Charmed Destinies

by Mercedes Lackey

  6

  “So you write straining loins and centers of her desire, huh?” Drusilla said.

  “That would be it, yes,” Miles replied. “Molten, quivering nubs and passionate gasps as fireworks explode in night skies.”

  Something in his voice told her that while he’d played along, he wasn’t thrilled with the joke. Her laugh died in midstream. “I’m sorry.”

  He waved a hand. “Everyone does it. I’m used to it.”

  “No. I insulted your work.”

  “Nah. It’s just a hobby.”

  “It’s your dream,” she said. “Dreams matter.”

  “Yes. I suppose they do. But for now, we have to find a way to beat that Kolakul and climb Mount Ayth, so we can capture that Behemoth and save your father’s kingdom. There’ll be plenty of time to think about dreams later.”

  He had closed a door, she realized. He’d opened a part of himself that he rarely revealed, and she’d replied in exactly the wrong way. The door was now closed, and he was pure business. She wanted to apologize. She ached to reach out to him and say how much she admired his dream, to listen to him talk about it. But she’d blown that chance.

  “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go battle the Kolakul.”

  The canyon snaked around in a large loop, and the growls grew louder with every passing step. Drusilla couldn’t resist a slight shiver. Battling monsters was all fine and good in theory. The fast-approaching reality might be something else altogether. Her hand moved to the hilt of her sword.

  “You won’t need that,” Miles said. “The Kolakul rarely responds to force.”

  “What does it respond to?”

  He shrugged. “That, Princess, is one of the great mysteries of life. Wizards through the ages have studied that question and never reached an answer.”

  “Okay. So what’s the plan, then?”

  “We feed it coins and pray for divine intervention.”

  “Some plan,” she said.

  “I tame Behemoths, not Kolakuls.”

  Although their horses were nearly touching, they might as well have been miles apart. They rode on in silence, listening to the Kolakul’s derisive laughter echoing off the canyon walls.

  Finally they rounded another corner and the beast stood before them in all its terrifying fury. Taller than a man, broad as a horse, it emitted a siren’s call, a glow from an inner light, as if to say I dare you. Drusilla studied it for a long moment, then reached into her bag.

  “I have two large silvers and one small silver. The rest is all in the king’s scrip.”

  “It sometimes takes scrip,” he said. “We can try, at least.”

  She peeled out a piece of paper that bore the king’s picture and slid it into the Kolakul’s mouth. The Kolakul spat it back as if it were day-old gruel.

  “Try smoothing it out,” Miles suggested.

  Drusilla carefully smoothed out the paper and tried again. Once again, the Kolakul spat it back.

  “Maybe if I turn it over,” she said.

  Same answer.

  “Another page of scrip?” he suggested.

  She went through each of the five pieces of paper in her bag. Same response. She stuffed the paper back in the bag. “I guess it’s in a mood.”

  “I guess so. You said you had two large silvers and one small?”

  “Yup.” She held out the coins in her palm.

  He nodded and dug into a pocket. “I have two smalls and a bunch of coppers, but it hates copper. Hates it.”

  “Well, between the two of us, we have enough silver.”

  “True.”

  He handed her the coins, and she was just about to feed them to the monster when it seemed to blink out to her mind with a psychic message.

  Exact change only.

  Oh, now this is absurd, Drusilla thought, fighting the urge to break out laughing at her desk. Was this the best she could come up with? She took a sip of her soda and plunged back into her work.

  One by one, she fed the coins into the monster’s mouth. It swallowed each coin with a quiet, thunking gulp. Now came the moment of truth, when she beseeched it to lay one of its eggs. She reached out and gently touched one of its eyes.

  Nothing.

  “Damn,” she said.

  “Maybe another kind of egg,” Miles said, touching another of its eyes.

  Nothing.

  They took turns pressing its other eyes, with ever-increasing force.

  Nothing.

  Finally, Drusilla stabbed the bottom eye. It wasn’t the egg she would have preferred, but it would have to do.

  The Kolakul made another of its low, rumbling laughs…but didn’t lay the egg.

  “Well, hell,” he said. “Maybe force will be required, after all.”

  He grabbed the monster and gave it a hard shake.

  Nothing.

  He kicked.

  Nothing.

  He cursed.

  Of course, nothing.

  Slap.

  Nothing.

  Lean.

  Nothing.

  “We’re getting nowhere,” Drusilla said. “Maybe it’s sick. Do Kolakuls get sick?”

  “This one sure isn’t well,” he said.

  He was just preparing to give it a good, hard kick when an overpowering stench filled the area. They turned to see Krusti Olfard, standing there with his stink wand, a pitying, patronizing smile on his face.

  “It’s broke,” Krusti said.

  “Well, duh!” Drusilla answered. “It would’ve been nice to know that before I gave up all my silver.”

  “All of our silver,” Miles interjected.

  “You and everyone else,” Krusti said without a hint of sympathy. “You’re all so damn smart you can’t read.”

  With that, he stuck his stink wand in his mouth, emitting another cloud of noxious fumes, and pointed to the hand-lettered sign taped to the top of the Kolakul.

  Out Of Order.

  Drusilla wanted to cry. There was no way they could reach the top of Mount Ayth without an egg. Krusti looked her over. The look began as a leer but softened when he saw her eyes.

  “What is it?” he said.

  The story tumbled out. “We have to climb Mount Ayth, tame the Behemoth, find the Key of Morgania and save my father’s kingdom.”

  “And we have to do it before the day comes,” Miles added. “And we really need a Kolakul egg.”

  “Well, everybody needs something,” Krusti said. “Ain’t that the way of life?”

  Drusilla drew up to her full, regal height and stared the wizard straight in the gray hair that spilled out the neck of his robe. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a cantankerous, vile—”

  “—
smelly,” Miles cut in.

  “Crusty old fart?” the wizard concluded. He blew another foul plume from the stink wand. “Hell, yeah. Every day. But then again, I’m not out a bunch of silver to a sick monster.”

  He had a point. Wizards usually did.

  “Can you help us?” she asked, batting her princess eyes. “It’s very important.”

  “Ain’t important to me,” he said.

  “I can pay,” she said.

  The wizard laughed. It was a gap-toothed laugh. “Now you’re talking my language.”

  She handed him two pieces of scrip. He merely blew on his stink wand. She handed over another, choking. He blew again. She gasped, gagged and handed him the last two. He seemed to check her bag before finally nodding and pulling out a huge ring of magical keys, one of which fit neatly into the Kolakul’s belly button.

  The Kolakul seemed to split open and half a dozen half-delivered eggs tumbled out onto the floor. Miles reached for one and Krusti let out a snort.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said. “The Mopenwachs has already flowed through here tonight, and I’m not gonna turn it back around just because you people are too dumb to know what happens with shaken Kolakul eggs.”

  He reached into the monster and pulled out an egg, handing it to Drusilla. “There. Satisfied?”

  “Most expensive egg I’ve ever had,” she said, her fingertip dancing an irritated staccato on the top of the egg. “You’re no different from a highwayman.”

  Krusti shrugged. “What can I say? Wizarding the River Mopenwachs around doesn’t pay a whole lot, and I owe my bookie. Consider it your good deed for the day.”

  She reached for her sword, but Miles put a hand on her arm. “He’s not worth it. Let’s take the egg and go.”

  “My father will have words with you,” she said, fire in her voice. “You just wait.”

  Krusti blew on the stink wand again. “Better your dad than my bookie. Have a good trip.”

  “Two more hours,” Cal said. “What a dull night.”

  “Yeah, it pretty much has been,” Drusilla replied, tossing the empty soda can in the trash bin beneath her desk. “Not at all what I’d hoped for.”

  “Well, you could always download a virus so the cute systems guy will come back.”

  “Puh-leeze,” she said. “That’s the last thing I need.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Cal…”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll say no more. But if it were me and I’d been grinding away all night with hardly a moment’s break, I’d consider taking a walk. Maybe climb some stairs. To refresh myself for the last push. But that’s just me.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s just you.”

  But he did have a point, she thought. Her back was awfully sore, as it always was after endless hours in this chair. A walk wouldn’t be the worst idea ever. Just to shake out the kinks. That was all. Really.

  Refreshed, they were ready to begin the slow climb up Mouth Ayth. The way was steep and narrow, twisting around and back on itself again and again. They had to lead the horses, who couldn’t have managed such a climb carrying riders. By a third of the way up, Drusilla’s calves were starting to burn.

  “Long climb,” she said.

  “You get used to it,” Miles replied.

  “You do this a lot?”

  He nodded. “The teleport chamber is usually full, or busy, or delayed. And I need the exercise.”

  “You’ve been to the top of Mouth Ayth?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” he said, smiling. “I live up there. Alone, on the top of a mountain.”

  “Don’t you get…lonely?” she asked.

  “Sometimes. But it also gives me time to write.”

  She smiled. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  “Mostly. Call me the Behemoth-taming introvert.”

  Drusilla laughed. “I could just use the acronym—BTI—but that sounds like a government agency or a trash pickup company.” She paused. “I mean, if we had government agencies or trash pickup companies in this world. So…tell me more about what you’re writing?”

  He looked down. “You really don’t want to know. It’s…silly.”

  “Try me.”

  “Well, um, it’s a story about a guy and a girl who work in the same building, but he can’t muster up the courage to talk to her face-to-face, so they get to know each other by telling a story on interoffice chat.”

  No! Drusilla thought. That was not what was happening here. First, she wasn’t chatting. She was working—well, she was taking a stretch break at the moment, but she had been working—and daydreaming. And even if she were chatting, she wouldn’t be carrying on a silly office romance. And furthermore, she wasn’t interested in anyone. Most especially not the sysop from the eighth floor, who certainly didn’t lack for courage, since he’d spoken to her twice tonight already. This daydream was getting way out of control.

  Climbing stairs reminded her of another good reason to go golfing with her dad when she got off work. She’d been too sedentary. Her legs weren’t used to this. And she’d worn the wrong shoes.

  “Are you okay?” Miles asked, studying her features. It was evident that she was not. With every step, she let out a tiny twinge.

  “These boots are great for riding,” she said. “Not so good for climbing mountains. But let’s go on.”

  “We should rest a minute anyway,” he said. “I need it, even if you don’t.” Which wasn’t true. He could have climbed to the top of the mountain without pause. He did it often. But she would feel less self-conscious about stopping if he said it was for his benefit.

  They sat on a ledge and looked out over the world spread beneath them while she sipped from the Kolakul egg to refresh herself.

  “All of that will be yours?” he asked.

  “I guess. I mean, it’s my father’s. So I guess it would be mine. But…I don’t want it.”

  “Don’t want it?” he asked. “Or simply don’t want to lose him?”

  He knew the answer, saw it in her eyes. But she kept silent, and for a time they looked out at the deep, shadowy umber of the canyon, the wandering silver sliver of the river, the lush green carpet of the forest and the city of Morgania in the far distance.

  “I’ve never been to Morgania,” he said. “It looks beautiful.”

  “You’ve never been there?”

  “Like I said, I live at the top of a mountain.”

  Her eyes brightened a bit. “It’s a beautiful city. My father designed it, you know. He even did some of the work himself. Streets of beautiful slate tile. Full of art and tapestries and the smells of cooking all around. I love it there. So what’s the summit like?”

  “Well, I can see everything all around,” he said. “But it’s all very small and at a distance. You might say I can see the forest but not the trees. And certainly not the birds in the trees.”

  “So you live on imagination?”

  “By and large. I get out some…g
o around taming Behemoths. But yes, mostly I live in my head.”

  She flexed her boot and grimaced again.

  “Let’s see that foot,” he said. “You might have a blister.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Drusilla turned on the landing to see Miles coming down the stairs. Oh, great.

  “Just getting some gum off the sole of my shoe.”

  He glanced at the shoe. “I don’t see any gum.”

  “I got it off already.”

  “Your heel looks pretty red.”

  It did. New flats were not ideal for climbing stairs. She would have a nasty blister by the time she got home. So much for playing golf with her dad.

  “Hold on,” he said. “I have a first-aid kit upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

  “Let me see what I have in my pack,” Miles said, looking at the open sore on her foot. “I ought to have some healing herbs that will take care of that.”

  “I didn’t know you were a healer,” she said.

  “I’m not, but Behemoth taming can be dangerous sometimes. So I know a little.”

  Minutes later Miles returned with a white plastic box in his hands. He extracted a bottle of purple fluid. “It’s an astringent, to draw the moisture out of the skin. It may sting a bit.”

  Drusilla winced as he dabbed the fluid on. It stung, but not badly. His hands were tender as he applied two Band-Aids, then covered her left heel with a layer of white adhesive tape.

  “That should keep the friction off the skin until you can get home and change shoes.”

  “Thank you,” Drusilla said, looking down.

  Just what she needed on a night like this. To be rescued by a knight in shining armor who would probably think it meant he had a right to whatever else he wanted. But that wasn’t fair, she realized.

  “No problem,” he said. “I often ride my bike to work, so I keep this in my office for miscellaneous scrapes and such. Glad I could help.”