One Quest, Hold the Dragons

by Greg Costikyan

  Wolfe fiddled with more rods, cams, and dials; after seconds that seemed like eons, she turned the great wheel again, reversing her original rotation. And the door swung open. G breathed relief.

  "How did you do that?" she asked.

  Wolfe gave her a glance. "I watched von Grentz do it, of course," she said. G's appreciation of her talents rose several notches.

  Wolfe was the first to enter the vault. She jumped as if startled, and said, "Who . . . ," cutting the sentence short almost as soon as she began to utter it. G peered from behind her.

  A light had gone on as the door opened; a globe at the back of the room glowed brightly green, emitting faint screams as it did. G didn't know what spell powered it and, judging by the screams, didn't want to know. The statue was there, lying on a table at the vault center; there were shelves and, oddly, filing cabinets; but there were none of the heaped jewels and golden coins G had expected to see.

  "The old man again," Wolfe muttered, just audibly enough for G to hear her.

  "What old man?" asked G.

  "I thought—never mind," said Wolfe. "Trick of the light, I suppose. Chad, come here."

  The troll stepped into the vault and began to examine the statue. Dealing with it was his problem; G took the opportunity to take a closer look at the vault. A modest assortment of gold ingots did sit on one shelf, doing something to satisfy her desire to see golden treasure, but filing cabinets occupied the bulk of the room. Could von Grentz possibly value information on his enemies more greatlythan money? "This is a great lord's treasure?" G said incredulously.

  Wolfe gave her a brief look. "Money in vaults doesn't pay interest," she said.

  Of course, G thought. They'd invest the money. Probably those filing cabinets held a good many stock certificates and other—hmm. Other negotiable instruments. She pulled open a drawer.

  "No time for that," Wolfe snapped. "Chad, can you carry it?"

  The troll was already moving about the statue, tying it in a network of rope. G was surprised at the suppleness of his fingers as he tied the knots; trolls might lurch clumsily, but they did not seem to be clumsy in every respect. "Yah," said Chad. "Hard work, though. Help me get it onto floor." He took hold of Stantius's ankles and, grunting, rotated the statue so that it lay across the table's short dimension. Then, while G and Wolfe heaved up. on the shoulders, he tilted the feet down until Stantius was standing atop the vault floor. Taking two heavy ropes, one over each shoulder, he backed up to the statue, crouched down, and pulled the ropes until they were taut. He passed the ropes through a series of loops, knotting them several times, back around the statue, and through his harness. At last he was done. He strained upward and forward, grunting with effort, until at last he stood erect, bearing Stantius on his back. "Let's go," Chad said, his voice revealing more than a little strain.

  They did. They left the vault door open. No one had yet returned to the guardroom; G fretted at that, for the escaped guard should have raised the alarm by now. Perhaps the household was still preoccupied with whatever had been going on out on the lawn; she hoped so, for otherwise they were almost certainly walking into a trap: They made their way back to the wine cellar at a run and maneuvered through the racks. Chad moved awkwardly with Stantius atop his back; he knocked another wine rack down, almost onto G, who cursed, but had the presence of mind to snatch a magnum of something as it fell past her. A Sang du Démon, she saw, stuffing it into one of her cloak's voluminous pockets. As she climbed the cellar steps onto the lawn, it banged uncomfortably against her thighs.

  Wolfe peered out into the night. The hellhounds had gone quiet, but there were the sounds of weapons clashing, men yelling, and what sounded peculiarly like someone chopping down a tree from their left. "Come on," said Wolfe, and loped out toward the hydrangeas, a saber stolen from one of the dead soldiers in her hand.

  G cursed; she would have preferred to reconnoiter first, but there was, after all, something to be said for headlong speed. Chad pounded behind her, his breath coming in gasps.

  The gnome was still there, or its remnants; and there was the tunnel lip, down which Wolfe had already disappeared. G dived into the tunnel, scrabbling through dirt on her hands and knees. "Wait," said Chad behind her.

  She paused, unable to turn in the cramped confines of the tunnel. "What is it?"

  "I can't do this," said Chad. "Statue too big. I get stuck."

  G cursed, and shouted for Wolfe. There was no response. She continued down the tunnel, to find Wolfe already outside the fence, bending over her magic pouch, which, as expected, no one had yet stolen. The earth mage was still there, too, talking in his usual slow way. "Uhhhhhhhnnnnnnng," he said.

  "The tunnel's too small for Chad," G said, "with the statue on his back."

  Wolfe blinked. "It's always something," she said, and dived back into the tunnel.

  G sighed; she had no desire to follow, but supposed she must.

  "Cllllllle," said the earth mage.

  G bent down to enter the tunnel. Uncle? What the hell was he saying "uncle" for?

  Rottwald, chanting her spell, ran full tilt toward Timaeus and von Kremnitz. Timaeus was momentarily confused, but quickly realized what she was up to. "Down," he yelled, slapping von Kremnitz on the shoulder.

  Kraki, shouting his usual "Yah hahs!" and "Die, foul vights!" continued to chop at the elm.

  Von Kremnitz responded to Timaeus's order with alacrity; he didn't know much about magic, but a fire mage, sprinting toward one and chanting a spell, obviously meant trouble.

  Timaeus grabbed the fringe of his cloak with both hands and hurled himself atop von Kremnitz, spreading the garment as he did. He prayed that he and his cloak, between them, would shelter his companion; the cloak, like all his clothes, was fire-resistant. That was a necessity for a fire mage; elsewise, an ill-timed spell would leave one starkers, and while the lower classes might not balk at that, a gentleman must adhere to certain proprieties.

  Mere steps from them, the woman exploded into flame. Above her, a branch of the elm took fire. Sidney threw herself from the tree, yowling at her singed fur.

  A silent moment passed. The breeze began to dissipate the choking smoke. Flames crackled from the Drachehaus window. Kraki had been startled by the bang, but quickly resumed the attack against the elm. "Yah-hah!" he bellowed, sword chunking into heartwood. "Take that, foul giant!"

  "Get the hell off of me," said von Kremnitz from underneath Timaeus.

  Timaeus got gingerly to his feet; he was uninjured. But then, he'd been at the center of a fireball's blast often enough that it no longer fazed him. "I resent your tone," he said. "I may well have saved your life."

  "Next time you save-my life, be so kind as to lose a few pounds first," said von Kremnitz. "Whatever happened?"

  "She teleported out," Timaeus said, "leaving a fireball behind her. A sensible thing to do, with her allies gone."

  With a cry of triumph, Kraki dealt the elm a final blow. While Rutherford, Nick, and Egbert shouted in dismay, the mighty shade tree toppled away from the Drachehaus and crashed into a bed of peonies. Von Grentz lay, unconscious and snoring, by the stump of the fallen elm.

  "Ha!" shouted Kraki, brandishing his broadsword triumphantly. "So fare all who face the sword of Kraki! Is that you, Timaeus?"

  "Yes, Kraki," said Timaeus. "Ah, there you are, Nick, my boy. Now there's just Jasper." Nick extracted himself from the branches of the fallen tree and joined the others. The center of his vision was still filled with bright afterimages, but he could at least see things at the periphery.

  "How do you mean?" asked Jasper, the green light whizzing down to join them.

  Sidney gave a hiss and leapt at the green light, which dodged away. "I say, Sidney," said Jasper. "What is thewell, yes, perhaps I was a bit rash to-I am sorry, you're quite—Please! I do not expect such language from a lady ... Yes, all right, you're not a lady, you're a cat, but I must say—"

  "Shut up, Sidney," said Nick, to the apparently silent cat. "We'
d better get out of here while we have the chance."

  "Ho," said Kraki, wandering in their direction. "This vill be a day of vhich the bards vill sing, eh? The day that Kraki Kronarsson slew the giant of Drachehaus! Singlehanded, blinded that I be—'

  "Ah," said Timaeus, "that explains it."

  "In single combat, I slew the monster. I chopped him limb from limb—"

  "You've got that right," said Nick.

  "And cleaved him from pate to pelvis," declared Kraki with satisfaction. "Behold!" And he gestured toward the fallen elm with his sword, nearly decapitating Nick in the process.

  "More like from twig to taproot," said Timaeus. He took Kraki's arm. "Come on, Kraki, O mighty slayer of elms. Aim your heroic feet this way." He began to lead the barbarian away from the Drachehaus and toward the street.

  "Vhat?" protested Kraki, as Timaeus and Nick dragged him away. "Vhat you mean, slayer of elms?"

  "What do you make of all this?" asked Egbert, as he gave Rutherford a hand down from the branches of the fallen tree.

  "Thought Gerlad was a solid sort," said Rutherford, "but, by Dion, he can't even keep order in his own household. How he expects a man to get a little shuteye with fireballs exploding and battles raging in the front garden, I'm damned if I—I say. Here he is in the very flesh."

  Rutherford had nearly stumbled over the unconscious body of Gerlad, Graf von Grentz, lying naked by the ragged stump that was all Kraki had left of the elm.

  "Cousin Gerlad," said Egbert, kneeling and shaking the graf. "I say, old bean, do wake up."

  Von Grentz's eyes opened.

  "Sleeping out tonight?" said Rutherford. "Nice weather for it."

  Von Grentz sat bolt upright. "Where are-What —" Dazedly, he took in the flames licking from the window of his mansion, the elm afire. His eyes had difficulty focusing; indeed, he was seeing double, slightly concussed from the blow to his head. "Rottwald," he croaked, got raggedly to his feet, and staggered off toward the front of the house.

  "Nary so much as a `How are you, cousin,' " complained Egbert.

  "Well, his house is on fire," observed Rutherford.

  Egbert looked up at the window. "Quite right," he said. It occurred to him that Millicent was presumably still in the house. She was in the house, and the house was burning. She was in the house, the house was burning; therefore, she was in dire peril. She was in the house, the house was burning, she was in dire peril-dire peril from which a gallant young man might rescue her. Just the thing, thought Egbert; a gallant young man going to the rescue of his lady love, cradling her in his arms, striding heroically from the blaze. "Um—to for now, Rutherford, old man," he said, and set off for the nearest ingress, a bottom-floor window.

  Somewhat parallel thoughts had been running through Rutherford's head. "Stop, you rakehell," he shouted, hastening after the younger man.

  "All right, Chad," said Wolfe, "back out." She turned to G. "You were right; he doesn't fit."

  G had just about changed her mind again; maybe she would kill Wolfe after all. "You think I make these things up for the hell of it?" she snarled. "Of course I was right."

  "What do we do?" asked Chad.

  "Dig out the hole," said G.

  "Right," said Wolfe. "With what shovel?"

  "Hands, I guess," said G.

  Wolfe snorted. "Take us forever," she said. "Chad, take off the statue."

  Chad obliged, more than happy to shed the burden. Wolfe examined the statue, and Chad's ropes, with interest. "Will that cable pull the statue?" she asked.

  "It's heavy enough," said Chad. "Double it up to be sure."

  Wolfe nodded. "Good," she said. "Unknot some, a longenough length to run through the tunnel, with, oh, twenty cubits to spare. Is there enough rope?"

  Chad blinked, slow mind puzzling over the request. "Yah," he said.

  "We going to pull it through?" asked G.

  "Something like that," said Wolfe. As soon as the rope was ready, she grabbed it and crawled back down the tunnel.

  G sighed. "I wish she'd tell us what the hell she's going to do," she said.

  "Soldiers!" said Chad in a sudden panic. He pointed at something behind her back and crouched down, looking as if unsure whether to flee in panic or to dig a hole to hide in. "Bad men kill Chad! Save Chad, G!"

  G whirled, hands going to her weapons. Ambling toward them was an old woman, holding an oil lamp over her head with one hand, the other hand bearing a hoe. She was clad in heavy canvas trousers and clogs, and mumbling something toothlessly.

  ". . . three yearsh before the bloody privet will—Who the devil are ye?" she demanded.

  "Kill her, G," whined Chad, groveling in the dirt with fear. "Kill her!"

  "You're a disgrace to your species," said G. She turned to the old woman and said, in a soothing tone, "We're just leaving."

  "Well, leave, then, by damn," said the old woman. "Not a raise in pay in eighteen yearsh, and the bashtard fightsh a bloody war amid me damned peoniesh! Bigodsh, and here'sh a molehill the shize o' Mount Cernitash. Finish yer damned business and get out, shay L" She turned and wandered back toward the shed.

  "She'll bring soldiers!" whined Chad.

  "Oh, shut up," said G. "She's just the gardener. Harmless enough."

  "G!" came a low voice from the cast-iron fence.

  "What is it, Wolfe?" asked G.

  "Shove the statue up to the mouth of the tunnel, and get the hell out of there," said Wolfe.

  "Coming, darling," said G. "Give me a hand, Chad."

  When they crawled out of the tunnel, they found the hansom cab and a rather confused driver standing in the street.

  "... d'ye mean, ye'll go back now?" the driver was saying. "Ye just got here, ma'am."

  "Nevertheless," Wolfe insisted, "we wish to return to the Albertine Lodge."

  "Whhhhhhhaaaaaaat'sssssss," said the earth mage.

  "Not like that," said the driver. "Ye're all covered with muck. I shan't have ye smearing it about in me cab."

  "We'll recompense you for that," said Wolfe soothingly. "Here, Chad, give me a hand."

  "Goooooooiiiiiiinnnnnnng," said the earth mage.

  "What you want Chad do?" asked the troll.

  "Tie these ropes to the axle of the carriage," Wolfe ordered, which Chad began to do.

  "Now what's this?" demanded the driver. "If ye damage the vehicle—"

  Wolfe sighed. "Look here," she said. "Just shut up and do as we say, and I'll pay you ten pounds argentum."

  The driver sat bolt upright. "It's not illegal, is it? madam?" he quavered. "Me license—"

  "The Ministry will answer for any irregularities," Wolfe said soothingly.

  "Ten pounds?" demanded G. "Isn't that—"

  "I'm under budget," Wolfe said, practically snarling. "Get in." G did.

  "Ooooooonnnnnnn?" said the earth mage.

  "Chad done," announced the troll.

  "Good," said Wolfe, climbing into the cab. "You get in, too."

  Chad began to do so, then hesitated. "What about him?" he asked, gesturing toward the wizard, who was only now, rather confusedly, registering the hansom cab's reappearance.

  "Throw him in," said Wolfe, which Chad proceeded to do, bodily picking up the wizard and tossing him into the hansom.

  "Now," said Wolfe, sticking her head out a window to talk to the driver. "On the count of three, gallop like the wind."

  "Yes, ma'am," said the driver respectfully, touching the brim of his top hat.

  Wolfe counted to three. The hansom set into motion, jolting its riders. The horses had just attained a gallop when there was another jolt-the ropes going taut, yanking on the axle.

  The cab skittered from side to side, wheels running up against the curb and striking sparks, as its momentum drew the statue through the tunnel. Finally, the statue was free, bouncing off the cobblestones behind them with a noise like Fithold, the god of the forge, whanging on his celestial anvil.

  G, who had stuck out her head to watch the statue bounding
along behind, pulled back into the cab. "Won't it be damaged?" she asked.

  "It's made of athenor," Wolfe said. "Isn't much in the world that can damage it."

  G mulled that over. "People on our route aren't going to get much sleep tonight," she said. "Discreet it isn't."

  "Stantz didn't tell me to be discreet," said Wolfe illtemperedly. "He just told me to get the statue. Well, there it damned well is."