by Rick Cook
"Do not worry Wizard," a voice at once warm and soft as honey and hard and cold as iron rang in his head. "I will not eat you. Not yet, anyway."
"Uh, thanks," Wiz said. Bal-Simba frowned and started to speak, but Wiz motioned him to silence. Obviously Wiz was the only one who could "hear" the dragon.
Again the honey-and-iron voice rang in Wiz’s skull. "You may call me Wurm."
"Hello Wurm," Wiz said. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the courtyard. The afternoon sun had warmed the flagstones and the air was balmy and sweet with the scent of roses. None of which made Wiz feel any less like a turtle on a freeway.
"Since my presence here seems somewhat disconcerting, may I suggest that we come to the point?"
"Sounds good to me. Ah, what is the point?"
"I have a proposition for you."
" ’Proposition’ as in ’job’?"
The dragon "shrugged" in Wiz’s mind. "If you want to put it so crudely."
Wiz shook his head. "Sorry, I don’t hire out. There’s enough to do here."
The dragon "sounded" amused. "I think once you have heard the terms you will reconsider."
In spite of the mildness of the afternoon Wiz realized there was a trickle of sweat starting down his back. "Okay, what are the terms?"
"If you do this thing I will reward you richly. Gold, jewels, a heap of treasure higher than your head." A dismissive mental "shrug." "The usual."
"What if I don’t take the job?"
The dragon craned his neck high into the sky and peered down at Wiz as if he were something small and soft that had just crawled from beneath a rock. "Then," Wurm said with chilling calm, "I shall burn the town to ashes and ravage the countryside for miles around. And I shall continue until you do agree. Or until I am slain."
Looking up at the monster, Wiz had no doubt Wurm could do it, or that he would.
"Uh, let me think this over, will you?" Wiz ducked back into the doorway where the others were waiting.
"How hard is it to kill a dragon?"
"Difficult," Bal-Simba said in a low voice. "Dragons are inherently magical and their magic is extremely strong. Besides which they are large and powerful beasts." He looked intently at Wiz. "Has it come to that?"
"No, but it might. He wants me to take on a job for him and he’s got a real strong negative incentive plan."
"If we must fight him we had best buy time," the giant black wizard said. "I would advise you to ask him his proposition in detail."
Wiz stepped back out into the courtyard. "Okay, look. I can’t decide on the spur of the moment, but I am willing to listen. Why don’t you tell me the details?"
The dragon paused, as if thinking. "Very well then. Come with me and I will show you what I wish."
"Now I don’t know about…"
"Do you fear for your safety, Wizard?" Again Wurm sounded amused. "I told you I will not harm you and I will not. Besides," and he lowered his huge head almost to Wiz’s level and cocked it like a chicken watching a worm, "what could I do to you elsewhere that I could not do to you here?"
"It’s not that," Wiz assured him hastily. "It’s just that it’s not easy for me to just pack up and go. I mean I’ve got responsibilities here and…" Wurm raised his head above the castle wall. Then he daintily lifted a foreleg and inspected his three black front talons, each longer than Wiz was tall.
"I’m in the middle of these spells, you see…" Wiz continued weakly.
Without pausing to inhale, Wurm breathed a roaring jet of lambent blue flame perhaps fifty feet long. Wiz flinched back from the heat and noise. Behind him he heard screams as people stampeded for safety. But the dragon’s head was turned away from the Wizard’s Keep. Wurm extended his index talon until it was immersed in the fire. He held it there until the tip glowed bright red. Then he reached down and whetted the heat-softened claw on the rough stone of the castle wall. He left three smoking, foot-deep grooves in the stone before he was satisfied. Then he turned his attention back to Wiz.
"Now Wizard," the dragon said mildly, "you were saying?"
"Can you give me ten minutes to pack?"
Three: He Who Rides a Dragon…
Initial client contact is often the most delicate part of the project.
The Consultants’ Handbook
"I do not like this," Moira said as she and Wiz walked back out to the courtyard a few minutes later. Bal-Simba and the others were trailing by a few yards to give them some privacy.
Wiz grimaced. "It’s not my idea of a summer afternoon’s stroll either, but we don’t have a lot of choice."
"We could refuse the dragon now," she said fiercely, "and fight him if he wills it!"
"And get a lot of people killed unnecessarily." Wiz shook his head. "You heard Bal-Simba. We can’t protect the town right now, much less the countryside. In a few hours we’ll have the spells ready to hunt him down, but now we’ve got to buy time."
"And you are to be the sacrifice," Moira said bitterly. Then she sighed. "Oh, I know you are right, love. And so is Bal-Simba. But for once I wish it could be someone else."
Wiz stopped under the final gate and pulled her close, almost losing his staff in the process. "Come on, it’s not that bad. I’ve only got to stall him for a few hours and, hey, maybe the dragon wants something easy." He kissed her and felt her relax in his arms. "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Honest."
Moira broke away from him and tried to smile. "I know, love," she said softly.
"Besides, I’ve got this." Wiz held up his hand to show off his ring of protection. "Anything dangerous happens and this spell kicks in immediately. So quit worrying." He leaned close and kissed her again. Then he let go, turned and stepped out into the courtyard.
Wurm was where Wiz had left him. "Are you ready, Wizard?"
Wiz slipped the leather thong of his staff over his head and shoulder. Then he exhaled and tried to sound chipper. "Ready as I’ll ever be."
The dragon bent its enormous neck down and Wiz swung his leg over. Then the beast raised its head and the spines moved together, cradling Wiz gently but firmly between them. Wiz made himself as comfortable as he could and tried not to think what would happen if the dragon arched his neck further.
Instead Wurm raised his head and Wiz was carried aloft with the swooping suddenness of an amusement park ride. Before he could adjust to his new perspective the dragon pushed off the wall and unfurled his gigantic wings with a beat that sent wind swirling through the courtyard, kicking up stray leaves and blowing grit back in Wiz’s face. Wiz squinched his eyes shut involuntarily and nearly lost his lunch as his inner ear, deprived of a visual cross check, protested strongly. By the time he got his eyes open, the Wizard’s Keep was dwindling toy-like below and the land was spreading out like a patterned quilt beneath them.
Bareback on a dragon was not the most comfortable way to travel, Wiz discovered. At least not when you were riding a monster like Wurm. Unlike the cavalry mounts, Wurm was so large that a human could not straddle his neck comfortably. Trying to sit astride was like doing the splits. By extending his legs forward along the dragon’s neck Wiz could bring them comfortably close together, but that left him supporting most of their weight with his stomach muscles. Eventually he settled for a jockey-style seat with his legs drawn up as if his feet were in very short stirrups. If he shifted position frequently his muscles didn’t protest too badly.
To keep his mind off his muscles-and his predicament-he studied the scenery passing beneath them. As nearly as he could estimate from the size of the fields below they were about as high as an airliner flies. But airliners are heated and pressurized and there was no sign of either on Wurm’s neck. Still, legs and back aside, Wiz was as comfortable-well, as physically comfortable-as he had been back in the courtyard of the Wizard’s Keep. Wiz spent a few minutes considering the implications of that for this world’s physics and then finally dismissed it as magic.
After an hour or more Wiz began to fidget, and not just from the cramps.
They were passing beyond the lands of man and well into the Wild Wood. "How much further is it?" he asked.
"Far enough," his host/mount replied.
"I mean when will we get there?"
"When we arrive." The dragon sounded amused. "You mortals, always so fastened on time and distance."
"I thought dragons were mortal too. I mean you die don’t you?"
"Even the ever-living can die, Wizard, as you know. Mortal implies a finite life-span."
"Well, don’t dragons grow old and die?"
"Grow old, yes. But I have never heard of a dragon dying naturally."
That had several implications and Wiz wasn’t sure he liked any of them. "How old are you?"
"I do not know. Even if I had remembered to count the seasons, we do not become self-aware until we are nearly full grown. Ask the little one in the courtyard how old he is and see what you get for an answer."
"The little one… oh, you mean the young dragon."
Again the amusement in Wurm’s "voice." "There was no one else in the courtyard as I recall."
"That’s the pet, uh, playmate of a friend’s kid. He calls him Fluffy for some reason."
"That is because he is," Wurm said in Wiz’s head.
"Fluffy?"
"Of course. Can you not sense it?"
Wiz wasn’t sure whether the dragon was joking or not and considering the circumstances he didn’t want to find out.
"In any event," Wurm went on, "the experience will probably help him. Your kind is spreading everywhere and knowing humans well will serve him even better than it has served me."
"You were a cavalry mount, weren’t you?" Wiz asked with a sudden burst of insight.
"I was."
"I thought you said you didn’t remember before you became intelligent."
"I said we could not count. Just because we are not intelligent does not mean we do not remember."
Wiz wondered if dragons bore grudges.
"In probability it helped me," Wurm said, so quickly Wiz’s next wonder was if dragons could read minds. "Most of my kind die before they attain reason. A few score years fed and cared for undoubtedly bettered my odds."
"But don’t your parents take care of you?"
"We are able to care for ourselves from the moment we hatch," the dragon said. "Our mother is long gone before our birth."
"I’m sorry."
"Why? It is the way of dragonkind since time began. We avoid the entanglements of those who are born in groups of their kind and it ensures we will be strong and clever-those who survive."
Wurm didn’t say it but the subtext was clear: This was one strong, clever dragon.
They flew a while more in silence.
"Wurm? When you were in the cavalry whose side were you on? I mean who…"
"Does it matter, Wizard?" There was a trace of irritation in the dragon’s thought. "It was long ago, it happened and it is done. That is enough."
Wiz didn’t try to make any more small talk.
Northward they flew, and eastward, for what seemed like hours. The sun rose to noon and sank toward the western horizon as they traveled. Below them the neatly tended fields and villages of the World of humans gave way to the rolling green of the Wild Wood and that in turn to a land of jumbled mountain ranges and steep, narrow valleys. Then gradually the mountains flattened and the valleys widened into gently sloping grasslands. The forest did not come back, save in scattered patches, but the land was green and pleasant. Squinting ahead Wiz could see more mountains rising off in the distance.
"Yonder lie the Dragon Lands," Wurm informed him. "Do you wish to turn back now, Wizard?"
Wiz hesitated. Part of him wanted more than anything to turn around and go home. But there was another part of him that drove him grimly onward. There was a problem here and he had to solve it. Had to.
Besides, if they turned around now it meant more agonizing hours riding dragonback.
"No," Wiz told Wurm. "Let’s go on."
Wurm’s expression didn’t change but Wiz felt the dragon "nod" mentally. There was a small, distant part of him that told him he ought to be worried about that.
Wiz glanced at the sinking sun and estimated the distance to the mountains. "Is that where we’re heading?"
"Our destination is somewhat closer," the dragon said and, without word or warning, winged over and dropped steeply. Wiz whooped in terrified surprise and wrapped both arms around the spine in front of him. He had a confused, whirling view of a broad grassy valley cut by a meandering river with a substantial village or small city nestled along its banks. Then everything was hidden by Wurm’s enormous wings as they locked to brake for a landing.
"Dismount. We are here."
"Fine," said Wiz, trying to throw his leg over the dragon’s neck. He found it was numb from hours of sitting and he had to use both hands to hoist the leg over so he could slide off.
He tried to step away from Wurm’s side and his knees nearly buckled.
"Where is here?" he asked to cover his embarrassment.
"The Dragon Marches," Wurm told him. "Here the lands of mortals run to the borders of the Dragon Lands."
They were on a grassy knoll beside a dirt road that wound through the valley toward the village in the distance. Dotted here and there he could see clusters of buildings that looked like farmsteads. The fields were laid out in strips, most emerald green with growing grain. The air was cool but not unpleasant and the breeze whispered gently through the grass.
Wiz took a couple of tottering steps. His legs were more or less working again, but his lower back ached terribly and his butt was on fire as the circulation returned.
"I didn’t think people could live beyond the Wild Wood because of the magic."
"Humans have spread further than your Council of the North ever knew," Wurm told him. "Here there is magic, but less than in the Wild Wood."
"So I see." Wiz shaded his eyes against the setting sun. Off toward the village he saw movement on the road, as if people were coming this way.
"Okay," Wiz grunted, stretching backwards to try to get the kinks out of his back, "now what’s this job of yours?"
The dragon regarded Wiz with an unwinking golden eye.
"It is not my job, precisely," Wurm told him. "Rather it is for them. The ones who live in this valley."
"I thought you…"
The dragon breathed a thunderous snort of amusement. "What need would I have of mortal magic? It is the inhabitants of the valley who need you."
Wiz looked down the road. There was definitely a crowd of people headed toward them.
"Okay, why do they need me?"
"Why to defend them against dragons," Wurm told him. Then with a sudden motion and a thunderclap of air beneath his enormous wings the dragon launched himself into the sky, leaving Wiz to face the people of the valley.
"Remember, Wizard," Wurm’s voice came into Wiz’s mind. "Your duty is to them. Fulfill it well."
There were perhaps a hundred people coming up the road in a compact mass. Welcoming committee? Wiz thought. But why didn’t we just land closer to the village? Most of them were carrying things, as if they had left their work to come welcome him. As they drew closer he could hear them, a low rumble that somehow didn’t sound like cheering. In fact it sounded downright ugly.
By then the crowd was close enough that he could make out details. They were all men, mostly roughly dressed and all carrying something. Some of them had pitchforks, some of them were carrying flails and pruning hooks and some of them just had big sticks. None of them looked in the least bit friendly.
"Uh, hi," Wiz said, smiling weakly.
Moira fidgeted in the window seat looking north. Outside the bottoms of the clouds were turning pink in the setting sun. To the embroidery in her lap she had managed to add perhaps a dozen stitches.
"Negotiation or not, he should have been back by now," she announced.
Bal-Simba looked over from the oversized arm chair across the room. "L
ong before now," the black giant amended. "At the very least he should have contacted us."
By unspoken consent they had gathered in the programmers’ workroom. Danny and Jerry worked at their desks, Bal-Simba had settled himself into his special chair and relayed instructions through his assistant, Arianne. June, Danny’s wife, was sitting in the corner with Ian asleep in her lap and Moira was in the window seat looking out the way Wiz had gone.
The first several hours after Wiz’s departure had been a rush of frantic effort as programmers and wizards alike prepared for battle with the dragon. In several places in the castle wizards of the Mighty were still casting spells and apprentice programmers were still laboring, but in the main preparations had been complete for a couple of hours. Now as the long summer day drew to a close there was nothing left to do but wait and watch for some sign of Wiz or the dragon.
Danny turned from his workbench. "Time for the locator spell?"
Moira stood up. "Past time."
Once before Wiz had been kidnapped. As a result all the programmers carried a spell which would locate them anywhere in the World.
Jerry took down a beaten copper bowl from the top of a corner cabinet. The bowl was nearly hidden by scrolls and papers and he almost caused a small avalanche as he worked it free.
"We need some water," Jerry said looking around.
Moira snatched up the vase she had filled with flowers only hours before, tossed the flowers on the floor and extended it to Jerry.
As Jerry poured water into the bowl, Arianne entered, perhaps summoned by Bal-Simba. She stood beside him while they completed preparations.
Finally Jerry took a splinter from a vial and floated it carefully on the water’s surface.
arg wiz locate exe! Jerry commanded.
As the five leaned over the bowl, the needle spun twice around widdershins, quivered and then slowly drifted off until it was pointing firmly south.
"South?" Danny protested. "But they went north."
"The needle points south," Moira said. "They must have circled around when they were out of sight of the castle."
Jerry frowned. "Hold it." He reached into the bowl and nudged the sliver of wood gently with his finger. The needle swung aimlessly and finally stopped, pointing in another direction entirely.
