One Quest, Hold the Dragons

by Greg Costikyan

  Timaeus stood by the ragged hole he'd cut in the fence, and took Kraki's hand. "Step up, now, there's a good fellow," he said to the barbarian. Kraki picked up one foot and moved it cautiously forward, the toe of his sandal touching an iron bar; he raised the sandal higher, found the hole, and stepped awkwardly through.

  "Are ve outside?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Timaeus, offering a hand to Nick. Sidney had already darted through the bars, had resumed human form, and was now donning her clothes, which, miraculously, had not been stolen in her absence. Von Kremnitz was next in line.

  "Brother," said Timaeus to Mortise, as the cleric also took on human shape, "can you do something about Kraki's blindness?"

  "Yes, perhaps," said Mortise, "but I believe the condition is temporary. Anyhow, I don't recommend hanging about; perhaps we should retire to the pension."

  "The Maiorkest is closer," said von Kremnitz.

  "What good would going there do?" asked Timaeus. "We've no hard evidence to offer the Lord Mayor."

  "Quite so," agreed Jasper. "We'll have to try again, this time with a little planning. Actually, it's astounding we're all in one piece; on the whole, we've been quite lucky."

  "If you call it luck," snarled Sidney, "you half-wit."

  "Now, Sidney," said Jasper.

  "Save the recriminations for later, babe," said Nick. "The padre's right; let's get out of here."

  "Babe?" said Sidney incredulously. "If anyone's behavior is infantile, Pratchitt, it's—"

  "Oh, please," said Timaeus tiredly. "I've had quite enough for one evening, and the pension is a good mile from here. This way, I think."

  Jasper flitted on ahead, embarrassedly avoiding further conversation. Timaeus and the others followed, more sedately.

  Clang! A noise resounded from all around, a noise like sheet metal falling on rock from an enormous height. Clang! There it was again.

  They turned toward the sound. A hansom cab careened around the corner, horses at gallop, metal-clad wheels rumbling over cobblestones. Clang!

  It tore past, horses alather, the coachman whipping them on. From inside, an alert-looking middle-aged woman, hair close-cropped in the manner of a soldier, peered out. The carriage passed.

  Behind the passenger cabin was a platform where trunks and luggage were often tied. There an old man precariously sat, clutching the brass luggage rack for dear life. As he passed, he gave them a toothless grin, and risked taking one hand from the rack long enough to send them a cheerful wave.

  A statue trailed the carriage, strung behind on sturdy cable. It flew through the air, fell toward the cobblestones with a—

  Clang!

  —and bounded into flight once more.

  The carriage, and its curious appendage, passed.

  Timaeus gaped after it. "I say," he said. "Wasn't that our—"

  Sidney was already charging down the street, waving her sword and shouting, "Stop thief!"

  "I like that," said Nick. "Pot calling the kettle—"

  "I'll trail them, shall I?" said Jasper gaily, as if glad of an opportunity to redeem himself. The green light zipped in pursuit.

  Stauer had found them a cold roast squab, some ham, pickled vegetables and mustard, and an undistinguished vin ordinaire; they lounged about the sitting room of their suite in the Pension Scholari, in poses indicating varying degrees of exhaustion. Kraki sprawled across a chaise longue, mouth open and snoring; Nick sat at a writing table, scribbling feverishly at something by the light of a candle, yawning from time to time and sipping his wine.

  Sidney sat on the edge of her chair, gnawing on a leg of squab. Transformation took quite a lot out of her; she was generally ravenous afterward, and this time was no exception. "What I say," she told Timaeus, "is that you're a damned optimist if you think we'll ever see Jasper again."

  "Oh, come, my dear," said Timaeus, lying well back in the soft pillows of the couch, a pickled onion in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. "He is Magister Mentis, after all, and more or less invisible to boot. If anyone is well suited to tailing the people who absconded with our statue, it is he."

  Sidney snorted. "He's well suited to acting the fool," she said. "If he hadn't flown over that fence—"

  "Then the statue would have been stolen from von Grentz, and we'd be none the wiser," von Kremnitz pointed out. The leftenant sat on a pillow on the floor, his scabbard poking rather awkwardly into the rug, a plate balanced atop his crossed legs.

  "Perhaps," said Sidney. "However—"

  "Who do you think has it?" asked Frer Mortise. He squinted even in the dim light of the candles, his pupils enormously wide.

  "Another of Hamsterburg's uncountably numerous factions, I expect," said Timaeus. "Don't suppose you recognized them, Leftenant?"

  "No, I'm afraid not," said von Kremnitz. "If Sir Jasper doesn't turn anything up, I'll go to the Maiorkest tomorrow morning; perhaps the Lord Mayor will have heard something."

  Sidney cleared her throat. "I think I recognized one of them," she said.

  Timaelus raised and eyebrow. "Mmm?"

  "The old man who waved at us," Sidney said. "Didn't he look familiar to you?"

  Timaeus blinked. "Well, they were moving rather fast," he said apologetically. "I'm afraid I didn't—"

  "I think it was Vic," said Sidney.

  Timaeus sat up sharply. "Vic?" he said. "Are you sure?"

  "No, I'm not sure," said Sidney with irritation. "But—"

  "Good heavens, what does this mean?" said Timaeus. "Suppose it is Vic. Does he want those people to have it? Is he testing us? Why did he disappear? What the devil is afoot?"

  Sidney shrugged. Timaeus looked at Mortise, then at von Kremnitz, but realized that neither of them had met Vincianus, and wouldn't have recognized him under the best of circumstances. However—"

  "Nick," he said, turning toward Pratchitt, who was sitting back in his chair and reading a piece of paper with a maniacal grin on his face. "Did you—what have you got there?"

  Nick stood up and turned toward his companions. "Just this," he said. He adopted a declamatory pose, and read:

  The Saga Of Kraki Elm-Slayer

  "sing now of kraki, he aptly named.

  sing of the deed that gave him his fame.

  "with brave companions, he raided the dragon.

  house of a kingling in far southern lands.

  took he his blade, heavy as mountains,

  raised it on hish with his michty hands.

  "blinded was he by untimely magic

  could not espy the mien of his foes.

  was he thereby deterred from attackinc,

  streakéd with yellow as the saying goes?

  "nay, never kraki leapt from the buiding,

  shouting the name of his famous forebear,

  Gostorn gaptoothéd, famous for eating

  eater of apricot, apple, and pear.

  "swung he his weapon—o. mighty swinging!

  felt blade strike hard in the flesh of his foe.

  yanked forth the weapon, whacked again fiercely.

  shouted his triumph like this: 'ho ho ho!'

  "never did man behold such a Giant

  as kraki did strive with that glorious night

  dozens of cubits rose his opponent

  many its limbs striking out in the fight.

  " 'ye shall be cloven,' swore our brave kraki,

  'I shall bisect ye from tuchus to tête.

  'swung he a last time—o michty swinging!

  so michty a stroke there never was yet.

  "down crashed the enemy limbs flailing blimly,

  crashed into flowers that lay all asout.

  round kraki gathered his brave companions

  awed and in reverence, Led kraki out.

  " 'ho,' boasted kraki, 'I have slain giants!

  those who are foemen better take care.'

  'yes, kraki, certainly', said his companions.'

  henceforth we know ye as kraki elm-slayer.

  " 's
lew ye the elm, battled it michtily,

  clove it in twain from taproot to twig.

  heroic the deed, as we deem it, certainly,

  never did we see a tree that's so big.'

  "so let all hail kraki, kraki elm-stayer,

  mighty tree-battler, scource of the wood.

  in all of our history never has there been

  such a great hero, one half as goos.

  "so hear me, children: if ye would be like him,

  eat up your vegetables as all children should."

  In the course of this recitation, Kraki had woken up, and now sat on the sofa, head between his knees. As Nick finished, he looked up and said, "Good thing poetry so bad, Nickie, or I have to kill you." He lay back down and turned over as if to go to sleep.

  "Poetry so bad!" Nick protested. "What do you mean, poetry so bad? You wouldn't know good poetry if—"

  "Scansion hokay," grunted Kraki. "No alliteration."

  Nick blinked. "No alliteration?" he said. "So what?"

  Kraki looked up. "Vhat you mean, so vhat? Vhat are you, some kind of modernist? Of course poetry must alliterate, so bard can memorize lines easier, resound in the souls of the listeners."

  "But it rhymes!" protested Nick.

  "Rhymes, shmymes," said Kraki, shrugging into the cushion. "Rhyming for sissies. Nobody in northland listen to newfangled rhyming stuff. Thank the gods, or I be chucklingstock of northland."

  "Laughingstock," said Nick automatically.

  "I'd suggest you stop arguing, Nick," said Timaeus, standing up and stretching. "If you persuade him of the virtues of modern poetical forms, he'll feel compelled to murder you."

  "Yeah, okay," said Nick. "What did you think—" But Timaeus had already closed the door of his bedroom behind him.

  Nick turned to the others, but they, likewise, were going to their rest.

  He went to the window and peered out it a moment, but there was nought to be seen but the glint of moonlight on cobbles, and chimney pots sticking up from distant roofs. The streets were silent, without birdsong, or insect noise, or the hubbub of humanity to bring them life. Nick sighed and tossed off the lees of his wine, and he, too, turned toward his room and sleep.

  VI

  Nick Pratchitt was awakened by distant bangs, the shouts of men, running feet in the street. Groggily he sat up, went to the window of his room, and peered outside. The aperture gave out on an alley; he could see only a slice of street at its end, and nothing untoward there. So he left for the sitting room, and threw back the curtains shielding the French doors.

  Somewhere, off across the city, a tendril of black smoke rose skyward; a major fire of some kind. Not far off, in a major avenue—Nick was still insufficiently familiar with Hamsterburg, and did not know its name—a barricade rose. It was hastily made, of furniture, bits of wood, sandbags-of whatever materials, apparently, the builders could find. About and atop it swarmed men and women in leather aprons, some shouting orders to others below.

  Elsewhere, people had gathered to listen to orators, while other folk ran through the streets, some with piles of possessions on their backs or in hand-drawn carts.

  A bang from behind Nick's shoulder startled him; he very nearly leapt from the balcony. "So it's happened," said Timaeus, puffing on his first bowlful of the morning. The wizard was barefoot, wearing a crimson robe.

  "Dammit, Timaeus," said Nick. "Give a guy some warning when you light your pipe, will you?"

  "Vhat's happened?" said Kraki groggily. He had been sleeping on the chaise longue in the sitting room, but voices, and Timaeus's explosion, had woken him.

  "Look thither," said Timaeus, gesturing toward the barricade with his pipe.

  Kraki peered outward. "They build a vall," he said. "The city is invaded?"

  "No," said Nick. "There's an uprising. Something's happened; we knew the city was on edge already . . ."

  Von Kremnitz, naked to the waist, peered over Kraki's shoulder, cursing steadily. He moved swiftly to the bellpull and gave it a yank. "Stauer will know something," he said. "Ye gods, it's the ninth hour; we have overslept."

  "Has anyone seen Jasper?" asked Sidney, entering from her bedroom.

  "Not as such," said Timaeus, "but there's something green on his bed." He shared a room with the mentalist.

  Sidney headed toward their bedroom, with the obvious intention of waking Jasper. While she was gone, there was a knock at the door. Nick opened it.

  Stauer stood in the hall, looking more than slightly worried. "Good morning, messieurs et madame," he said. "Please accept my profoundest apologies, but we will not have fresh eggs today; the city is in disorder, and our usual deliveries—"

  "Never mind that," said von Kremnitz peremptorily. "What is the news?"

  "Oh, my lord," said Stauer sadly, "they say that the Lord Mayor is dead."

  "What!" shouted von Kremnitz. "How did it happen?"

  "Not a mark was found on him, so the rumors say; he lay in his chamber, contorted in terror. A spell, perhaps, or some rare poison—but the streets are in chaos. Half the city says the Spider slew him; the Accommodationists are rising, and others assembling to oppose. They say there are armies outside the city, that—"

  "Who builds that barricade, over to the east?" asked Timaeus.

  "Sir?" said Stauer, blinking rapidly. "Ah—may I come in?"

  Nick moved out of the door to permit Stauer entry. Stauer went to the French doors, put his pince-nez to the bridge of his nose, and peered out. "Ah, in the Tetrine Way," he said. "Masons, by their garb."

  "And their faction?" asked Timaeus.

  "Their guild supported Siebert strongly," said von Kremnitz. "Most of the guilds did; one of his few sources of support."

  "Without power on the Council," said Stauer dismissively.

  "Or in the Gentes," agreed von Kremnitz. "What are they up to?" Nick asked.

  Stauer shrugged. "I suppose you'd have to ask them," he said. "Resisting the Accommodationists, I would assume."

  "Fine," said Nick. "Dandy. So the statue is gods know where, in a city in the throes of revolution. Tell you what, let's all go join a religious order; the Josemites, perhaps. We can spend the rest of our lives hoeing vegetables and flailing ourselves with leather thongs."

  "There, there, lad," said Jasper, whizzing into the room. "Fear not. Even in these dark hours—"

  "Just tell them," said Sidney dangerously, following him from the bedroom.

  "Yes, yes, of course, my dear," said Jasper. "You will cast your minds back to the events of last night, please. Asyou recall, I departed your company in hot pursuit of the statue-nabbers. I followed them, aloft—"

  "Excuse me, Jasper," said Timaeus.

  "Yes, what is it?" said Jasper, irritated at the interruption.

  "Miss Stollitt has expressed strong feelings, on prior occasions, on the subject of discretion," said Timaeus, rather stiffly. He nodded meaningfully in the direction of Stauer, who looked suspiciously back through his pince-nez.

  "Ah-no fresh eggs;" said von Kremnitz, after an awkward pause, "but can hotcakes be prepared?"

  "Yes," allowed Stauer. "Precisely what I was going to suggest. If you will forgive the intrusion-ah—may I ask whether your plans are likely to offer harm, or attract untoward attention, to my establishment?"

  "No, sir," said Timaeus. "I do not believe so."

  Stauer sighed, apparently rather frustrated to be excluded from their confidence. "It is my strongest belief," he said in a low voice, "that a host should respect his guests' privacy. I shall therefore depart, upon this assurance." He made for the door, turning at the lintel, and said, "I'll send a girl up with your pent déjeuner momentarily. Coffee?"

  "Tea," said Timaeus.

  Stauer shivered delicately; Hamsterians considered tea rather effete, though it was the preferred morning quaff of Urf Durfal. "If you wish," he said.

  And he closed the door quietly after him.

  "I like your man Stauer," Jasper told von Kremnitz.

&n
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