"Take my belt here," said Jim, handing it to Dafydd, "and make a loose loop around Aragh's back and stomach with the buckle on top, and just behind his shoulders. That'll give me some way to grab hold of him and lift and carry him over the step. Also, Aragh, you can help me by jumping upward and forward at the same time."
"That I can do," said Aragh sardonically. "In fact, if it came down to it, I might be able to make the leap myself, even without your help—though it would be a close thing, a very close thing. But I think you've forgotten something, James. That belt of yours is going to do you little good if it's lying flat on my shoulders. Better you sink your talons right into me to lift me; as you may do anyway, if you try to take hold of the leather strap lying on my shoulders."
"Two of us could crouch each side of Aragh," said Brian, "low enough so that we would be below the level of his back, but pushing up the leather on each side so that it stood up and bowed above his back and gave you some room to catch it. What of that, James?"
"That sounds good," answered Jim. He was nearly naked now; and conscious that the tower was uncomfortably cold. The goose bumps on his skin, and the thought of jumping off the steps and changing form in midair, were leaving him feeling a little queasy inside. Heights, he was not afraid of—but courting possible suicide was something that not even his indifference to heights could ignore.
Nonetheless, he stood at last completely naked. He tied all his clothes in his shirt and threw the shirt beyond the magic step safely onto the landing. Then he turned to the edge of the step he was on and hesitated there. The granite of the steps was cold under the naked soles of his feet.
He found himself beginning to hesitate a little bit too long. He was conscious of the eyes of the others on him. Dafydd had already buckled Jim's belt around Aragh's chest, just behind the shoulders. Luckily it was a belt that had once belonged to Sir Hugh, and a great deal larger than Jim needed. There was a fair amount of loop above Aragh's shoulders.
There was no putting it off any longer. Jim jumped. He had tried to tell himself, in the split second before jumping, that he was doing no more than a free-fall, as someone might do with a parachute on his back. But the thought was somehow not convincing. He found himself suddenly in midair, with the roof far below rushing up at him. Almost in a panic he wrote the change command on the inside of his forehead.
There was a shock as his wings opened with a flap; and automatically, he began to fly. He checked himself just as he flashed past the others still standing on the steps of the stairway—just in time to keep himself from smashing into the roof barely ten feet above the landing toward which they were all headed. Once again he had forgotten the tremendous surge of lifting power that a dragon could generate in his wings for a short time.
But as the last of his panic left him, he spiraled down within the confines of the tower, which made for very tight turning indeed, then commenced a climb up again.
It was necessary to take Aragh either first or second, since two of the other three had to crouch beside him and hold the loop of leather up. He climbed up, turned in at an angle to the stairway, tilted himself so that his left wing would not brush the stone, and snatched at the leather.
He missed. He went down, gathered himself, came up, and tried it again.
Again he missed, and again. Then, as he was beginning to get desperate, his claws clutched tight on the leather of the belt. Aragh sprang beneath him; and together they lifted over the magic step and onto the landing.
Jim let go of the strap just in time to keep from dashing himself against a wall in which was set a dark wood door.
He angled sharply away, dropped the equivalent of perhaps fifty steps, and came up again. Practice was paying off for him. He needed only two tries to pick up Dafydd and carry him to the landing, and only one try apiece to bring up the two knights.
He almost flew into the wall beside the dark door, after lifting Giles to safety—Giles being the last one up.
Jim banked away just in time and circled outward into the tower. Even the full width of the tower was narrow quarters for a flying creature as large as himself. He turned, dropped a little, climbed again, and made a short swoop to the open space of the landing. For a moment he had toyed with the idea of changing into his human body just as he landed; and then decided that the timing was too tricky.
He pulled up and landed, accordingly, with a thump.
It was a louder thump than he had intended; and clearly his companions thought the same. The two swords and the long knife were out immediately; and Aragh's teeth were bared. All four were clustered around the dark door, like tigers at a gate behind which some prey had taken refuge.
Hastily, Jim changed himself back into a human being. Shivering, he redressed himself, regained his belt from around Aragh, and strapped his sword and poignard on again. For once, strangely, he had felt more vulnerable as a dragon than as a man; and now felt much more confident and able to protect himself in his human shape and with his human weapons. He drew his own sword and joined the group about the door.
"Time to let ourselves in," he said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jim led the way, his eyes open for anything colored red. They had stepped into a sort of lobby, from which four entrances opened into further, separate rooms, which filled the rest of the space at this level of the tower. The rooms were smaller than the ones below, because the tower was smaller toward its top, and the ceiling was no more than fifteen feet above the innumerable carpets that were laid down.
The furniture, though still sparse by twentieth-century standards, was opulent and plentiful by fourteenth-century ones. Heavy tapestries hung from ceiling to floor over every inch of the walls except that space where the window slits occurred.
These were slightly wider than ordinary window slits and at least six feet in height. Each one was rimmed with red; and on glancing at them Jim saw why. With the help of magic, in daylight they would be able to admit much more light than something equally tall and wide should; and give a correspondingly larger view of the countryside from their high elevation in the tower. So that the effect would be almost that of a penthouse with picture windows, from Jim's own world, placed at the same height.
Cautiously, with weapons ready, they investigated all the rooms; but, as Aragh had announced almost immediately, there was no one there.
"There's someone above, though," Aragh said. "Human—I can scent whoever it is."
There was a curving staircase nearly as wide as the one they had just come up, leading to the floor directly above. They went up it and discovered another series of rooms off a much smaller central chamber. There were four of these rooms and each had a solidly closed door that blazed red to Jim's vision.
"The doors are warded with magic," Jim told his friends. "If we can find out without touching them which one might have the Prince behind it, we'd be ahead of the game. Aragh, can you tell?"
Aragh went close to each of the doors in turn—only close, for he stopped a good six or eight feet away—sniffing, and cocking his head to listen.
"There's someone beyond this door," said Aragh, after he had investigated them all and come back to the third one. "A single man, I think, for I can hear him breathing. He seems to be asleep."
"It must be our Prince!" said Sir Giles, moving forward. "Let us in and have him out of there—"
"Stop, Giles!" snapped Jim quickly.
Giles checked and turned to Jim with a wondering, almost injured expression on his face.
"Remember I said it's warded by magic?" Jim reminded him. "Any attempt to open it is undoubtedly going to sound an alarm to Malvinne—if not worse!"
Giles drew back. Jim stood staring at the door. The others waited, staring at him.
"Can't you magic them open, some way, James?" asked Brian after a long moment.
"That's what I'm trying to do!" said Jim, and then felt guilty at having snapped at Brian. "Forgive me Brian. I'm busy concentrating on how to get past that magic."
"It's quite all right, James," said Brian earnestly. "You know I'm well acquainted with Carolinus. One expects such from a mage."
It had never struck Jim before that a necessary concentration of this sort might be some excuse for Carolinus's asperity. But he had no time to think about that now. His mind was galloping.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that whatever protected the door would be, aside from anything else, an alarm that would alert Malvinne himself, personally, that someone was trying to get into one of his protected rooms. It was hardly likely he would trust an underling to respond to anything as important as an intrusion into what were obviously his private apartments.
Whatever else the magic might be supposed to do—like burn the would-be entrant to a crisp—it would be set up so that Malvinne himself would not be either warned, or harmed by it, himself, when entering the room. Jim could not possibly understand the magic protecting the door. But it was a safe bet that if he could switch the magic protection from Malvinne to himself, he might be able to keep knowledge of the switch from Malvinne; and at the same time avoid the traps set for anyone who tried to get into one of the rooms.
He thought a moment and then wrote on the inside of his forehead:
ME/NOT MALVINNE→MAGIC
WARNINGETC./IF THISDOOR OPENED
As usual when he created a magic command in his head, he also made an attempt to envision what the command embodied. In this case the vision he produced was of something like a ray of light being redirected from wherever Malvinne was to himself.
Also, as usual, he heard and saw no difference in anything about him, and felt no specific change.
Still, he found himself staring at the door and doorway and hesitating over what to do next. Theoretically, the door had been disarmed. Now he should be the one who would be warned; and anything dangerous about the door should not operate against him if he tried to open it
He would not know this until he actually tried to enter the room.
The door, of course, had no knob, twentieth-century fashion. Instead, there was a small bar about where a knob should be—a bar just big enough for the hand to enclose nicely and push. The minute he touched that bar, he would know whether the magic had worked or not.
"All right," he said on a deep intake of breath to the omen, without looking around at them. "All of you, stand back. I'm going to try to go in through the door. If I can go in safely, probably the rest of you can. Are you standing back?"
The voices from behind him assured him that they were.
He let out the breath he had been holding, took another, then reached out, grasped the bar and pushed. As he did so, he suddenly realized there might be something as ordinary and mundane as a bolt that was also securing it. But by that time he was already putting his weight against the door to push it open.
No lightning bolt of lethal magic struck him. Only, a deep, gong-type note sounded three times in his head, followed by a voice that said, "The blue-painted chamber has been opened. The blue-painted chamber has been opened. The blue-painted chamber has been opened. …"
It continued to repeat itself, and he was beginning to think it would go on forever, when it stopped abruptly. He looked about the room and saw a young man just waking up in one of the little beds pushed into a corner, that had been so common everywhere he had gone.
So far, so good. The only question remaining was whether Malvinne had been alerted by some side-element of the magic. If that was so, if he had been alerted after all, then there would be people after them in a hurry. The faster they moved the better.
Jim went into the room. The young man—youth was a better word for him—was sitting up on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes. He looked younger than he had at first glance. Somewhere between sixteen and nineteen Jim guessed; although it was sometimes impossible to tell with these fresh English faces, which were youthful until time and weather or scars had left their indelible marks upon them. There was something of the innocence of John Chester about this lad, too. But at the same time, there was something sophisticated. Something that was a result of either training, or a self-control that overlay the visible innocence.
He was dressed simply enough, but his clothes were rich. He had been sleeping, as many people in this world did, in the same clothes in which he lived during the day. Above his hose he was wearing a dark blue cote-hardie (or jacket), with tiny jewels, or at least, tiny, refractive bits of jewellike glass sewn into it at certain points, so that they caught the light and flashed as he moved. His hair was an auburn brown, cut short, and there was a gold chain around his neck, from which hung a medallion. The figure on it was unrecognizable to Jim. A pair of ankle-high, soft leather boots stood by the bed, and he paused to pull them on now before speaking to Jim.
It was in that moment that Jim realized that since he was safely inside, perhaps the others could come too. He turned to tell them so, only to discover that they were already there.
The two knights were each down upon one knee, facing the young man on the bed. Dafydd was still on his feet, as was Aragh; but the bowman had taken off his steel cap, which he had been wearing ever since Jim had met him in Blois. It was a man-at-arms cap; very different from the soft, almost beretlike cap that he usually wore.
Jim had obviously been a little too late in warning the others that it might be dangerous to follow him. He put that whole matter aside, now; caught on a rather embarrassing question of etiquette. Theoretically, he should be kneeling too. After all, he was directly in fief to the King who was this youngster's father. But a lifetime of habit got in his way.
"To hell with it!" he told himself under his bream, and remained standing.
"And who might you gentlemen be?" asked the young man, looking at Jim, Brian, and Giles, now that he had pulled on the second of his boots. He gave a wave of his hand. "Rise. By all means, rise. This is no place for ceremony. If you're enemies, I expect none. If you're friends, you're granted permission."
"We are friends, Your Highness," answered Brian, standing up and stepping forward. "And Englishmen—that is, the three of us are English. The one closest to you is Sir James Eckert, Baron de Bois de Malencontri, by gift of your royal father within the last year, and Sir Giles de Mer, a loyal knight of Northumberland. Also, myself, who am Sir Brian Neville-Smythe, a cadet branch of the Nevilles of Raby, if it please Your Highness. The others are also friends, though not English. The tall man with us is a Welshman named Dafydd ap Hywel; and with him is Aragh, an English wolf."
The Prince smiled.
"It sounds to me as if at least four of you are English," he said, "if the wolf so qualifies, also."
"I was born an English wolf and will die an English wolf," said Aragh, "though not of your kingdom, since I'm a free wolf and my people have always been a free people. Still, I'm a friend; and will remain such to you since you come from my own country. Only don't expect human ways from me. That has never been a practice of us wolves."
The Prince yawned involuntarily for a second.
"You are excused from any such manners, Sir Wolf," he said. "I am in no case to look askance at the ways of any friends who reach me here. In fact, I would have never dreamed that anyone, Englishman or otherwise, could find me in this place where Malvinne has me prisoner."
He smiled up at them from the bed.
"And now that you've reached me," he said, "what?"
"We get you out of here, Your Highness," said Jim, "as fast as we can."
"But how are we to do that, James?" Brian asked. "The moment we reach the bottom of the stairs with His Highness here in company, all those down below there will recognize who he is. If they don't attack us then, immediately, they will scatter and spread the warning. And we are in the very heart of Malvinne's castle."
"You are speaking of the stairs that circle the inside of the tower?" asked the Prince, getting to his feet.
"Yes, Your Highness," said Brian.
"I'm not sure," said the Prince
, frowning a little, "but I think that Malvinne had another way out of here, a secret way, one known only to himself. He has more or less spoken of it from time to time when we've been together."
"You see him often?" asked Jim.
"He takes meals with me, every other day or so," said the Prince. "In fact, his face is the only one I have ever seen up here in this accursed place that has been my prison."
Jim did a quick calculation in his head. It had been early dark of an evening when Bernard had found them and taken them to the castle. From then until now could not be more than a couple of hours—three at most. There was no danger of Malvinne showing up for lunch right in the middle of their escape.
"He is a curst, overprideful dining companion," went on the Prince, "let alone that he drinks nothing but water with his food. But I must admit the wine he gives me, as well as the food we both eat, is good enough. But most of the time is given over to his telling me of his great powers and abilities; and one of the things that has come up in his conversation from time to time, have been words to the effect that he has his own secret ways about his château."
"But how can there be one from here?" asked Sir Giles. "Begging Your Highness's pardon, I do not mean to seem to doubt what you've heard, but this tower is completely bare, except for the stairs that circle its inside. For myself I can see no way even a flea might escape from here by any other way than the stairway itself."
"No more do I, my good knight of Northumberland," said the Prince. "Nonetheless he has hinted at such—or alluded to it, I should perhaps say. For he never said it out straightly that he had a secret path to and from here."
"It would be a road of magic, no doubt," put in Brian.
"Perhaps…" said Jim.
He was thinking deeply and swiftly. Certainly, immediate transference by magical means, from wherever Malvinne might be to this high tower, would be a much more comfortable way of getting here than climbing that long series of steps. On the other hand…
The Dragon Knight Page 32
