meant was, the dragon is probably dead.”
His father stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
Wuller got to his feet.
“I said, the dragon is probably dead by now.”
“Have you gone mad, too, now?” Wulran asked. “I didn’t know it was catching.”
“I’m not mad,” Wuller said. He didn’t like his father’s tone, though, and he suddenly decided not to say any more.
“Step aside, boy,” Wulran demanded. “I want to be sure she’s in there.”
Wuller stepped aside.
He said nothing as his father unbarred the door and found Seldis peacefully asleep in Illuré’s bed.
He said nothing at all for the rest of the morning, not even when the men came later and found Seldis still sleeping, and picked her up and carried her off to the flat stone where the dragon took its meals.
19.
Seldis awoke the moment they laid hands on her, but she didn’t scream or struggle. She put up no resistance as the party carried her to the flat, bloodstained stone outcropping where the dragon accepted its tribute.
There she was lowered gently to the ground. One end of a rope was tied around her ankles, the other to the tall scorched stump beside the stone where, prior to this, only sheep had been tethered. Her hands, too, were tied.
Then she was placed on the stone, and the others stepped back, leaving her there.
She looked up at the villagers and addressed Wuller directly.
“You better be right about those mushrooms,” she said.
He looked up at the mountainside above them, and smiled. “See for yourself,” he said, pointing.
She looked where Wuller pointed, and saw the tip of the dragon’s tail, hanging down from a ledge like an immense bloated vine. No one else had noticed; they had been paying attention to their captive.
The tail was utterly limp.
“See?” Wuller said. “It’s dead, just as you said it would be.”
The villagers looked, and then stared in open-mouthed astonishment.
“We’d better go make sure,” Seldis said. “I’m not familiar with those mushrooms. If it’s just sick, we’d better go finish it off while it’s still weak.”
“Right,” Wuller said. He knelt beside her and drew his knife, then began sawing at the ropes.
Wulran tore his gaze from that dangling, lifeless tail and looked down at the bound young woman. “What did you do?” he asked.
“We killed the dragon, Wuller and I,” she said. “I told you I knew how.” Her wrists were free, and she sat up.
“But how?” Wulran asked.
“It was easy. Wuller let me out last night, and we went out in the woods and gathered mushrooms, two baskets full—those thin ones with the white stems and the little cups at the bottom. You don’t have wolfsbane or nightshade around here, but you had to have something poisonous, and Wuller told me about the mushrooms.”
“But how…” someone began.
Seldis ignored him and kept right on speaking.
“We ground up the mushrooms and stuffed them into those sausage casings, and then we stuffed those down the throat of a sheep Wuller brought, and then we tied the sheep here—oh, look, some of its blood got on my skirt! Didn’t you people see it was still wet?”
Wuller grinned at her as the rope around her ankles parted.
“Anyway,” Seldis continued, “we tied it out, and the dragon ate it, and that was that.”
“Poison mushrooms?” someone asked. “That’s all it took?”
“Of course that’s all!” Seldis said, plainly offended. “Do you think I’m an amateur? I know how to kill dragons, I told you!”
“You’re sure it’s dead?” Wulran asked. “I mean, I know those mushrooms are deadly, but that’s a dragon…”
Seldis shrugged. “A dragon’s just a beast. A very special beast, a magical beast perhaps, but a beast, of mortal flesh and blood. Poison will kill it, sure as it will kill anything.”
20.
“We need to check,” Wulran said gruffly. “We can’t just take your word for it that it’s dead.”
“You’re right,” Seldis said. “If I got the dose wrong it might just be sick for a few days. We need to go see, and if it’s still alive we need to finish it off while it’s weak.”
The villagers looked at one another.
“You don’t all have to go,” Seldis said. “Wuller and I will check.”
“I’ll come, too,” Wulran said.
“If you like. There’s one thing, though—could someone fetch me a wineskin, the biggest you can find?”
The villagers were puzzled, but none of them were inclined to argue with her any further.
Several minutes later, the three of them, Wulran, Wuller, and Seldis, set out up the mountain
side to the ledge where the dragon’s tail was draped. Seldis carried an immense empty wineskin, the sort that would be hung up on the village commons during Festival, and still no one had had the nerve to ask her why.
They crept up onto the ledge, past the thick tail, and down into the stony crevice where most of the dragon lay, motionless and silent.
“It looks dead,” Wuller whispered as they came even with the great belly.
Seldis nodded. “Looks can be deceiving, though.” She took out her long knife and crept forward, toward the head.
“What are you…” Wuller began.
“Stay back!” she hissed. “I’m going to make sure it’s dead.”
Wulran reached out and grabbed Wuller’s arm, and pulled him back to the edge of the ledge, where they could both slide down out of sight in a hurry if the need arose.
They waited for what seemed hours to Wuller, but watching the sun he realized it was only a few minutes.
“It’s all right,” Seldis called at last. “It’s dead!”
Wuller ran back down the crevice after her, calling, “How can you be sure?”
Then he saw what she had done. She had rammed her long knife up to the hilt into one of the dragon’s eyes.
If there had been any life in it at all, it would surely have reacted to that!
After that, she had swung her wineskin into position and cut open a vein, allowing the dragon’s blood to spill into the waiting receptacle. Wuller stared at the trickle of purplish ichor.
“This will cover my expenses,” she said, almost apologizing. “Wizards can always use more dragon’s blood.”
“It’s really dead,” Wuller said. “We did it! Seldis, we all owe you more than we could ever pay you, and particularly after the treatment you got. I’m sure that everyone in the village will agree with me on that.”
Wulran came up behind him and said, “If they don’t at first, I’ll make them agree, young lady.”
Seldis shrugged. “It’s nothing. This one was easy. Hell, you people should have thought of it yourselves! You knew about the mushrooms, and you saw it eat a sheep every day—why didn’t you try anything?”
Tales of Ethshar Page 9