The War of the Lance t2-3

by Margaret Weis

  The human shook his head, but his eyes never left the slumbering form of the woman. "Damned fool that I was, I did not run, nor beg for mercy, nor even think to draw my weapon. By the time I had even conceived of such things, the hell-spawn commander of that force — the Dragon Highlord himself — was upon me, and knocked me out. Why the Highlord did not kill me there I do not know, Morgion rot his bones. Instead he trussed me and slung me dragonback like a sack of flour. When I awakened to my fate, we were in the air. Then a massive blow struck the beast in its flight, and we crashed. I awoke to find myself in your parlor, with all these odd, pleasant little people, and with this" — he leaned toward the woman — "vision of loveliness."

  The woman-warrior was lean and stringy, her battlehardened muscles honed by war. But she was fair of face and, with her auburn hair spread out on the down pillows, looked almost angelic. It was easy for a human to think of her as beautiful when she was unconscious.

  Kali, being a gnome, was thinking along other lines.

  "This Highlord," he asked, "did you know him?"

  "No," answered Oster, staring rapturously at the woman. "I never saw him without his mask."

  It was then apparent to Kali that the "foul hell-spawn" and the radiant creature with whom the man was smitten (for even gnomes can recognize someone who is smitten) were one and the same. But more important at the time was the news that a massive blow hit the dragon they were riding and forced it to crash. Weapons that could deliver massive blows out of the sky and force dragons to crash sounded suspiciously gnomish to the gnome.

  Of course, the outsider Oster would be disappointed to find out that his vision of loveliness and his Morgioncursed captor were one and the same. Were Kali a less honorable and more honest individual, he would have burst Oster's bubble at once. But Kali was a gentlegnome, and there were some things you just don't do in polite society: disappointing someone to whom you have surrendered was one of them.

  Oster broke in on the gnome's reverie with another room-filling sigh. "Does she have a name?"

  "Er… ummm," stuttered the gnome, thinking on his feet. "Did she give me a name when… ah… she brought you in? Something about fighting a dragon. Yes, that's it, something about a fight with a dragon. She hit it with some great magic, that must have… ah… been the massive blow you felt. And you fell off of it and… ah…" He scanned the room for inspiration, his eyes settling on his collection of ornamental spoons painted with wildflowers. He tried to think of a flower name. "She brought you here, but was… drained by the battle, and took ill herself soon after… something about the battle that wore her out. Columbine. Yes, THAT was the name. Columbine."

  "Columbine," said Oster, sighing again, a deep sigh that made Kali think of a bellows in need of repair. "I owe my life to her. I feared that I would be held prisoner or slain by the Highlord, but now I have made good an escape to a magical land. Rescued by a beautiful and magical woman."

  He turned to the gnome, transfixing Kali in an intense gaze. "I must help her recover, little healer. What can I do to help?"

  Kali stammered and stuttered, but at last instructed the man Oster in some simple methods of healing, little more than the applying of cold compresses and the like. Then he left his two charges alone and fled the house. He needed to think about what had just transpired and, more importantly, to confirm his immediate fears concerning the dragon's demise.

  Kali went from house to house, a long, tedious business that took most of the rest of the day. This is not because the gnomish community was large — it was not — but at every house, a visiting gnome must make pleasant conversation, have tea, report on any recent findings, have some more tea, look at the host's latest researches, make more pleasant conversations, and so forth, before pressing on. Kali hoped he was not offending others by refusing a third helping of tea, but after the sixth house he was beginning to slosh as he walked.

  At the seventh house, the one belonging to Archimedorastimor the Lesser, son of Archimedorastimor the Greater (and the Later), Kali found the answer he feared. The Archimedorastimors (father and son) had both been involved with astronomy and had long been wondering what to do with their time when it was overcast or daylight. While most gnomes in the field simply attempted to build large towers to get above the clouds and beyond the sun, the Archimedorastimors (Archies for short) instead came up with the novel idea of firing their telescopes from large catapults to get above the clouds and the sun. Other gnomes scoffed at the foolishness of the theory and went back to building towers. But Archie father and son went on experimenting until the time, three years ago, when Archie father built an explosive catapult and launched his entire laboratory into the air, from whence it never came down. Archie, son of Archie, had since continued his father's research, but (save for creating a combination parachute and pillow) had added little to the science. Occasionally, however, he managed to launch a large rock that would fall down on a building or three.

  In any event, it was at the seventh house that Kali found the answer he was dreading. Yes, five days back Archie had been out in the field experimenting with a new astronomical catapult, and from that testing he had just returned. The experiment had been a failure because something large and lumbering had gotten in the way at the last moment. The large and lumbering something sounded to Kali suspiciously dragonlike. When he proposed this theory, Archie did admit that the lumbering something was more than a little reptilian in appearance. Further, it made a sudden and steep dive after it flew into his rock. Kali took tea and made small conversation for the rest of the afternoon, adjuring Archie not to mention the details of this experiment to the new outsiders — Oster and the warrior-woman. Archie promised and also said he would be by later to surrender when he had finished his journal.

  Kali, having resolved the first problem, now turned to the second. The warrior-woman was a Dragon Highlord (whatever that was), and had taken Oster as a prisoner — in a mean fashion at that. The Highlord's armor, which Kali had hidden in a back room, apparently had concealed the fact that she was a woman. Oster was now smitten (as only humans can be smitten) with her in her true appearance. When the woman awakened again, Kali figured, she would probably be mean to Oster again. Oster would be hurt that this radiant creature was not only not named Columbine, but was also the individual that was so mean to him before.

  That would make TWO people that the gnomes had surrendered to unhappy.

  That would not do at all.

  When Kali returned to his house, he found that the man Oster had gathered some wildflowers and placed them in a vase by the woman's sickbed. Kali decided the man had not been addled by the fall after all. From the Human Stories he'd heard beside hearths and over cups of mulled wine, Kali knew such behavior was typical. Humans were always engaging in activity that seemed fruitless, pointless, and overly emotional, making use of grand gestures and mighty oaths.

  The first step, thought Kali, is to make sure the man Oster is not around when the warrior-woman comes to. Her last two outings among the living had proved to be less than peaceful, and based on that sort of previous behavior, the next occasion boded no better. At least he should get the man away and talk to the woman, explain the situation, and calm her down. If she were half as reasonable as Oster, all would work out for the best. Perhaps she had imprisoned him because she liked his appearance as well as he liked hers, Kali reasoned. Human Stories made much of the fact that humans were very poor at expressing themselves, particularly to those they liked.

  When Kali walked into the room, he noticed Oster holding the woman's wrist, as though that would indicate anything more than that the body in question had a pulse. Steeling himself for deception, the gnome walked up to the foot of the bed and grabbed the woman's exposed big toe. Scowling as he imagined wise humans would scowl, Kali gave a grumbling sigh.

  Oster looked up at the gnome at the foot of the bed.

  "Not good," said Kali.

  "Not good?" said Oster.

  "Complications," sai
d Kali. "Straining of the impervious maximus. Omar's syndrome. Liberal contusions. It may be a while."

  Oster rose to his full height and stamped his foot. "Then I shall remain and help!"

  Kali was prepared for the human to issue a mighty oath on the matter, but when none was forthcoming, he scowled deeper and thought quickly. "I'm… ah… going to need some supplies. You may help best — if you are up to it — by going to fetch them."

  "Anything to aid, little healer."

  Kali went to his desk and drew out a parchment and pen. He listed five things at random: hen's teeth, black roses, rubbing alcohol, toad eyes, and feldspar chips. He gave the list to Oster. "These will aid," said the gnome. "You can gather some gear from the storage area and set off. You may need several days to gather the items, but take your time."

  "Can I have a guide to help?"

  Kali thought of Archie. "I can arrange something. Now come. The woman… er, Columbine… needs peace and quiet as well as those items."

  The man went back to rummage in the storage area and Kali wrote a note to Archie, explaining the situation and the need to take the man on the longest possible course to get these items. He was going to post it normally, but checked himself, noting that the gnomish postal service would just as likely deliver it to Oster or back to himself, since their names were mentioned. He ended up delivering it himself.

  Archie and Oster left the next morning, and the woman-warrior awoke that evening, feverish and angry. Kali was entertaining another colleague, Etonamemdosari (Eton), a weaponsmith, who was working on a sword that could be used directly as a plowshare, when the woman stumbled into the room. The pair of gnomes looked up from their mulled wine. (They were trading Human Stories).

  Awake, the woman was less lovely than asleep, for her waking thoughts and memories pinched her face into a tightly-muscled scowl that would scare the cat, had Kali had any cats. (He did not, for they made him sneeze, but HAD he a cat, said cat would be considering changing his lodgings after looking at the woman).

  "My weapons," she said in a voice that would frighten a watchdog. (See the above note on cats, for they apply in this case to dogs as well).

  "Er… Have some wine?" asked Kali.

  "Roast the wine!" bellowed the woman, crossing the room in a single stride and thumping the table with both fists. "Where are my weapons? Where is my armor? Where is my dragon?"

  "Dragon?" said Kali, hoping to sound much more innocent than he felt.

  The woman made a noise like a machine caught between gears and pitched the table over, mulled wine and all. Kali could see this was not going to work out as well as he had hoped.

  "Try again," she said, an evil glint in her eye, "or I'll twist your head off."

  "Ahem… Well. Ah…" Kali's mind raced for a moment, trying to remember how much of the tale he told Oster applied here. "We, ah, I, ah… that is… You were brought here by a hero who slew the beast you were riding. He thought it a wild creature, but, when he found you and realized it was yours, he… ah… brought you here to recover and, ah… left to gather some healing herbs to aid you. He says he's terribly sorry."

  Kali's words struck the angry woman like a blow. She visibly sagged for a moment, her shoulders drooping. Kali could see that the deceased dragon meant as much to her as a cat or dog would to him, except it would probably not make her sneeze. She slumped into a chair, and after taking a few breaths to steady herself, said in a wavering voice. "The prisoner?"

  "He, ammm" — Kali's mind jumped its track for a moment — "didn't make it, I'm afraid." Perhaps she would show sympathy, and that would let him comfort her by revealing that Oster was alive and well. Or maybe even returned to life by a passing holy man.

  "And his body?" she continued. Something in her tone, her tight smile, the way her fingers dug into the wood of the table told Kali that sympathy was riot a current priority for the woman.

  "Well," Kali said, "We ah, tend to burn such things. Had we known you wanted it, we would have kept it for you. I didn't know he meant that much to you."

  The woman laughed — a throaty, deep-seated laugh that started in orbit around her stony heart and, by the time it escaped her lips, held the cruelty of a creature who would throttle birds before breakfast. (See above notes on cats and dogs. Kali's case: no birds were endangered by the laugh.)

  "Meant much? I wanted to take him apart in pieces, cracking each bone, and hang him by his living entrails on a hook in the village to show how I deal with traitors and rebels. His kind cost me a treasure train, and now he has cost me my dragon as well. May Morgion rot his body and Chemosh stir his bones!"

  Kali was struck by the coldness of her oaths, which carried none of the nobility and passion of Oster's oaths, though they invoked the same beings. This human did not seem to have much difficulty in expressing herself at all. It now dawned on him that if he brought her together with Oster, she would be irate — not only at Oster, but at Kali as well. Best to backtrack, he thought, and try to make the situation turn out right.

  "Well, he seemed a nice sort before he, ah… well…" Kali looked at Eton for support in the conversation. His fellow gnome had backed up next to the hearth and was trying to blend in with the fireplace furnishings.

  "Did he suffer?" asked the woman. "Were his bones snapped?

  Kali said yes and answered in the affirmative to a long list of horrible things that she described, just about filling the dance card with all the things that can happen to an individual who has fallen from a high place to a low one. Snapped bones, shattered skull, inner workings scattered over sharp rocks, just enough breath left in the crushed body to plead for mercy and deliver a parting rattle. Kali wondered if this passed for polite conversation where the woman came from. His answers seemed to get the woman more agitated and excited, until he would swear her eyes became like twin pilot lights, glowing and sparking in a malevolent fashion.

  Having exhausted that interesting subject, the woman demanded, "My weapons? My helm? My armor?"

  "The hero, ah, the one who brought you in… ah… hid them," said the gnome.

  "Hid them?" she shrieked, rising from the table.

  "Ah, yes. To keep away burglars, you know. He said he would return them when he got back…"

  Kali intended to say that the hero would not return for more than a few days and why didn't the woman rest, but things started to happen very quickly then. Making that gear-grinding noise again, the warrior pushed both hands up under the gnome's beard and, taking a firm hold of his neck, lifted him off the ground. Kali found that the grip closed off his breathing pipes. Small sparks danced between the woman's face and his. She enlivened this by screaming at him that he and his rat-faced friends would find her weapons if they had to eat their way through the mountains with their teeth, punctuating her remarks by banging Kali's head and shoulders against the back wall. The impact with the wall caused Kali to miss some of her words, but he caught the gist.

  How long this fit went on Kali did not know. He was aware, finally, that he could breathe again, and save for a sore neck and a ringing headache, was still alive. He saw before him the form of the warrior-woman, resting less than comfortably in a heap of broken furniture, facedown. Across from him, Eton was holding a wide-mouthed shovel used to clean the hearth.

  Kali gave a breathy, hoarse thanks, but he could see how Eton was already trying to figure out how to turn the hearth shovel into a combination sword/plowshare.

  Kali put the woman back to bed and arranged for the delivery of new furniture by the time Oster and Archie returned with the material the next day. In that time, Kali had a long time to rub his sore head and think things through.

  Now, despite a lot of stories, gnomes are not by nature violent. Nor, despite similar stories, are they stupid. Kali could see that this warrior was going to become enraged every time she awoke, and that telling her the truth would result in a rampage that would end up destroying a goodly amount of gnomish property and perhaps gnomish bodies. This would not be
a good occurrence, given the fact that gnomes had surrendered to the woman and everything. Further, she would likely harm Oster if she knew he was alive. In the brief time Kali had known Oster, the gnome had decided that the man was one of the good humans, even given his terrible choice in creatures to fall smitten with. It would crush his heart if he found out she so cruel and mean. It would also likely crush his windpipe if the two were left in the same room together.

  The problem was, Kali decided, that he was trying to work in an area he was unfamiliar with. He knew humans only from stories and wild tales, and his current personal encounters indicated something was lacking from his store of knowledge. Human emotions were even farther removed. Like most gnomes, Kali was most familiar with things he could touch, grip, twist, break, and repair. If only this situation had such "a simple, physical solution.

  Looking at the blanket-covered woman, peaceful as the dead and lovely as the morning, Kali realized that perhaps there WAS a simple, physical solution.

  By the time Oster and Archie had returned, Kali had not only laid out a plan, but he had made a list of materials: a closed wagon with oxen, two hundred pounds of plaster, a similar amount of wax, a stone mausoleum with an iron fence around it, seven tins of pastels and other shades of paint, the aid of Organathoran the painter, and sufficient medication to keep a horse in slumberland for a week.

  He was just drawing up the last of it and was about to check on the woman (to make sure she had not woken up again), when Oster and Archie returned. A crowd of other gnomes clustered around them as Archie described something in glowing detail, making swing-of-a-sword gestures with his hands.

  Kali met the pair at the door and Oster presented the gnome with a small package containing the herbs and other items they had gathered from the wild. At his side he had another, larger bundle. The human gave Kali a small, almost embarrassed smile, but all eyes were on Archie, who was gesticulating wildly.