by Rick Cook
He pointed at the trough. "What's this stuff?"
"Cement, My Lord. It's a little thin because . . ."
Wiz cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Okay, you're going to take this cement and you're going to paint a coat of it onto Pieter here. All over, so he's thoroughly covered. Then, when it's dry, you're going to load him into the wagon, take him back to town and set him up in the square in front of the town hall. Got that?"
"The wagon's broke," Larry said sullenly.
"Then carry him," Wiz said and turned away into the night. He took two steps and then turned back to them. "But if he's not standing in the square by noon, you're all going to be pigeon roosts by evening."
He took two more steps and turned back again.
"Oh, and one more thing."
The three quailed before him.
"Which way is it to town?"
God what an evening, Wiz thought as he trudged down the dusty road toward town. The moon gave enough light to keep him on the road and out of potholes, but not enough to see every rock and tree root. As a result he had stubbed his toes and bruised his heels a half dozen times before he had gone as much as a mile.
The only good thing is, it's too late for anything else to happen to me tonight.
Just then a shadow passed over the moon. Wiz looked up to see a dragon settling down on a hillock beside the road. The moon was behind the creature so it loomed nightmarishly large and black before him.
"Starting a new fashion, Wizard?" Wurm's "voice" rang in his head.
"Right now I'm trying to get back to town."
"Still, this is opportune. I have been meaning to speak to you at a time and place which would not upset your, ah, clients."
Wiz had a sudden premonition the night's events so far had just been a warm-up. "What do you want?" he asked wearily.
"An opportunity to discuss your progress, and perhaps your future actions. I understand for example that you personally convinced one dragon to give up his prey. That in itself is a notable accomplishment."
"Ah, to tell you the truth it wasn't that difficult. Not with that particular dragon."
Wurm nodded his enormous head. "Griswold is a moron. Even for a hatchling."
"Well, at least my run-in with him helped get me in solid with the council."
"Oh, you have accomplished more than that," Wurm said, amused. "In two days there will be a dragonmote to decide what to do about you."
"Dragonmote?"
"A meeting of dragons, or of all who choose to attend." He cocked his enormous scaly head. "Quite an honor actually. The first dragonmote in several hundred years. Dragons dislike gatherings and prefer single combat to the constant clumping and bickering of humans. Besides, dragons seldom feel the need to take concerted action."
Suddenly it got even colder under the horse blanket. "Concerted action?"
Wurm nodded again. "I believe the currently favored solution is incinerating the town and you with it."
"Is this where I came in?" Then he thought furiously. "Look, can you get me in to that meeting? To speak to them I mean."
Wurm cocked his enormous head. "I think it can be arranged." The way he said it left Wiz no doubt that had been his plan all along.
Twenty-three: Dragonmote
The number of screw-ups in a presentation is directly proportional to the importance of the audience and inversely proportional to their belief in what you're selling.
—The Consultants' Handbook
Never meddle in the affairs of dragons, for they are subtle and see right through bullshit.
—Marginalia in a copy of
The Consultants' Handbook
The place was a narrow chasm between two towering sandstone cliffs. When it rained the sandy bottom was probably under several feet of water. About twenty feet of water, Wiz judged from the bits of driftwood and debris caught in cracks and ledges up the wall. He devoutly hoped it didn't rain while the dragonmote was in progress.
Not that it would matter to the dragons. They dropped in through the narrow crack of sky above and settled themselves along the cliff faces, hanging head-down like bats.
The smell of snake and sulfur was well-nigh overpowering and garbled bits of dragon speech rang in his head.
With a minimum of hissing and squabbling the dragons settled into their places. There didn't seem to be any strict hierarchy, but the larger, older dragons clearly got the best seats in the house.
A smallish dragon slipped in through the crack of sky, but instead of choosing a spot on the sandstone walls, it dropped down onto the sand next to Wiz. All dragons looked pretty much alike to Wiz but as soon as the creature "spoke" Wiz recognized Griswold.
"You cheated me!" the young dragon said. "Cheated me out of my rightful prey. That spell you showed me was a phony."
"No it wasn't."
"But it doesn't do anything!" Griswold protested.
"I never said that it did," Wiz said blandly.
"But, but, but . . ." Griswold did a fair imitation of a turkey gobbling. Wiz just smiled sweetly.
The young dragon drew back his head as if to say something else, but Wiz shushed him as the meeting came to order.
"This mortal is here under my protection," Wurm declared as the dragons settled in. "Are there any objections?" There was a certain amount of shifting and hissing, but apparently no one objected strongly enough to try to tackle Wurm.
There was no introduction. The dragons fell silent and stared at Wiz, waiting for him to begin.
Wiz gestured and his equipment appeared. It included an overhead projector, complete with a green demon to operate it, a screen, and a large easel holding flip charts. Beats heck out of lugging this stuff down the hall, he thought. He picked up the pointer lying on the easel and launched into his prepared spiel.
"Uh, good afternoon ladies and, uh, well dragons. My name is . . ."
"We know who you are," a steely voice rang in his head. "Get on with it."
"Certainly, Mr. ah . . ."
"Ralfnir," came the cold voice. Looking up and to his right Wiz identified the "speaker" as a dragon nearly as large as Wurm and just as ferocious looking.
"First slide, please. Now, as you can see here . . ."
The demon flipped on the projector and a gorgeous rainbow-tinted slide appeared on the screen. It was not, however, the title slide. Wiz didn't recognize it at all. Then he looked harder and realized it was in upside down. At least it seemed to be upside down. Since it was titled in Japanese it was hard for Wiz to tell.
"Uh, next slide please. Now, as you can see here . . ." He stopped. This one was the Miss July picture from the presentation to the council. Trying to look at the slide from the dragons' perspective, Wiz realized her pose and lack of clothing made her resemble something on a buffet. The dragons seemed mightily unimpressed.
"Uh, next chart please."
Finally, mercifully, the demon got the right slide.
"Now as you can see . . ." But that was as far as he got. Ralfnir drew back his head and aimed an incandescent blast of dragon fire down at him.
The world blinked as Wiz's protection spell cut in. When it cut out Wiz found himself standing beside a heap of smoking ashes holding the charred stub of a pointer. Behind him the reflected heat from the canyon wall warmed his back unpleasantly.
Damn. There have been times I've wanted to do that to a presenter.
"Ah, perhaps it would be better if I dispensed with the visual aids," he said weakly.
"Now," said another frigid, metallic "voice," "tell us something we wish to hear or begone."
Always stress the advantages to the client. But he couldn't think of any.
"All right," he said desperately. "I'm here today to talk to you about a matter of mutual concern between humans and dragons."
"Not all dragons think there is a problem with humans," Ralfnir put in, looking at Wurm. "Humans multiply and dragons eat them."
Wiz got the strong impression that Ralfnir and Wurm were riva
ls in some way. The very fact that Wurm was sponsoring him seemed to make Ralfnir oppose him.
"You have until now," Wiz said. "But things are changing among the humans."
"Oh yes," Ralfnir said, "the 'new magic' we have heard of. Why should we fear anything you humans do?"
"It's already defeated two of you," Wiz said levelly.
"That's a lie!" Griswold "shouted" so loud Wiz flinched. "I was hornswoggled, not defeated."
There was a ripple of laughter from the other dragons. Griswold bridled with rage, but Wurm checked him with an easy gesture of his wingtip. The young dragon subsided, glaring murderously at Wiz.
"The point is," Wiz went on, "that humans are much more potent magically than they have been. It would be in all our interests for dragons to recognize that and to renegotiate your contract with humans."
That produced a babble of dragon speech that made Wiz's head ring. Finally Ralfnir cut through the din.
"Nonsense!" he roared. "I have no 'contract' with humans." There was another head-splitting chorus of assent from the dragons up and down the canyon walls.
Gradually the noise, both acoustic and mental, died away. "Not all of us are afraid of humans," Ralfnir continued, turning his head to look at Wurm. "Dragons dealt with your kind for ages and dragons will deal with them for ages more. Magic or no, dragons will continue to handle humans as it pleases us to do so."
"That won't be as easy with the new magic," Wiz said.
"So far, your 'new magic' has only disturbed Shulfnim at his nap." He paused and nodded toward Griswold. "Oh yes, and bested that one."
Griswold's renewed protest was cut off by a roar of dragonish mirth. The other dragons flapped their wings and slapped their tails against the rock to show approval.
Ralfnir waited for the noise to die again before he went on. "I do not think we have to fear such powers as these."
"This was just a taste," Wiz warned. "The new human magic is very powerful. You will have to reckon with it or I cannot be responsible for the consequences."
"If humans interfere with us," came another steely voice, "it will be we who are responsible for the consequences—to the humans."
Another cacophony of approval with more wing flapping and tail slapping burst out from the assembled dragons.
"But if you look at the long-term trend . . ." Wiz began, but Ralfnir cut him short.
"A human talks to dragons about the long term? We who live for age upon age?"
Wiz gathered his remaining courage and tried again. "Even dragons can die," he pointed out. "They can be killed by magic and humans now have magic that can, ah, severely limit your scope of action."
"Then prove it," Ralfnir said. "Show me the power of this new magic you think of so highly."
"I'll be glad to demonstrate," Wiz said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized he had made a mistake. "Uh, what did you have in mind?"
"Why," Ralfnir purred, "if this new magic is so dangerous to us, surely you cannot object to a simple duel."
Having no lips, dragons cannot smile. But Ralfnir did an excellent imitation, drooping his lids over his golden eyes and opening his mouth slightly to run a blood-red forked tongue over his gleaming ivory fangs.
Wiz looked at Wurm but the great dragon remained impassive. The chasm had gone very, very quiet.
"Okay," Wiz lied. "How about tomorrow?"
Their business concluded, the dragons left the canyon like a cloud of startled bats. At last only Wurm and Wiz remained.
"It was perhaps unwise to challenge Ralfnir to a duel," the dragon said in a tone of mild reproof.
"Did anyone ever mention your genius for understatement?" Wiz said sourly.
"This was not your object, then?"
"No. I was suckered. What now?"
Wurm seemed surprised by the question. "Why, that is up to you. You can fight him or not."
"Any advice?"
"Advice? That would be presumptuous indeed of me. You must do as you think best."
Wiz thought Wurm had been presumptuous as hell already by getting him into this mess. However he didn't see any point in saying so.
"But if I fight him and he kills me, I haven't solved the problem."
Wurm considered. "Your death would be a solution of sorts."
For an instant Wiz wondered if this entire episode might have been Wurm's elaborate plot to get him to commit suicide. He dismissed that as unnecessarily baroque, even for a dragon.
"I don't suppose I could talk him out of this?"
Wurm cocked his enormous head. "Unlikely. The challenge was formally issued and accepted. Now it is a matter of honor." He paused, as if considering. "True, there is not much honor to be gained by killing a single human, but Ralfnir enjoys sport for its own sake."
"But if I win do I have a deal?"
"Why should you? If you win you will only eliminate Ralfnir."
"Then what's the point?"
"No point, really," Wurm said, "unless you like slaying dragons as much as Ralfnir likes slaying humans. I told you before, Wizard, dragons do not form groups as humans do. There is none who can speak for all of us."
"So why should I even show up for this duel?"
Wurm gave a mental "shrug." "Perhaps no reason at all. Save that if you do not Ralfnir will undoubtedly hunt you down and quite likely burn down that town you humans are so fond of in the process."
"And if I do face him?"
"If you win you have nothing to fear from him. If you lose—" again the "shrug" "—he will probably not bother with the town."
"Great. And if I do beat him, I'll still have to best every single other dragon in order to get them to leave the people alone?"
Wurm paused, as if considering. "Probably not. I imagine that after you have slain forty or fifty dragons most of the rest will decide humans are not worth bothering with." He cocked his head. "It would be an effective strategy, were you able to carry it out."
"There's gotta be a better way," Wiz muttered.
"If there is I would suggest you endeavor to find it," Wurm said. "It would be best if you found it ere dawn tomorrow."
"I'm working on it," Wiz told the dragon and turned to start down the canyon.
"Oh, and Wizard . . ." Wurm's "voice" rang in his head.
Wiz turned back to the dragon.
"Do not count on your ring of protection. Even a hatchling could defeat that spell."
"Thanks," Wiz mumbled, and turned his face again toward town.
Twenty-four: Net Gains
The essence of successful consulting is knowing when to bail out.
—The Consultants' Handbook
Wiz spent most of the night staring at the screen and doodling meaningless bits of code. He knew he should be coming up with some dynamite dragon-killing spell, but instead he kept reviewing the spells he did have.
Let's see. I've got lightning bolts . . . probably not much good against a dragon . . . suck energy . . . maybe that would do something . . . frictionless surface . . . nope, not against a flying creature . . . attract fleas . . . I wonder if dragons get fleas? Occasionally he would compound something out of the spells at his command, combining the old spells to be called in sequence or simultaneously by a single code word. He spent rather more time working on a fire-protection spell that looked pretty good. But mostly he just sat at the terminal and stared into space.
Time and again his fingers would stretch to the keyboard and he would start the sequence to reach the Wizard's Keep over the Internet. Time and again he hesitated and his hands dropped away. He knew he wasn't thinking clearly but trying to think more clearly only made things less clear. Like trying to squeeze a handful of jelly, he thought morosely.
Anna spent the night sleeping the sleep of the completely unworried—or the really stupid, which may have been the same thing in her case. Bobo spent the night doing tomcat things. No one knew how Widder Hackett spent the night except that she wasn't talking to Wiz.
The only really a
ctive one in the house was Malkin. She spent most of the hours before first light gathering up the booty she had secreted about the place. Even though she'd turned most of it to gold coins through One-Eyed Nicolai it still made a substantial load.
Live for some time on that, she thought as she swept the last of the gold into a leather sack. Time to move on anyway. I was tired of this town. The prospect wasn't very satisfying somehow and Malkin realized it wasn't just because this was where she had been born. With a sigh of frustration she dropped the bag on the table. It toppled and spilled a cascade of coins onto the tabletop. Malkin didn't bother to sweep them back into the bag.
Restless, she wandered down to the kitchen to get something to eat. Once she descended the narrow steps she found she wasn't hungry. Maybe a cup of hot mulled wine would help her sleep.
She busied herself blowing up the fire and drawing wine from the small cask on the sideboard. She took down a lovingly polished saucepan and put in the wine with cinnamon, cloves and other spices to steep over the still barely glowing coals.
"Smells good," came a voice behind her. "Can I have some?"
Malkin whirled and there was Wiz, dressed for traveling with cloak and staff.
"Startled me," the tall girl said. "But yeah, there's plenty."
"On second thought I'd better not. I'll need a clear head this morning." He didn't sound at all confident.
Malkin ladled out a cup of the hot, spiced wine. "Getting an early start eh?"
"No sense in postponing things." Malkin just nodded and sat down at the table.
For several minutes neither of them said anything or moved, Malkin drinking her wine at the table and Wiz standing on the stairs.
"Look," he said at last. "I'm not much good at these things, but I just wanted you to know that you've really helped me here. And I wanted to thank you for that."
Malkin only nodded, not trusting her voice.
Wiz sighed heavily. "Well, I'd better get going if I'm going to make the spot by sunup. Thanks again."
"Good luck Wizard. And thank you." Then she stared down into her wine cup so Wiz couldn't see her tears.