The beasts of Barakhai bob-1

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Falima had anticipated the question. "His stone is unique. Most, and the spell, only work for human languages; though the lady said you might get some basic idea of an animal's mood." She studied him, brows rising in increments. "If that's necessary." It seemed more question than statement.

  Collins shrugged, disappointed. "It can't hurt." Not wanting to look stupid, he added. "Though, when a horse draws its ears back and raises a hind foot, or a bird screeches and lashes out with its beak, or a dog growls, I can get a pretty good notion of their bent toward me."

  Ialin chimed in, "Those are pretty obvious signs." He added with heat, "Of course, when a man slaps me halfway to Carterton, I get a pretty good idea of his bent toward me, too."

  "That's not fair," Collins protested. "I thought you were a bug."

  "Joetha, too, apparently."

  Assaulted by irritation, Collins dismissed the comment with a sharp wave. "Can't we ever get past that?"

  "Past it?" Ialin's voice went crisp with angry incredulity. "You killed and ate someone. How do you get past that?"

  Collins did not know, but he had managed. Zylas, Falima, Vernon, Prinivere, and even Korfius had managed as well. He emphasized every word, and they emerged in clear snarls, "It… was… an… accident."

  "Ialin," Falima said, in the same warning tone Zylas used to use when she verbally assaulted Collins.

  At that moment, the rat skidded into their midst, squeaking savagely. He dropped the translation stone to the floor and planted a paw on it. "Cool it, guys. She's awake."

  While Collins still marveled at how flawlessly the two translation devices merged even into slang, the others hurried or scrambled to the dragon's side.

  Prinivere stretched her long, scaly neck, peering at the three in front of her with ancient eyes.*I'm fine,* she broadcast, with no more sincerity than the claim usually held in America. Even without physical words, her weakness came to him clearly.*A few more hours, and I should have the strength to fly. I appreciate your watching over me.*

  "We appreciate the magic, my lady," Zylas squeaked, right front paw on the crystal.

  The dragon reached out an enormous claw and seemed to enclose Zylas in it.

  Fear clutched at Collins, though he knew she meant him no harm.

  When Prinivere removed her claw, she left Zylas as he had been, except for a tousle of fur between his pink velvet ears. "Near-perfect overlap. I'm impressed, Zylas."

  "Couldn't have done it without you and this magic," Zylas threw back the compliment, jiggling the translation stone with his paw.

  "And constant practice," Falima added. "Don't go getting too humble, even in the lady's presence."

  Zylas twitched his pointed nose at Falima, who excused herself and headed for the cave mouth.

  Knowing she had gone to switch, Collins walked toward the group to give Falima more privacy. As they passed one another, Falima whispered, "Ialin will come around."

  Collins bit his lip to keep from laughing. They were precisely the words Zylas had used about her and Ialin at various times. It hardly mattered, then or now. He only had to get along with the hummingbird long enough to steal the magic-enhancing crystal and get himself through the new portal.

  Prinivere recovered more slowly than even she seemed to expect, though her loyal attendants, a horse and a rat, showed no signs of impatience. Ialin set to describing the layout of the palace to Collins in a straight, matter-of-fact manner that precluded gibes or personal affronts. Apparently, the keep had two irregular lines of curtain walls: the outer with six mural towers and two gatehouses, the inner with gatehouses directly in line with those of the outer wall, but smaller. Both walls had full-length, crenellated parapets. Between the walls lay a grassy outer courtyard, grazed by herbivore servants and horse-guards while in their switch-forms. In addition to the keep, the inner courtyard contained a stables/guard barracks, gardens, kennel barracks, and a pond.

  Head overflowing with sketched diagrams and verbal descriptions, Collins sat back on his haunches. "How do you know all this?"

  Ialin gave him that well-rehearsed stare that proclaimed Collins the dumbest man alive. "We're a hummingbird and a rat. How do you think we know?"

  The three hours until Zylas' return to man form passed more swiftly than Collins expected as he tried to cram the information Ialin gave him into every nook and cranny in his brain. Comparing the situation to the night before finals helped, but the unfamiliar castle terms required defining, making the whole even more complicated. Collins could not help remembering why he had chosen a formulaic, theoretical, and logical field rather than one based mainly on memorization. He gained new respect for historians and geographers.

  Falima grazed outside throughout the lesson. At nine, Ialin returned to bird form, and Collins heaved a grateful sigh. Anticipating three hours of blessed relief and silence, he drew the travel pack to him in search of breakfast. Crouched in front of one of the chests, he placed each item on its lid: first a hunk of brown bread, the jar of nut paste, and a wrinkled applelike fruit. He rummaged for a stick to spread the paste, wishing he had his multitool. It had served him well in many unexpected situations, from using the pliers to straighten a damaged cage clasp to cutting open the otherwise impenetrable plastic packaging that entombed so many small electronics.

  Collins discarded the thought of using his companions' utility knives on food. No telling what's on those blades. Instead, he went to the cave mouth to find a suitable stick.

  At Collins' sudden appearance, Falima raised her head and nickered. Remembering an earlier conversation, he strode over and scratched her between the ears. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, half-chewed stems jutting from her mouth. The sun beamed down from a cloudless sky, igniting red highlights in her tangled black forelock. Collins finger-combed it back in place with one hand, while the other continued to scratch.

  Collins' stomach rumbled, and he abandoned his ministrations with a final pat. "Pretty girl," he cooed, feeling like an idiot and wondering how much of the encounter Falima would remember in human form. Locating a thick twig near his feet, he picked it up and returned to the cave.

  Prinivere lumbered outside. Collins froze, fear twitching through him despite his knowledge and his efforts to keep the emotion at bay. He stepped aside, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets to hide them. The stick jabbed his thigh through the fabric, and he loosed a grunt of pain. *I'm going to find food,* Prinivere announced, though whether at him or everyone, Collins could not tell.*Be back by the time Zylas changes.*

  Collins nodded his reply, though the dragon had already swept past him. He had no idea what something so large might eat in the vegetable family to sustain herself. Though some of the largest dinosaurs had been herbivores, the paleontologists surmised that they had had to eat constantly to keep themselves alive. So far, he had not seen the dragon consume anything.

  Carrying his spreading stick, Collins returned to his food, only to find Zylas nibbling at the bread. He stopped short. "You know, in my world, finding a rat eating your food might just be the grossest thing imaginable."

  "Great," Zylas squeaked, his paw on the translation stone and his mouth leaking crumbs. "More for me."

  "Ah," Collins reached for the nut paste. "But I'm a biology student. I could eat a block of Swiss in a pathology laboratory over the smell of formaldehyde while mice used the holes for a maze." The medical student from whom he had stolen the quote had added a nearby dissected cadaver and that, if hungry enough, he would devour the animals with the cheese. Under the circumstances, Collins felt it best to leave those parts out.

  Despite his bold words, Collins got himself a fresh piece of bread on which to spread the paste. He doubted Zylas could carry any of the rat-borne illnesses of his world without infecting himself in human form, but he saw no need to take chances. "So what, exactly, does a dragon eat?"

  Zylas finished a mouthful of bread. "A whole lot."

  "No doubt." Collins dipped the stick into the jar and slappe
d a glob onto his bread. "A whole lot of what?"

  "People," Zylas said without hesitation.

  Collins jerked his attention to the rat, hand still on the bread. "What?"

  "I'm kidding," Zylas said. "Of course, she eats the same things everyone else eats. Plants, fish, bugs."

  "Oh." Collins swallowed hard. "That's not funny."

  "Sorry."

  "In fact, it was downright insensitive."

  "I'm sorry," Zylas repeated. "I have near perfect overlap. Apparently, my rat sense of humor isn't as careful as my man sense of humor."

  The guilt of his crime revived, Collins discovered a lump in his throat that made eating a chore. He pulled a bladder from the pack and sucked a mouthful of a sweet-and-sour fruit juice that contained a hint of alcohol. Expecting water, he nearly choked on the contents. "What the hell is this?"

  Zylas jumped from the chest to Collins' lap, then skittered up his arm. He stuck his entire, furry head through the opening, then retreated with golden droplets clinging to his whiskers. He returned to his place, and the translating stone, before speaking. "It's a mix, one of Vernon's special recipes. Don't you like it?"

  Collins had not given a thought to his opinion of the unexpected taste. Now, he considered, savoring the aftertaste on his tongue. If he had to guess the ingredients, he would have said grape juice, apple juice, some lemon, a dash of something exotic, like guava or mango, and a touch of dry wine. "Actually, I do. I just wasn't expecting it." He turned his thoughts back to Prinivere. "She'd have to eat an ocean of fish, I'd guess."

  Zylas bobbed his head, splashing the golden droplets. "She usually does most of her eating in her human form, but I'd guess she had to 'refuel' from the spell."

  Refuel. Collins liked the translation, though it could not have been the actual word Zylas had used. His respect for magic grew tenfold in an instant.

  "Are you ready to learn the interior of the keep?"

  Collins groaned. "Can't we wait till you're… human?" He had looked forward to three hours of eating and quiet or, at most, gentle conversation with Zylas alone.

  "Once the lady fully regains her strength, we need to move on." Zylas eyed the pack. "Could you get me one of those beetles, please?"

  Collins shoved a piece of bread in his mouth. He opened the pack, rummaging for the bug jar.

  "It's best you have the general layout down by then. We can review and discuss strategy en route.

  Collins found the covered crock and pulled it out. He opened the lid, watching the horde of grape-sized insects crawl over one another, then placed it on the chest beside Zylas. He chewed and swallowed. "Are you sure this is really the easiest way?"

  Zylas placed his nose into the crock, then withdrew suddenly, sneezing. "You mean sneaking into an unsuspecting castle and removing a small object?"

  "Yes."

  "As opposed to taking on a phalanx of archers ordered to kill?"

  When Zylas put it that way, it seemed clear. "Well…"

  "Near a town that found you guilty of murder and sentenced you to a hanging they damn well know they didn't manage to complete."

  "All right. I get it."

  Zylas again stuck his face into the beetle crock. His squeaks echoed through the confines. "Of course, if you'd rather stay here with us forever…"

  It was not an option. Even if his days were not numbered by how long it took the guards to catch up to him, Collins doubted he could live without the conveniences to which he had become accustomed: electric lights, refrigerators, modern medicine, pizza. He sighed at the thought. How much simpler his life could become if he did stay, but it would become so much better with a portal that allowed him to bring back the occasional Tylenol or Twinkie. Finally, he stated what he knew was true all along. "I can't possibly stay."

  Zylas withdrew. "Would you mind getting one of those out for me, please. Every time I try, I get the whole bunch of them glomming onto my face."

  Collins reached into the crock and pinched out a single beetle. Gingerly, Zylas took it from Collins' grip with his teeth, whiskers tickling.

  Collins replaced the lid. "You going to want more?"

  Beetle clamped between his teeth, Zylas silently shook his head.

  Collins returned the jar to the pack, smiling at how normal it now seemed to feed bugs to a talking rat. Only a couple of days ago, he would have considered it absolutely understandable to find himself locked in some loony bin for even imagining such behavior.

  While Zylas ripped into the beetle, Collins studied the bland interior of the cave. The dark, irregular walls surrounded a comfortable area, with nothing but the two chests to break the monotony. "What's in the boxes?" he asked, surprised he had not wondered sooner.

  Zylas abandoned the partially eaten beetle to answer. "Personal things, I'd venture. Clothes maybe, though the lady rarely wears any. Food, certainly. Baubles."

  "Baubles?"

  "Things friends and intimates have given her through the ages."

  "Her hoard?" Collins suggested.

  Now, it was Zylas' turn to question. "Hoard?"

  "Money," Collins explained. "Silver and gold trinkets. Gems. Jewelry." He came by the information through his brief stint of role-playing. "It's generally believed in my world that dragons like shiny things and objects of value."

  Zylas abandoned his repast, red eyes positively glowing with excitement. "So you once had dragons in your world, too?"

  The rat/man looked so happy, Collins hated to disappoint him, but he would not lie. "Only in myth and fairy tale, I'm afraid."

  The light died in Zylas' eyes, and he returned to eating.

  "Sixty million years before people, we did have dinosaurs. Those were giant lizards, some of which bore a resemblance to dragons."

  "Really." Zylas spoke around a mouthful of bug. "Did they use magic?"

  "Most had brains about the size of your lunch." Collins addressed the question more directly, "It seems highly unlikely."

  Zylas made a wordless noise.

  Collins returned to his point, "Anyway, in the stories, dragons keep hoards of shiny treasure which they guard fiercely."

  "It has to be shiny?"

  "Apparently." The details of legend seemed unimportant to Collins.

  Zylas shook out his fur. "Well, that's not like dragons here. At least, it's not like the one I know. She doesn't have much interest in… material things, except as they pertain to causes."

  "That's good to know." Collins could not see a long-term use for the knowledge. "If I ever write a story or start role-playing again, I'll keep that in mind."

  Zylas finished the beetle, licked his paws, then cleaned his face with them.

  Collins returned the leftover rations to the pack. Zylas waited only until he shoved it aside to ask, "Ready?"

  "For what?" Collins asked cautiously.

  "To learn the inside of the castle."

  "No," Collins said, settling down on his buttocks. He doubted his answer mattered, however.

  True to Collins' hunch, Zylas began. "The lowest floor contains the storerooms and dungeons…"

  The lesson droned on for hours while Falima continued to graze outside and Ialin made occasional buzzing appearances. Benton Collins got his first break when Prinivere appeared at the entrance. The green-gray scales looked ruffled, the leathern wings droopy, the ancient eyes dull. She dragged wearily back into the cave, finding her sleeping corner, and flopped to the ground.

  Zylas abandoned his lesson in the middle of a sentence and rushed to the dragon's side. Ialin fluttered in after her, hovering at her eye level.

  Savoring a few moments alone, Collins sighed and remained in place, unable to hear their exchange. His head whirled with information: kitchens and workshops on the ground floor, above underground storage rooms, food cellars, and the dungeons. The second story held the library and great dining hall, the third the servants' quarters. Every floor had what Collins understood to be a primitive bathroom, translated as "garde-robe." Apparently, both dr
agon spell and translation stone considered it an English word, though he had never heard it before. He imagined it had not entered common American parlance; though, with their known penchant for fart, belch, and bathroom humor, it would have worked well there. Zylas described it rather like a park potty: a thigh-high platform with a hole in it. The rat/man seemed to think it might prove a suitable portal for entry, escape, or for secreting the magical crystal. Though not averse to tossing the stone down the hole, Collins would rather eat bugs than retrieve it afterward. And using it as an exit was not even a remote possibility.

  Zylas knew nothing about the two uppermost floors because of their warding against switchers, but he surmised they held the private quarters of the royals. The roof was crenellated, with crossbowmen and ballistae protecting it, and the winding stairwell proceeded a story higher, to a trapdoor that opened onto the top of a guard tower. Heavy ironbound oak doors opened onto each floor and the roof in both directions, though the four to the two upper stories did not admit switchers. Apparently, if a commoner so much as touched it, the door would sound an alarm and latch up tight.

  Unable to put any logical explanation to such a system, Collins had to assume magic. Unless other portals exist, and folks from civilizations more advanced than ours have come. He shoved the thought aside. Zylas would know that. Hard enough accepting magic. Do I have to put some Planet of the Apes twist on this? Collins had once read that "advanced science is virtually indistinguishable from magic." The average man on the street could not explain how a toaster or a microwave worked, and a significant portion of the population considered the simple running of electricity through wires a miracle too technical for understanding. He himself found the concept of fax transmission fascinating and incomprehensible. The source doesn't matter. I just need to know how it works on the macro level.