The Adventures of Duncan & Mallory

by Robert Asprin

  At one point he’d been sure that after this winter he’d never want to see another turnip as long as he lived. Then as the pile got low and the ground outside was still covered with snow he started to worry about not having enough turnips. After that he started savoring every bite of turnip he got.

  The proof that they had been stuck inside way too long with too little variety in their diet was punctuated when Duncan made what he called chili beans. Under-cooked beans with some spice slung in it with chunks of fish and they both ate it and talked about what a nice change of pace it was.

  Mallory had swallowed his pride and was now not only wearing Duncan’s old pants but one of his old tunics as well. He knew what he must look like; he just didn’t care.

  He didn’t really start to worry about how the cabin fever was affecting Duncan’s sanity till the human nearly begged Fred to work at scaring him. In fact, his exact words were, “Do your evil best, demon!”

  “Oh it’s on, monkey boy,” the demon hissed back in his tiny voice.

  The very next day they ate the last of the turnips and started to talk about whether they had enough wood to last the rest of the winter.

  They had been rationing how much they burned which was one of the reasons Mallory had given in and started wearing clothes. After all, they’d only had three days to gather wood before the snow fell.

  While they’d gone out when they could, with the snow as deep as it was it was hard to find deadfall. It was harder still to chop down trees and cut them up with the sword. They still had coal, but they were trying to save it for when they got the part fixed. While Mallory admitted his fire could help occasionally he couldn’t just sit around belching and lighting it all day to heat their space.

  “Eventually I run out of gas,” he’d explained to Duncan, “even with our bean and turnip-heavy diet.”

  * * * *

  They were down to one emaciated stack of wood and were talking about burning the coal and then maybe their stump chairs when the sun came out—bright. Soon after that the wind stopped blowing and the snow started to melt. Water ran across the landscape, digging holes through the snow, till by day three the whole place looked like a giant spider web.

  They ran out and gathered more wood, sloshing through the water, snow and mud. Mallory kicked his foot in the air, dislodging a clump of mud before walking onto the ship. He dumped his load of wood on the deck.

  “Soon now,” Duncan said, following Mallory in and dumping his wood in the same pile. “Soon we’ll be able to put ‘Operation Take All the Blacksmith’s Money and Fix Our Boat’ into full swing, and then we can get out of here.”

  “Way before next winter,” Mallory added, his face knotted up in thought. “We have got to have a better name for our operation. A superb plan deserves an excellent handle.”

  “It was the first thing I came up with. So sue me,” Duncan grumbled.

  They both thought on it while they broke up deadwood into furnace-size pieces. They were making a huge mess, having brought snow and mud and everything else in on the logs. All Mallory could think was that cleaning up their mess would give them something to do.

  “What about ‘Operation Get Outta Here’?” Duncan asked.

  “Too pedestrian,” Mallory said.

  “What does that mean?” Duncan asked, a bit put out.

  “It means idiots can understand it.”

  The look on the human’s face said he didn’t know whether he should feel insulted or not. Then he said, “What about ‘Operation Fix Thingy’?”

  “We need something that sounds clever and a little heroic.” Mallory thought about it then smiled. “I’ve got it. ‘Operation Blacksmith Down’.”

  “How come everything you come up with is always so much better than anything I come up with?”

  “I don’t know, Dunc, why is that?”

  “Jerk,” Duncan mumbled.

  “‘Operation Blacksmith Down’ it is then.”

  “It’s a stupid name.”

  * * * *

  As the last of the snow melted Duncan put on the new tunic and pants he’d made himself. They of course mostly looked just like his old clothes. After all he liked red and tan, so he’d bought red and tan cloth. Since the only pattern he had to work with was taken from his old clothes, he was wearing a red tunic and tan britches.

  He loaded his pack and started for town with his one coin in his pocket. It wouldn’t buy much and they were low on everything. But his main reason for going was not to buy supplies.

  He tried to act surprised, but he really wasn’t when the dragon appeared just as he was about to leave with two coins and a story. “I found these while we were cleaning.”

  Duncan glared at him. “And it didn’t cross your mind to say anything till now.” The dragon just smiled and shrugged.

  “Just how much more money do you have squirreled away?”

  “Why, Dunc! I can’t possibly tell you how hurt I am. Mostly because you need to get going.” Mallory shoved him down the gangplank. “Have a good day casing the town.”

  Duncan started walking. After a moment he turned and the dragon smiled and waved. Duncan glared at him then added the two coins to his pouch and started walking double time.

  I wonder just how much money Mallory actually does have, and just where he’s hiding it. Because of course during the long winter when he’d had nothing better to do Duncan had searched every inch of that boat—including Mallory’s vest. He’d never found any money.

  Duncan started pushing the empty wheelbarrow along. Surely Mallory doesn’t have enough to pay the crooked blacksmith his price, or he wouldn’t have let us winter here. Maybe this is the last two coins he has. If we’d run out of supplies he sure would have felt funny holding them back.

  He had only a little trouble finding his old marks, and then the trail was easy to follow, no doubt because he’d been down it twice already. He walked as fast as he could and reached the road before midday.

  He had hoped to make really good time on the road, but it was nothing but deep ruts and heavy clay that clung to his boots and the wheel of the wheelbarrow. He wound up walking most of the way in the woods just to the side of the road. The ground was soft there, but a thick leaf cover kept him from sinking past his knees in the mud.

  The town was just as he remembered it except for the red mud that seemed to be everywhere. By the time he reached the store his boots and the wheel of the wheelbarrow were caked with several inches of red clay. He stopped on the front porch and started scraping the mud from his boots on the bottom step. He left the dirty wheelbarrow on the front porch and walked in.

  The floor inside the store was covered in the red gunk. He wondered why he’d bothered to scrape his shoes off at all.

  Sam recognized him right away. “I see you survived our winter.”

  Duncan nodded and said, “I’ve brought your wheelbarrow back, though I’m afraid it’s a bit muddy.”

  The shop keep laughed. “Son, this time of year Hellsbut ain’t never nothing but mud. Freeze-thaw makes the ground turn to mush. Don’t worry about it. Always takes us a couple of weeks after the last thaw for things to dry out.”

  “Is it worth my time to even talk to the blacksmith about his prices? Has the winter softened him at all, do you think?”

  The same two old men who’d been playing checkers in the window the last time he was there were there again. Duncan guessed Sam was right about them practically living there.

  Felix looked up at him and said, “Are you kidding me? Boy, winter only drives his prices up. He doesn’t work most of the winter. He tries to make up for it by charging even more while everyone is trying to get their seed in. He knows no one can afford to have their equipment be down at planting time. The man’s a pig I tell ya.”

  “Why if I was a younger man I’d show him what for,” Mort said.

  “Listen to you,” Felix said. “When you were a younger man a good stiff breeze still would have blown you away. You wouldn’t ha
ve done nothing. Nothing I tell you would you have done.”

  Felix and Mort started arguing, so Duncan turned his attention back to Sam.

  “Don’t know what I’m going to do about the part then,” Duncan said. “I can’t go anywhere without it. I’m down to my last three coins and I need more supplies than I can afford. Is there no one in this town who can build another forge?”

  “Folks have tried, but an unfortunate accident always befalls them or their forge. Have I mentioned Earl has three huge worth-nothing sons?”

  “Nothing but bully boys if you ask me,” Felix chimed in.

  “Someone ought to show Earl and his three idgits what for,” Mort said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Felix said shaking his head.

  “Do you have anything of worth you could trade him?” Sam asked Duncan.

  Duncan almost smiled. This was the question he’d been waiting for. The one he’d put the bait out for. “My boat. But without that.… Well I don’t need him, do I? There is my armor and my sword but without them I’ll not be able to make a living if I do get out of here.”

  “Just what is it you do for a living, son?” Sam asked curiously. “Are you a mercenary?”

  “I’ll pay you today to get rid of Earl and his boys,” Mort said.

  “No sir, I’m no mercenary. You may think it sounds silly, because from what you’ve said, I’m guessing you don’t have a problem with them in your sector, but I’m a dragon hunter. Dragons still cause trouble here and there from time to time, and I travel the river helping towns in need. Up till now I’ve made a fine living, but last year very few people had any real dragon problems. It seems more and more dragons are going into accounting and less and less are into terrorizing and sacking villages. Which is good, I suppose, for everyone except me. Well, I’d best get what I can and head back. I don’t really know what to tell my family. At least the fishing has been good.”

  He worked at looking as low as any man could look. He got some more spices, beans, cornmeal and coffee he added, “I better get home. I can’t believe such a mean-spirited old bugger could run a whole town and make so many people miserable. Is there no stopping him? Does he just own everything except this store?”

  As easy as that, they were all telling him just what Earl owned and where it was.

  “You have to remember I’m a stranger around here. I don’t have any idea where you’re talking about.”

  “Let me make you a map,” Felix said. And just like that the old man hunted up a piece of paper and a pencil. Naturally Duncan happened to take that map with him when he left.

  He nearly skipped home, feeling very full of himself. Step one of ‘Operation Blacksmith Down’ had been a complete success.

  * * * *

  Mallory rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He gave the map one more good look then handed it back to Duncan.

  “You got it?” Duncan asked him for the tenth time.

  “I’ve got it, Dunc, I’ve got it. For the eleventh time, I’ve got it. Sheesh!”

  “I just don’t want you sacking the wrong thing. These people have enough trouble from that blacksmith without you torching their stuff.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Dunc, just don’t get caught sneaking around.”

  “I won’t.” Duncan put up the hood on the new cloak he’d made himself. The hood had been Mallory’s idea, because as he put it, it did more than keep Duncan’s tiny head warm.

  The human would wait a few minutes before sneaking into town because Mallory figured no one was likely to notice Duncan sulking around while Mallory was doing his thing.

  The road was still rutted but mostly dry. Mallory looked around to make sure Duncan was out of sight and then he ran for the edge of town.

  A fellow came towards him with a hoe slung over his shoulder, whistling, and obviously not watching where he was going. Mallory slowed his pace to match the man’s till the man saw Mallory’s feet.

  The man stopped, took in the feet, then looked up and up and up Mallory’s body. Before his eyes reached Mallory’s head, the man started shaking uncontrollably, apparently unable to speak or move. Mallory bared his teeth, showing their full length—something he saved for special occasions. Then he blew a small flame out of his mouth and let the smoke pour out his nostrils. He followed that with a small roar.

  The man dropped his hoe, turned in one step, and took off running and yelling at the top of his lungs, “Dragon! Dragon!”

  Mallory made a big show of chasing after him, roaring and occasionally spitting some fire at the man’s heels. When they hit the edge of town the guy headed off one way and Mallory headed in the other direction towards his first intended target.

  * * * *

  Earl had been working at his forge and thinking of what else his money could buy when Thomas came running up looking white and screaming something. More irritated than anything else, Earl quit pounding the metal he was working and set his hammer and work aside. He walked up to the front of his shed.

  “See here, Thomas, I’m trying to work. What on earth are you going on about?”

  “Dragon! Huge! Big! Fire breathing! Claws and teeth of death and…. Dragon!”

  “Clam down. Whatever are you going on about? There hasn’t been a dragon in these parts for fifty years, maybe longer. You want the whole town to take to the streets in a panic?” Earl said, agitated. “Did you actually see something or did you get into Leroy’s turnip wine?”

  “Huge dragon…big teeth…breathing fire. Big! Big! Big!” Thomas got out and then without further explanation he just took off running again.

  Earl was about to blow off the whole incident and go back to work when he heard a distant roar followed by screams of terror. Then, over to his right he saw flames and could hear pigs squealing. Before he had time to run towards the commotion, Thomas came running back past him in the opposite direction. He was screaming, “Dragon! Heading this way!”

  Earl left his shop and was almost run over by a couple of big hogs. Right behind them was a huge, blue dragon. It ran towards him breathing fire and baring its razor-sharp teeth dripping with spit.

  Earl froze right where he was, unable to move, and the dragon was soon only feet from him. If he hadn’t had his leather apron on the fireball that hit him in his chest would have no doubt fried him. Instead it just knocked him on his back and seared his eyebrows.

  The thing was gone as quickly as it had come.

  The blacksmith jumped up and ran towards the fire, right into a stampede of frightened hogs. He was thrown one way and another till he lost his footing all together and landed with a thud and splash in a mud puddle. The pigs proceeded to take a course right over his body, as if not wanting to get their feet wet.

  As he struggled up, spitting mud and worse from his mouth, he realized the fire had to be his own pigsty. The one he had so cleverly built next to the grocer’s house. With any luck the grocer’s house would go up as well. As he got closer it was clear that the grocer’s house was untouched while Earl’s fence had been completely destroyed. Not one of his pigs was in what was left of the pen. The pig house was already nearly burned to the ground.

  To make matters worse, every person in town was standing around watching the building burn and the pigs run off. No one was making any effort to round up his pigs or start a bucket brigade.

  “See here people, get some water. Put that fire out. The rest of you go after those pigs,” he ordered.

  No one moved.

  “There’s no building left to save. It would be better to let it burn,” someone in the crowd said. Earl didn’t know who it was, but he did have a point.

  “We got bigger things to worry about, mayor,” Sam said with no effort at all to hide his contempt. “That dragon could have just as easily killed us all and burned down our homes instead of your pig sty. You’re the mayor. What are you going to do to protect this town from that dragon?”

  “What about that young fellow with the broken boat?” Felix asked. “
He said he’s a dragon killer.”

  “Anyone know how to find him?” Mort asked.

  “Well we know he’s along the river somewhere,” Sam said.

  “Hold on here just a minute, fellows. Ain’t no reason to go looking for no dragon-huntin’ stranger. Man like that’s going to want to be paid and paid plenty.”

  “It’s the sort of thing we pay taxes for, mayor,” Sam said. “I say we spend that money and get rid of this dragon.”

  “Don’t be so hasty. There’s no reason to believe the dragon will come back,” Earl insisted.

  “There’s no reason to believe he won’t,” the widow Boil said. “What’s all that money for if not to protect the town?” From the way the crowd mumbled they were all thinking pretty much the same thing.

  “Look, if that dragon comes back we’ll be ready for him. I’ll put my sons on lookout around the clock for the next few days. If there’s any trouble, we can all band together, take up weapons, and take care of the matter without any outside help.”

  “We don’t have any weapons because some conniving blacksmith makes sure we spend all our money fixing our farm equipment.” Earl looked around but couldn’t see who had said it. What he could see was that the crowd was turning ugly. He started to sweat just a bit.

  “This guy is a professional dragon killer. It’s what he does. And because you wouldn’t fix his part for less than an arm and two legs he’s still around here somewhere. All we have to do is find him,” Sam said. “I say we track him down and pay him whatever he wants to kill this dragon.”

  Duncan worked hard at not snickering over how his last comment had riled the crowd. This was every bit as easy as Mallory had said it would be.

  “Now see here, people, where is your civic pride? I’m sure if we all stand against him, pitchforks in hand, that dragon will go running for the hills,” the blacksmith said.