The Dragon Waiting

by John M. Ford

  "That being the case," della Robbia said, "I shall retire also. I am one of those who must read an hour, make some business notes, before I may fall asleep. Good night to you."

  "We have a small but choice library," the innkeeper said. "If anyone wishes for tea or wine before bed, or a little snack"—they all groaned—"please ask. There are bell-pulls, of course; ring at any hour."

  Caterina Ricardi rose, the others following suit, spilling things. "The coach trip was very long. My compliments, Messer Kronig. And good night to you all."

  Kronig beamed. "Buona notte, Signorina."

  After Falcone, della Robbia, and Ricardi had gone up the stairs, Kronig said "And will you gentlemen require anything?"

  "The use of your taproom," Timaeus Plato said. "Mulled ale for myself, and whatever these gentlemen wish to drink, in good supply. And complete privacy."

  Captain Hector said, "You understand what 'complete' means— no tapsters, no scullery maids, not even you?"

  "Captain," said Jochen Kronig, half hurt and half lordly, "I am Swiss."

  The old man in gray settled into a chair before the taproom fire, hands on a leather blackjack of ale. The hearth and two candles made the only light. The old man reached up to the right side of his face, put fingertips around his eyesocket, leaned forward. He gave a small sigh. Candlelight sparkled from the eyeball that lay in his palm.

  "Venetian glass?" Gregory von Bayern asked, examining the eye. Hywel Peredur nodded. Gregory said "I thought I saw it actually move, with the living one."

  "You actually thought it did," Hywel said, slipping a leather eyepatch into place. "A sympathetic illusion. Necessary, I suppose, but it gives me an awful headache after a few hours."

  "Then you are, in fact, a wizard."

  "I suppose I must be."

  Von Bayern looked puzzled for a moment, then gestured toward Captain Hector, who stood against the wall, arms folded. "All right, Hen Doktor... Peredur. I have answered the Captain's request for an artillery scientist, somewhat too late, it seems. And you asked me auf's Deutsch to be quiet and trust you until we could have a discussion. What are we then discussing?"

  "Artillery, possibly."

  "Surely the Milanese do not still propose to have Captain Hector invade Switzerland."

  "There is no longer a Milan to propose anything," Hywel said. "Now there is only Byzantium."

  Gregory said quietly, "And does Byzantium propose..."

  "The Empire proposes to expand. To annex the world, in careful, patient steps, exactly as it conducted affairs in this country that used to be Italy. Will you grant me that, as a hypothesis?"

  "Yes. I will grant you that."

  "I have some cause to know that they are planning to disrupt Britain; are disrupting it. You know that there was a dynastic war?"

  "Die Plantagenet," Gregory said. "Yorks and... and..."

  "Lancasters," said the Captain.

  "Yes, Lancasters. But the war is over, is it not?"

  "The Lancasters are dead, mostly," Hywel said, "but the tensions are not. I believe the Empire is trying to start another civil war. Not tomorrow, but soon enough that the fabric of the nation would tear under the stress. Flourish of trumpets, alarums; enter Byzantium triumphant." He paused. "They're really very good at it."

  "You mean to stop them?" Gregory said, cautiously. He rubbed the frames of his dark glasses with a fingertip. "Are you then a very powerful magician?"

  "Oh, no one's that," Hywel said mildly. "I know some things about how the Empire works. And the Captain knows a very great deal about their military practice. He was an Imperial himself... be calm, Herr Doktor. The Captain's family was murdered by Imperial directive; he's not one of them anymore. While we're in private, his real name is Dimitrios Ducas."

  Dimi looked up. "He knows these things. I don't know how he finds them out."

  "And you, Herr Doktor von Bayern, are a German artillerist; and the Germanies are still in advance of Byzantium in the technology of guns. You also are a very fine mathematician, and your English is excellent."

  Gregory's eyebrows rose. Dimi said "See what I mean?" Dimitrios. pushed away from the wall, went to the fireplace. "You know well enough I'll go with you," he said to Hywel. "I've no more mercenaries, and no more war here. And if you could learn my name, it's time to move and change again. But why should the Doctor join an enterprise like this? Fighting the Empire is the nearest thing I know to an unarmed charge uphill."

  Hywel looked at Gregory. He rolled the glass eye in his fingers. He spoke very softly. "Seit warm ist die Blutnot bei Ihnen?"

  Gregory said "I am a vampire eight years now."

  Dimitrios turned. Ale spattered into the fire.

  Gregory said "I thought I hid it well."

  "You do," Hywel said. "The white clothing to hide your paleness, the glasses..."

  "What is this?" Dimi said, a dangerous edge in his voice.

  "A disease," Hywel said, "like gout, or pissing sugar."

  "Or leprosy, which spreads," Dimitrios said. "The enemy of my enemy is not my friend." He muttered rapidly in Greek.

  "The blood of bulls tastes unpleasant," Gregory replied in the same language, "but indeed I have drunk it. Also the blood of snakes, which tastes foul."

  Tension was visible in Dimi's whole body.

  Hywel said "Please go ahead, Herr Doktor."

  Von Bayern sat down across the table from the two men. "I was an associate professor, working at the University at Alexandria. An Imperial official, a magistrate... well, she seduced me first. Or I allowed myself to be seduced. Or... There is not much blood involved, actually, not at one time, unless the person is driven to gorge. And infection is not inevitable. That is what a young man says to a young woman he desires, is it not? There is not so much blood, not so much pain, as she has heard, and no consequence is inevitable. Until one morning one wakes up, and is sick." He smiled, absolutely without humor. "Hungering for strange things...

  "I saw my mistress only once again after that, at the closed court session where I was asked to leave Alexandria."

  "You were given no choice," Hywel said.

  "I was, for Imperial justice is fair. They had the knives on the table, ready."

  Dimitrios said "And if you had any—honor, you would have accepted them! But instead you came back, to spread—disease—"

  Gregory stood up, leaned across the table. "You will not speak to me again like that," he said in a deadly tone. "You do not, cannot, know, what I am or what I have done. I have killed animals, yes, who cannot be infected. And I have taken human blood, because without some little of it I would go mad, gorging-mad, but always I have taken it with the knife, or the hollow needle, and a cup, never with nails or teeth. I am Gregory, Fachritter von Bayern, and I have done what I must, but I have never infected another man or woman!" He turned away from both other men. "Aber's macht nichts, nicht wahr? You do not know. You do not know what it is to hate what you must do to stay alive. To hate yourself for what you cannot help but do." He bent his head and stood quite still, his face hidden.

  Dimitrios emptied his mug, put it on the table with a bang. In a low voice, he said "I guess I do know that." He pulled the Milanese badge from his sleeve, threw it on the table. "I'm with you," he said. "Both of you."

  Hywel poured some ale. "Then here's to the enterprise."

  "Well begun," said Gregory, and knocked his mug against Dimi's. The two of them stood like that for a long moment, not moving or speaking or smiling, and then they drank.

  Dimitrios shortly went up to bed. Gregory stood by the window, looking out at nothing. Hywel faced the fireplace, watching the flames.

  Suddenly Gregory said "Can you read minds?"

  "I can, but I don't. Faces and bodies can be read as well, or better, and much more easily."

  Gregory nodded.

  Hywel spoke in German. "It was necessary that he be told. Especially so since you must feed soon I saw the signs, at dinner. I imagine... it is very painful, the hun
ger."

  "Yes," Gregory said, and clenched a fist against his chest. "Yes."

  By the time of full light the storm was over. Snow still fell, but gently. The windows of the main hall were unshuttered and bright. Sky and earth outside were the same luminous white, bits of trees and rocks visible between like penstrokes in a faded drawing; there were no shades of gray.

  The guests came down to a table loaded with coddled eggs in silver cups, ham and sausage and brains, herring in crust and bread with honey; India tea was served in China-ware cups of an eggshell delicacy.

  "It's as if we were visiting royalty," Caterina Ricardi said. "What is my bill going to look like?"

  "I suspect there is a sound economic reason for our host's generosity," said Hywel-Timaeus Plato. "Wouldn't you say, Ser Antonio?"

  Della Robbia chewed a piece of bacon, looked thoughtful, swallowed. "Why, of course. Thought is impeded by a full belly." He turned to Caterina. "You see, Signorina, this inn will certainly fall under Imperial authority, as a part of the Directorate of Highways."

  Caterina looked blank.

  "My lady has never traveled on Imperial roads?"

  "Roman roads, but..."

  "The roads are the world's finest," said Captain Dimitrios-Hector, "and the food served along them is the world's worst. Worse than camp kitchens, and even more uniform. Put simply, my lady, Ser Jochen may as well be generous, for tomorrow he will be an Imperial service."

  "And yet," said Hywel, "he begrudges that hedge-wizard one decent meal."

  "Why, Doctor," Dimitrios said formally, "he is Swiss."

  Della Robbia laughed, turning it into a cough as Kronig entered. "Sir, has your cold returned?" the innkeeper asked, and the banker shook his head violently to cover his expression. Kronig said "But where are my other guests? Were their hours late?"

  Dimitrios said "Where did that Frenchman go, anyway?"

  "The unpleasant, drunken fellow?" said della Robbia. "Perhaps he simply fell into a stupor."

  "He was unpleasant and drunk," Dimi said, "but not that drunk."

  Hywel said "Messer Kronig, has Charles de la Maison taken meals in his room?"

  Kronig looked hesitant, as if about to betray a state secret, then said "No, sir. Not even wine."

  Dimitrios said "That's very wrong. Men like that don't miss meals like this—"

  A scream, loud and high and long, cut him off.

  Kronig went to the stairs and up them with astonishing speed. The others put down their plates and disentangled their napkins and followed.

  "Which was the Frenchman's room?" Dimi said. "If he's messing with a serving girl, I'll gladly give him a faceful of goat's brains."

  "That's not where the disturbance is," Hywel said quietly, and pointed down the hall; at an open door stood Jochen Kronig, his hands on a trembling chambermaid's shoulders, interrogating her in a rapid stream of Swiss-Italian dialect.

  Dimitrios reached the door first. He looked past the innkeeper and the maid, who kept on talking; then Dimi's hands curled very tight, and he turned to face Hywel with something close to fury.

  Della Robbia reached the door. He said "Signorina Ricardi... do not look at this."

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said, and walked on faster. Hywel was left alone as he slowly proceeded down the hall.

  Kronig, suddenly conscious of what went on in the corridor, sputtered a protest and tried to close the door, but Caterina Ricardi pushed him aside. She stared. Her face set hard. She stepped back to let Hywel view the scene, but she did not turn away.

  Claudio Falcone lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, clearly and entirely dead. He wore only his black silk hose, and the sheets were knotted around his legs at knees and ankles. His wrists were tied to the bedposts with pieces of the bell-pull; a linen napkin had been stuffed into his mouth and tied there with another length of cord. Brown blood spotted the linen, and ran in a dry track from his right nostril. There were several cuts on Falcone's arms and upper body, but not much blood from any of them.

  Hywel went into the room. Just above Falcone's left shoulder was a patch of congealed blood. A piece of hollow quill had been thrust into the neck, into the large artery. The open end was blocked with granular blood.

  On the bedside table were a small knife and a wooden drinking mazer. There was blood on the knife, and in the cup.

  Hywel turned his head, in a sudden cold draft: a pane of the window was slightly open. Snow had piled on the sill and the floor.

  Hywel turned back to the dead man. The skin of the face was waxy pale, the eyes wide. There was a dark spot at the right temple. The cloth-choked expression might have been horror, or pain, or despair, or perhaps some feeling no one could know and survive. Hywel closed the eyelids and covered the body with a sheet.

  Kronig said "I will have the room scoured—"

  "Don't do that," Hywel said. "Don't do anything but lock the door."

  When the group got downstairs, one man stood in the hall, placing slices of bacon on bread.

  Gregory looked up, smiling below his dark glasses, flushes of red brilliant in his cheeks. "Good morning," he said. "Are you all late to breakfast, or am I early?"

  "Lady Minerva," Caterina Ricardi almost shrieked, "he is a vampire!"

  Chapter Five

  DEPARTURES

  GREGORY’S smile disappeared, but he did not otherwise react; he did not move as Antonio della Robbia rushed toward him. Della Robbia struck von Bayern across the face, grasped Gregory's left arm and twisted it behind his back. A little white roll tumbled across the floor. Gregory did not speak.

  Hywel put a hand on Dimitrios's wrist, gripped it tightly. No one on the stairs took a step farther.

  Della Robbia forced Gregory into a chair, still levering at his arm. He reached to von Bayern's face, pulled off the dark glasses, turned Gregory's face to the windows. Gregory spasmed, tried to cover his eyes, made a whimpering, gurgling sound.

  "Enough of this," Hywel said. Della Robbia looked up, startled. Even with his leverage, he was having difficulty holding von Bayern.

  The innkeeper said "His bed was not slept in, the maid says."

  "Nor was mine," Hywel said, his eyes fixed on della Robbia. "Herr Doktor von Bayern, for his condition, and I for my age do not require much sleep. We were up together the whole night, in the taproom, drinking... wine."

  "Is that true?" della Robbia said. Hywel's look was withering.

  Delia Robbia released Gregory, who turned away from the light and groped across the breakfast table for his glasses. He found them in the butter, put them on half-covered with it, and sat shaking.

  "Was anyone else not in his bed last night?" Hywel asked Kronig. "Messer Charles, for instance?"

  They went back up the stairs, leaving Gregory. Kronig's passkey opened an empty room. "You're certain this was de la Maison's?" Hywel said, sniffing the air. It was apparent that no one had used the room for any of its usual functions since its last cleaning. Kronig affirmed that it was indeed the right room, and opened the remaining unoccupied rooms on the floor. All were, and had been, empty.

  "What about the wizard?" Dimitrios said. "The one in the barn?"

  "He is the next one to ask," said Hywel, "since he was with the horses all night."

  Cloaks were brought. Kronig, with Hywel, Dimitrios, and Antonio, stepped out onto the covered inn porch.

  "Wait," Hywel said. "Look."

  "Damnation," Dimitrios said.

  All the way across the courtyard the snow was deep and smooth and unprinted. They crossed to the stables; not a single footprint led from the building.

  Guido Tommasi, called Nottesignore, was washing his face in the horse trough when the men came in. "Ah! Good morning, good sirs. Innkeeper, about that dinner last night... fear not; I shall provide my own breakfast. Watch." He made a set of elaborate passes in the air, his patched blue sleeves flapping. "Abracadabra... abracavitti... dit! Dit! Dit!"

  An egg appeared between his fingers; then there were two eggs,
then three. Tommasi presented them to Kronig. "I should like those fried in butter, with the yolks whole... and, if you would, a little bacon "

  Kronig looked bewildered. Antonio della Robbia said "Wizard, will you swear before myself and these gentlemen that you did not fly by magic to an inn window last night, and there do murder, for foul magical purposes?"

  "What?" said Tommasi. An egg fell out of his sleeve.

  "A man was killed last night," Hywel said calmly. "It's quite simple; you cannot be responsible, unless you can fly through the air."

  "In that case," Tommasi said, "I cannot fly." He looked around at the others, then said "I especially cannot fly when hurled from high windows to test my claim."

  Dimitrios laughed sharply. Antonio gave Hywel a sidelong look. Kronig shook his head and turned to leave.

  "Innkeeper..." Tommasi said.

  They paused.

  "While I deeply regret my inability to fly, perhaps certain other of my powers could be of assistance? If I were warm, and could concentrate?"

  Kronig grimaced. His hand tightened, then froze on the eggs in his palm. "Come, then."

  "And I wonder," said the wizard Nottesignore, "if the murdered man had a breakfast he will not be eating...?”

  Yolk and albumen dribbled from the innkeeper's fingers.

  "I had not thought," della Robbia said as the servants took their cloaks, "but we left the lady alone, with the vampire."

  In the main hall, the lady was applying a cool compress to the vampire's eyes, and offering him India tea with honey. "Can you begin to understand that?" Dimitrios said, aside, to Hywel.

  "Perhaps begin to," Hywel said.

  Tommasi launched himself into breakfast with an inspiring will, and though the others' appetites had been badly damaged by the scene upstairs, before long a sit-down, stand-up, and move-around meal for six was in progress. Innkeeper Kronig watched with a look of satisfaction that vanished whenever food got near Nottesignore's capacious sleeves.

  "Suppose that it was this mercenary Charles," della Robbia said. "Where is he now? Surely he could not have escaped last night on foot. Or even this morning. Wizard, did a man take a horse last night?"