The Compleat Enchanter: The Magical Misadventures of Harold Shea

by L Sprague De Camp; Fletcher Pratt

  Shea grinned, "Well, yes, since you mention it." He turned to Dolon. "I can take this weakness off you. But I'm sure master like you would have a much better method than anything I could use. If you'll give the spell to me, I'll use it instead of my own."

  "Marry, that will I. Few youngsters are so polite as to appreciate the powers of the masters these days. Bend down —"

  Artegall raised a feeble hand to Belphebe. "What ails you, girl? Fall on these caitiffs! Slay them."

  "The squire and I have a truce."

  "A truce!" he growled. "Make a truce with the devil, or the Da Derga, but not with these enemies, of human kind. The queen's majesty shall hear of this."

  Shea was working the spell on Chalmers. As he got up he grunted: Thank you, Harold. Really, do we have to go on —"

  "Shut up, Doc," snapped Shea. He didn't intend to have his delicate bit of finagling gummed up at this stage. Then he turned to Dolon and worked the spell again.

  The magician seemed annoyed that Chalmers should have preceded him, but it turned out to be a good idea. The moment Dolon was on his feet, he snatched up one of the discarded sacrificial knives and flung himself towards the helpless Artegall. Belphebe tripped him as he tried to go past. Before he could get up, Shea was on his back with one hand on his neck and the other on his wrist. "Drop that!" he yelled.

  The magician's bulbous body heaved convulsively. Shea found himself gripping the neck of an enormous snake of the python type. With horror he felt the immense rubbery strength of the thing as ii writhed a section from under him and tried to throw a coil around his body.

  But, as the snakes have no hands, Dolon had perforce dropped the knife. Shea put the edge of it against the scaly throat. "Change back," he gritted, "or I'll saw your head right off!"

  Dolon changed back. "Are you clean daft?" he sputtered. "There's a stinking fool 'prentice for you — ruining our chance to get rid of our greatest enemy."

  "Not at all, master," said Shea, relaxing his grip a trifle.

  "You forget there's a truce on. Belphebe and I agreed not to have any scrapping until we've separated."

  "You mean to keep your word with them? 'Tis against nature and therefore void."

  Shea clamped down his grip again and turned to Artegall. "If I release you from the weakness spell, will you give me your word of honour to let us have a two-hour start?"

  "Fool! Doltard!" shouted Dolon. But Artegall settled the question. "Covenant with an enchanter? Not I! Slay me if you will; you shall nor rid yourselves of all Gloriana's knights so easily!"

  Shea sighed at the unreasonableness of men. "Doc, watch Dolon for a minute, will you?" He got up and said to Belphebe; "Take care of him after we go." Then, more softly: "Say, how can I get in touch with you again?"

  She thought. "If you go not beyond the confines of this great wood and know but how to call my unicorn of the forest — not that ungainly great beast of yours —"

  "Can you whistle the tune for me — softly?" She did so, and he followed till he could do it. But she finished with a smile. "I misdoubt you could entice her close enough. These unicorns fear not maidens, but men they are greatly wary of."

  Shea pondered, then drew Chalmers aside leaving Belphebe to guard Artegall against Dolon. "Doc, can you conure up sugar?"

  "Harold, you are a continual source of astonishment to me. I really feel quite wont out, though. I'm incapable of coherent effort —"

  Shea shook him by the shoulders. "Listen, Doc!" he said fiercely. "I'm pretty close to the edge of collapse myself, but if you ever want to see Florimel again, you can't let me down! This is just a little applied psychology; to wit, setting up an androphiliac fixation in the libido of one female unicorn. Now, go to it!"

  Water, charcoal from the remains of one of the Da Derga's cooking fires, and a spell produced a double handful of neat patty-shaped moulds of maple sugar, which Shea rather dubiously guessed would do. The unicorn sniffed suspiciously from a distance, then under Belphebe's coaxing teetered close enough to taste. It munched meditatively, wiggling its ears, then reached out its muzzle for more. Shea fed it another piece, then ostentatiously put the remainder in his pocket. "All right," he said, "we're off. Say, Belphebe, maybe you better hitch J. Edgar Hoover's feet to the unicorn and haul him off before the Da Derga come back to see what happened. He glanced at the glowering Dolon. "Two hours truce now, and you can thank Heaven they took her bow away."

  The dark was beginning to close in. As they reached the road, Dolon worked a spell and produced a horse. He mounted. "Hey!" said Shea. "What about us?"

  "I say a pox on you, 'prentice, for a rebellious rogue. Wend afoot and learn what it is to flout the great Dolon."

  Shea put on a sly grin. "You don't understand, master. Don't you think it pays for the Chapter to have someone that the opposition thinks is a real man of honour? I'm just building myself up for the job. When we get ready to put something really good over on that bunch and catch a lot of them at once, instead of just these two, I'll come in handy.

  Dolon considered a moment, then a smile ran round his red, full lips. "Oho! Sits the wind so? You want that red-polled baggage, eh?" Well, when we capture her, you shall have her before she goes to the torture chamber — if the Chapter chooses to admit you. For I tell you fairly I doubt you are skilled enough in the more practical forms of magic."

  Chalmers spoke up. "Ahem. You confessed, Doton, that you of the Chapter occasionally . . . uh . . . work at crosspurposes."

  "Aye. 'Tis the nature of things. For look you, magic is an art disorderly."

  "But it isn't! We can show you how to change all that."

  "Here's strange doctrine! Do you jest?"

  "Not at all. Didn't you notice the Druids' methods of doing magic?"

  "Those priests of the Da Derga? Magic they have, aye, but so meagre a sort any lout can outdo them."

  "That's not the point. It's not what they do, but how they do it. One man invokes their gods; another changes the altar from wood to stone, and so on. One man per function, and all timed to work together. That's real organization. Now, if . . . uh . . . your Chapter were organized like that —"

  Shea cut in: "You've been trying to break down Queen Gloriana's government, and set up a council of magic to rule in its place, haven't you?" Nobody had told him that, but it seemed a reasonable guess.

  "That we have; but the others worked singly, without any such leaders as myself to guide them."

  "But even you, master, you're only one, and can't be everywhere at once. As it stands, your Chapter is a professional guild. It keeps you from cutting each other's throats by competition, but that's all. You won't get anywhere just bopping off an occasional knight. We can show you how to make a real organization out of it with all the parts working together as smoothly as the Faerie knights work together. The beauty of such an organization is that when it gets such a man of genius as yourself to guide it, everyone in the organization becomes a kind of extension of the leader's personality. It's just as though your Chapter were made into twenty-one Dolons. Gloriana's government could never stand against that."

  "Ho-ho!" cried Dolon. "Now this proves once more that I am, as some are good enough to say, the great Dolon, and practically infallible in my judgment of men. I knew from the beginning that your minds held some noble and worthy plan for the advancement of the Chapter and the cause of magic. But I was forced to test you to bring it out. So — we are friends again, and I'll seal the bond by bringing forth your beasts and belongings."

  He wheeled his own horse behind a tree. He worked a spell that sent a pillar of smoke towering through the branches to catch the last rays of the sun. From beneath it Adolphus and Gustavus trotted out to stand in the twilight beside their masters, the former with Shea's épée at the saddle. Dolon came back, grinning as though at some private joke.

  "I shall present you to the Chapter as specialists in strange beasts," he remarked amiably. "That monster you rode to our rescue was as fearsome a hobgoblin as ever I sa
w, friend Harold. You see, I have the custom, not common among great men, of being affable to my juniors."

  It was growing very dark under the trees, and the horses began to stumble on the ruinous road. Another hour of riding brought them to an opening. Midway along it and fairly close to the road, a thatched hut stood in the inadequate moonlight. One window was lighted.

  "The castle of Busyrane," remarked Dolon.

  "It seems somewhat . . . uh . . . exiguous," offered Chalmers timidly.

  "Ho-ho! You know not our Archimage, who is a master of show and illusion, and sets such gulls to catch the unwary. Do but watch."

  As Dolon spoke the moon was blotted out. Shea heard a flutter of wings. Something brushed past his face. There was a sensation of insectlike crawling on his left hand that made him snatch it from the bridle. A long, low ululating shriek rose from out of the dark. The horse quivered uncertainly beneath him. Its hoofs clacked on stone in the velvet black. Down at stirrup level a face appeared. It had huge, drooping ears and ragged teeth fixed in a permanent grin above the pendulous lower lip. There was no source of light for it to be seen by, nothing but that face floating by itself.

  "The master makes you welcome and bids you dismount," mouthed the face indistinctly.

  A clawlike hand reached up to help Shea from his mount. Though by now well inured to shocks, he could not help a shiver at the clammy cold touch. Dolon chuckled behind him. He shook off the horrors and followed the guidance of the corpselike fingers down a corridor of utter dark. Something rustled, and he caught the sickening odour of cockatrice. A door closed. He was standing in a big room, blinking in a flood of light, with the other two beside him.

  An elderly man, wearing a palmer's robe like Chalmers', came forward to greet them. He smiled graciously. "Welcome, good Dolon! To what fortunate chance owe we your presence here before the meeting?"

  "To the same chance that brings me here with these two stout fellows, whom I rescued but today from Artegall's curst clutches." This version was a trifle startling, but Shea had the sense to lay low as Dolon described his thrilling rescue of Shea and Chalmers. He went on: "Most noble Archimage, a plan has occurred to me. As you know, people are good enough to say that I have a talent for plans amounting almost to genius.

  "Surely, noble Archimage, you are sib to the fact that you are but one and cannot be all places at once. As it stands, you head the Chapter well; but it is a professional guild. It prevents our cutting each other's throats by competition, but no more. What we need is an organization that will work together as the Faerie knights work together. It would be as though our mastership were composed of twenty-one Busyranes. Gloriana's government would have ill hap against it, eh?

  "By the favour of fortune, I fell in with these two, desirous of admission to the Chapter. With that skill at judging character for which I am well known, I saw at once that they were experts in exactly the form of organization we need, I present you, therefore, Reed de Chalmers, magician, and Harold de Shea, apprentice, as worthy members of our society. In magic, their art is the conjuration of singular and unheard of beasts. The Blatant One himself has fled before their spells."

  "Enchanted magical sirs," said Busyrane, with a polite bow. "Your application shall receive the most earnest attention. We presume, good Dolon, you have heard the sad news?"

  "That I have I not."

  "Poor Malvigen is slain — spitted with an arrow by that she-devil Belphebe."

  "The curst vile tripping wench!" Dolon turned to Shea and Chalmers. "Magical sirs I ask you, is this not a hard thing? Here's a man who spent a lifetime in the study and practice of magic; Malvigen. Made himself a great specialist in erotic dreams, excelling even the great Dolon in that one art. Now he's snuffed out in a second, like a wild boar, and for why? Because his attainments violate what those at the court choose to call morality."

  * * *

  Shea woke from a dream of being shrunk to a statue of one inch and swallowed by a snake. His clothes lay over a chair. They had evidently been given a magical laundering and mending, since they looked as good as new, in contrast to their worn and dirty state of the previous evening.

  Chalmers came in. His clothes also were clean, and he looked younger than Shea remembered having seen him. He burst out: "I've found Florimel!"

  "Shh! For Pete's sake not so loud. Tell me about it."

  "She was walking on the battlements. Really, this place is quite large when seen by daylight. Busyrane was most affable. It appears he intends to use her for the object — perfectly legitimate from his point of view — of causing dissension —"

  "Okay, Doc. Okay! I get it. You're all excited. What did you really find out? Who is this Florimel, anyhow?"

  "She was . . . uh . . . manufactured out of snow by a person called the Witch of Riphoea, as a duplicate or double of the genuine Florimel, who seems to have disappeared. Busyrane tells me it is at least theoretically possible to find a magical spell that will endow her with a genuine human body. He was most kind, most kind. I am afraid we may have misjudged —"

  "Yeah. He promised he'd help you fix her up, I suppose."

  Chalmers was suddenly dignified. "As a matter of fact, he did. But I cannot see how this affects —"

  Shea jumped up. "Oh, my God! Next thing you'll be selling out to the magicians and letting Gloriana's crowd go chase themselves — as long as you can make this snow girl."

  "That's not fair, Harold! After all, you were the one who insisted that we go ahead with our campaign, when I was willing to —"

  "Yeah? Who had the bright idea of getting pally with the magicians in the first place? Who got up this marvellous plan —"

  "Young man, let me tell you that you're grossly unreasonable as well as grossly reckless. You've placed us in one predicament after another by getting into fights for no good reason. You force my hand by making me use spells before I've tried them out. Now, when I wish to embark on a really important scientific experiment —"

  "I suppose it never occurred to you that Busyrane might be trying to suck you in to work for him by means of this girl. He controls her, and —"

  "Shh! You needn't shout!"

  "I'm not shouting!" roared Shea.

  A knock on the door made them both go silent. "Uh . . . ahem . . . come in!" said Chalmers.

  Busyrane stood on the threshold, rubbing his hands.

  "Good morrow, magical sirs. We heard your conversation and bethought us there might be something our humble household might supply or our feeble powers obtain for your use."

  Chalmers made a good recovery. "We were wondering — You know, the job of providing organization requires a special . . . uh . . . methodology. The science of combinational magic . . . uh . . . uh —"

  Shea took over. "What we mean is, could we have the loan of some laboratory facilities?"

  "Oh, certes, that lies within our gift. We have a disused chamber that would admirably serve. A few prisoners, even, on which you may experiment. We shall be happy, also, to furnish you with a cockatrice. If your honours will have the goodness to follow our poor person —"

  * * *

  "When the head enchanter had left them, Shea and Chalmers drew deep breaths. They had watched him for the least sign of suspicion, but he had displayed none — so far.

  Chalmers said: "Let me offer my apologies for. . . uh . . . my hastiness."

  "That's all right, Doc. I shouldn't have flown off the handle. And I'm sorry for running you ragged by being reckless."

  They shook hands like a pair of shame-faced small boys. "What's the programme now?" asked Shea.

  "Well . . . ahem . . . I'd like to restore Florimel — that is, to give her a human body. Also, she might not find a person of my years peculiarly congenial. I observe Busyrane is able to assume almost any age he wishes."

  "Ha —" Shea had started to laugh, but stopped, as Chalmers gave him a hurt look. "After all, Harold, what's so heinous about wishing to be young?"

  "It isn't that, Doc. I just remembered
something you said — about amorous adventure having few attractions for a person of your age."

  Chalmers smiled in mild triumph. "You forget that if I succeed in the rejuvenating process, I shall no longer be a person of my age!"

  EIGHT

  "Good gracious," said Chalmers. "That's the second time you've wandered off the incantation! Whatever is on your mind, Harold?" Shea stared absently at the big steel cage filling half the laboratory. Into it, with the aid of a pot containing a small fire, they were trying to conjure a dragon — one dragon. "Nothing much," he replied, "except I'm wondering about This flock of bogeymen that's due to show up for the meeting tomorrow."

  It was only half the truth. Shea had not given up his idea of a grand assault on the place and the capture of all the enchanters at once. The previous evening, without telling Chalmers, he had been out to look over the ground.