One Quest, Hold the Dragons

by Greg Costikyan

  "That's absurd," said the captain. Kronarsson stood more than six feet tall.

  "If papers say I am dwarf, I am dwarf," said Kraki shrugging. "Is hokay by me."

  The captain studied the papers a moment longer, then laid them on the table, stepped back, murmured, "Arms forward," to his soldiers—there were a rustle and clank as they turned into an orderly hedgehog of pole-arms—and announced, "Timaeus d'Asperge, I have orders to take you and your companions into custody."

  Lotte cursed faintly and dived behind the bar.

  Kraki put down his stein and began to harry the spaces between his teeth with a thumbnail. Neither he nor the others rose. There was silence for a moment. Sidney put her hands on the table, the palms slightly cupped, ready to snatch the throwing knives from her sleeves.

  Timaeus said, "That's Magister d' Asperge to you," and brought his forefinger to his pipe. There was a loud bang, and flames briefly enveloped his head. When they dissipated, the pipe was lit, Timaeus puffing contentedly.

  "Will you come peaceably?" the captain demanded.

  "My dear fellow," said Timaeus, "I shan't come, peaceably or elsewise. If we are to have peace, you must desist from this futile insistence."

  There came a voice from across the room. "By Dion, I like your spirit." The man in the frock coat was standing, a hand on the hilt of his épee.

  The captain eyed the man unhappily. "Are you a Hamsterian citizen, sir?"

  "I am," responded the man.

  "Then by order of the Graf von Grentz, do not interfere in our business."

  "By order of von Grentz, eh? The most despicable of a despised gens, an Accommodationist, and a lover of catamites to boot. By the love I bear for Hamsterburg, any enemy of Gerlad von Grentz is a friend of mine."

  The captain barked, "Hold," over his shoulders at his men, marched smartly around the table where Sidney and the others sat, and drew his saber, holding it vertically before his nose. "You will withdraw your vile assertion," he stated. Sidney noted that the slur in his speech had disappeared.

  "Which assertion?" said the frock-coated man. "That the gens von Grentz is despised? That Gerlad prefers his boys below the age of consent? Or—"

  The captain shouted, "Draw your blade, or so help me, I shall cut you down where you are."

  The frock-coated man smiled and said, "If you insist, good sir." He began to remove his coat, displaying long, white, and somewhat soiled sleeves with lace cuffs.

  "Captain," said one of the soldiers uneasily, "we've unfinished business—"

  "So vile a slander must not be tolerated," spat the captain. "I charge you, hold."

  The soldiers bore unhappy faces, but maintained their formation. Sidney wondered what they must be thinking; a massed formation of guisardieres was effective on the battlefield, and should be sufficient to deal with five or six adventurers—but not if one of them was a fire mage. A single fireball could wipe them out. And they had seen Timaeus light his pipe; they knew what they faced.

  The swordsman had finished removing his frock coat. He took his epée from his belt and held it likewise before his face. "My name is Pablo von Kremnitz," he said. "I would be honored to learn yours before I kill you."

  "There is no need," said the captain, and gave a sudden vicious cut toward the other's head. The épée twitched, and the captain's saber was deflected upward, missing its target. The captain recovered quickly; they stood facing each other for a moment, both in fighting stance-sword extended, one foot forward, the rear foot pointing away from the body. With a sudden clash of steel, they were in motion again. The captain lunged forward, von Kremnitz dodging aside, the epee's blade angled to deflect a sudden cut. The captain followed his weapon around and brought it back to defensive position.

  "Vhy doesn't he have soldiers kill that man?" asked Kraki, studying the passage at arms with interest.

  "That would be dishonorable," said Nick. There was a sardonic tone in his voice; he had the thief's amused contempt for aristocratic notions of honor.

  Kraki blinked, obviously puzzled. "Someone insult you, you and friends kill him," he said. "Not dishonorable to gang up; good joke on him, ho ho, stupid to make insult vithout pals around for back up. You vant rest of ale, Nickie?"

  Tensely, Nick shook his head, scanning the room, like Sidney ready to act instantly if the situation got out of hand. Kraki grabbed Nick's stein and drained it.

  Von Kremnitz lunged, the captain twisting out of the épée's way. Von Kremnitz was compelled onward by the momentum of his own thrust, leaping atop the table where Sidney and the others sat, upsetting several steins. Nick, Sidney, and Mortise jumped away, chairs toppling backward; Timaeus sat stolidly where he was, puffing his pipe and leaning back, while Kraki merely removed his leg from the table so that it wouldn't be trod upon and snatched one of the toppling steins, to drain whatever remnants it contained. Swords clashed inches from his face; he studied the swordplay with interest. Sidney itched to plant a dagger in the captain's brisket, but decided against it; there was no telling how his soldiers would react.

  The captain had backed off, apparently misliking the advantage the height of the table gave his opponent. Von Kremnitz leaped down, charged the other, ducked under the defensively held saber while sweeping upward with his own blade, struck the captain in the stomach with his left fist, whirled past, and, the captain not quite recovered, cut toward the captain's face with his Epee, drawing a line of blood up the right cheek.

  Von Kremnitz stamped back and held his Epee vertical before his face again. "First blood," he said.

  The captain looked shaken, but still angered. "Insufficient," he grated and danced forward, saber sweeping up in a block, then sideways in a cut, a maneuver that might have injured the swordsman's thigh if he had been wherethe captain had expected—but he had moved inward, inside the captain's stroke.

  For a long moment, they appeared to embrace, the apparent tenderness belied by the thin line of von Kremnitz's steel protruding from the captain's back.

  The captain gave a gurgle and fell, sliding off the blade. Von Kremnitz assumed a fighting stance, against the possibility that the soldiers would attempt to avenge the death of their leader.

  "He killed the captain, Mauro," said one.

  "I have eyes, Kevork," said Mauro.

  "Let us slay the murderer," said Kevork.

  "I think not," said Timaeus, standing up. "Your captain challenged this gentleman; the forms were obeyed. There was no murder."

  "You are under arrest," said Mauro. "Stand aside."

  "Kraki, please stand between me and the soldiers," said Timaeus.

  "Hokay," said the barbarian, lumbering to his feet and pulling his sword from its sheath at his back. The cubitslong length of steel made both saber and epée look like toys.

  "I believe that my friend can delay you sufficiently long to allow me to cast a spell," said Timaeus. "I see no wards among you. If you persist in attempting to capture us, or offer injury to the gentleman, I will not be responsible for the consequences. Indeed, under the circumstances, I suggest that it is advisable for you to depart this establishment."

  "What do we do, Mauro?" asked one of the soldiers.

  While Mauro dithered, Sidney and Nick went to stand by Timaeus; Sidney produced her throwing daggers, since intimidation seemed more useful at present than surprise, and Nick, seeing this, did likewise. To her surprise, Frer Mortise joined them, displaying his hatchet, which he tossed and caught repeatedly with his right hand, the weapon twirling with each toss, but caught always by the shaft. Von Kremnitz joined Kraki facing off against the soldiers, though what use he expected his epée to be against pole-arms Sidney could not say. That left only Jasper. And where was he?

  A mumbling was coming from underneath the table, Sidney realized; she didn't quite catch the Words, but suspected it might be a spell.

  Several of the soldiers were wavering slightly, as if nearly too inebriated to stand. Their formation was tight enough to keep all erect, though guisa
rds dipped and swung unsteadily. Could they be that drunk?

  "I bet they won' riss—riss a fireball in here, Maur'. Room's too small. An' ... an' ..."

  One of the soldiers fell to his knees and emptied his stomach on the worn, knotty boards of the floor. Another simply collapsed and began to snore. Mauro sat unsteadily down in one of the booths, as if unable to stand any longer.

  Soldier by soldier, the formation disintegrated. More than one lost his lunch; several passed out, others managed to sit, looking rather sick, clutching the table as. if they needed support.

  Jasper was flitting in the air above them now, green light swooping in circles. "Cart keep it up for long," he said quickly. "Tie them up, won't you?" And then he resumed chanting.

  "N-no," said Mauro. "Is-is—no. Can' allow ..." He struggled to his feet, lurched forward, slipped in vomit, and crashed to the floor.

  "I vant vhat they've been drinking," Kraki said to Lotte.

  "It's not the wine," said Timaeus, "it's Jasper's spell. They were drunk already; I imagine he merely magnified the effect. Sidney, have we enough rope?"

  She was already searching through her pack. "I don't think we brought any," she said worriedly. "Didn't need it in the woods, and weight was at a premium."

  "Oh, dear," said Frer Mortise. "I'd really rather we didn't kill them."

  "Wait a minute," said Nick. He turned to the innkeeper and asked, "You've got a cellar?"

  "Aye," Lotte said hesitantly.

  "Is there a lock on the door?"

  "Oh, aye," she said.

  Nick went over to one of the sleeping soldiers, lifted her legs by the bootheels, and pulled her toward the taproom door. "Show me where it is," he said.

  "But sir—these are soldiers of the graf, they'll have me hung if I—"

  Nick snorted. "We forced you," he said soothingly. "Threatened to kill you, to bum the inn. You were terrified out of your wits."

  "Aye," she said in a tiny, tearful voice.

  "Besides," said Nick reluctantly, as he hauled the soldier out the door, head bumping on the lintel, "there's money in it for you."

  "Oh, aye," said Lotte, sounding much better. She followed him out of the room. "A dozen pounds should do it."

  "A dozen what?" came Nick's horrified voice from down the corridor.

  Sidney was already stripping the soldiers of their weapons—and their purses. She pocketed the latter, hiding this action from the eyes of the others, more from sheer habit than from any real desire for the small sums these poor wretches were carrying. "Come on, damn it," she said. "Give me a hand. We've got to get them all in the cellar before Jasper gives out."

  The green light was circling a little more slowly now, and the Words of Jasper's spell did sound a little more tired.

  "Easier yust to cut throats," complained Kraki, but he tucked a soldier under each arm and dragged the two of them toward the door, their boots trailing on the planks behind.

  VI

  Jasper's light hung motionless over a bar stool. "Thank goodness," he said. "I'll have some of the local wine, if you will, my dear."

  "Righto," said Lotte cheerfully, reaching for a bottle. "Thanks for not trashing the place. I tell you, I practically had a heart attack when—"

  "Not at all, not at all," Jasper murmured. "You wouldn't serve a cold luncheon, by any chance?"

  "I can rustle up something," she said. "Give me a mo'." She bustled out toward the kitchen.

  "I do trust you'll let us stand you a drink or two," Timaeus said to von Kremnitz.

  "Of course," said the swordsman, throwing a leg over a stool himself, shifting his belt so that his épée wouldn't stick into the person at the next stool, who chanced to be Sidney. "If you will permit an inquiry ... ?"

  "Mm?" said Timaeus, knocking ash from his pipe.

  "The graf's soldiery seem to be well acquainted withyou, good sir. I'm afraid I, however, am ignorant of the House d'Asperge. By your accent, I perceive you to be Athelstani; may I inquire how you came to these parts?"

  "Certainly," said Timaeus, extracting pipe cleaners, a cloth, and a scouring tool from his pouch. "We—"

  "Wait," said Sidney. "How do you know we can trust this guy?"

  Von Kremnitz gave her a wounded look. "My dear," he said, "I am a gentleman."

  Nick snorted. "Is that supposed to reassure us?"

  "I'm not your dear," snapped Sidney. "And I agree, you helped us with those soldiers. But obviously for your own reasons. I—"

  "See here, Sidney," said Timaeus, bristling. "We need hardly assume that everyone we meet is a potential betrayer. After all, our intentions are good, our goal—"

  "Right, and you're such a good judge of character," said Sidney. "Know how trustworthy someone is right off the bat, every time. Sure. Remember Lenny the Lizard?"

  "Yes, but this is diff—"

  "And I thought we'd agreed to keep up our cover until we reached Hamsterburg."

  "Cover?" said Timaeus. "What, our cover as itinerant rug merchants? Damned thin, even when we had a wagon full of rugs, which, as I may point out, we no longer do. It's—"

  "Ach, always argue, argue, argue," said Kraki. He vaulted over the bar, found a five-gallon jug, held it to the tap, and began to fill it with ale.

  Sidney and Timaeus glared at each other past a bemused von Kremnitz.

  Jasper sighed. "It may perhaps be impolite of us to say so, but we lave just met. Our reception hereabouts has not, so far, predisposed us to place our trust in chance acquaintances. Perhaps you could tell us a little about yourself."

  "Of course," said von Kremnitz, getting off his stool, putting his heels together, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve, and making a formal bow, waving the handkerchief gracefully. "Pablo von Kremnitz, Leftenant, Mayoral Foot Guards."

  The others introduced themselves. Timaeus picked up a pipe cleaner and began to draw it through the stem of his disassembled meerschaum.

  "You are, therefore," said Jasper, "an agent of the Hamsterian state?"

  "In a manner of speaking," said von Kremnitz, retaking his seat.

  "I think it wise, then, for us to maintain a degree of discretion," Jasper said. His glass of wine rose and tilted back. Timaeus snorted and probed at the bowl of his pipe with a tool.

  Von Kremnitz stiffened. "You propose to injure the interests of Hamsterburg?"

  "Not at all," said Jasper soothingly. "We are, in fact, more or less indifferent to the interests of Hamsterburg. We are more interested in the fate of humanity as a whole. Indeed, of the Free Peoples in their great contest with the Slave States of the—"

  "Oh, come on," said von Kremnitz, chortling. "I mean, what do you take me for?"

  "Here you are," said the innkeeper cheerily, sweeping into the room with an enormous platter piled high with cold mutton, olives, caponato, bread, sliced tomatoes, and various alimentary pastes.

  "My word," said Timaeus, "that does look good." For a long time, the only sounds were those of mastication—joined by thumps and shouts from below.

  "Sounds like our friends are recovering," said Nick.

  "Are they secure down there?" asked Sidney.

  "Only one way out. We pulled up the ladder and barred the door," said Nick.

  "Moreover," said Jasper, "I imagine they will be more concerned with the state of their heads than escape for quite a while."

  "Hung over, you think?" asked von Kremnitz.

  "Massively," said Jasper complacently.

  When the repast had been cleared away, Timaeus turned to Lotte. "Now, then, madam," he said. "Within the past fortnight, a small battle has been fought in these parts, has it not?"

  "Aye, sir," she said.

  "A fellow by the name of Broderick de Biddleburg rode with the Graf von Grentz. A grave with a marker bearing his name lies by the battle site. Would you know if, in truth, his body lies within it?"

  "I'm sorry," she said, "I don't know that name."

  "The man who stole your horse," Frer Mortise said.

&nbs
p; Lotte grimaced. "Yes," she said. "I heard he died. And serve him right."

  "The elves had a statue," said Nick. "Did von Grentz take it?"

  "Oh," said Lotte, "yes. Most of the town watched from the ridge, you know. Yes, there was a big brown statue with the elves, and the graf put it into a wagon—took the wagon from Johnny Muller without so much as a by-yourleave."

  "And where did they take it?" asked Jasper.

  Lotte shrugged. "Back to the castle, I imagine," she said.