I squinted at him--and his weapon.
I don't know very much about the history of European armaments, probably only as much as your average European history professor. As a wild guess, though, I would have to say that this was definitely still England. And I was pretty sure--based on the shape and detail of his knife alone--that it was somewhere around AD 600.
The one with the accompanying swarm of flies smiled at me. I had time to count his teeth--all three of them-- before his mouth snapped shut again and he pressed the point of the knife right into my throat.
"Oh, yer alive, are ya? Well, there's a toll for sleepin' in this field. Hand over yer money or this is going to be a real pain in your neck!"
I decided it was going to be a real pain in his neck, instead. No matter what year it is, teaching a bully a lesson never goes out of style.
Chapter 51
SEEING MY PARENTS die for the second time hadn't left me in a charitable mood. "Talk about wrong place, wrong time," I muttered, staring into Flyboy's bleary eyes.
"You can say that again, stranger," he growled. I savored his smug, sadistic expression as I curled my mouth into a frown and raised my voice half an octave. It's a little something magicians call misdirection.
"Please don't hurt me, kind sirs!" I pleaded.
I tried to look vulnerable and pathetic as I rummaged in my pocket. It took only a moment's concentration to whip up an authentic-looking medieval pouch, made of tanned leather, a little bigger than an orange.
He snatched at it like a frog after a mosquito, then weighed it appreciatively in his hand.
"Heavy!" he exclaimed with delight. "I think we may have hit the mother lode, Hubert."
"About time," Hubert spat--literally. And he was actually the more tidy and the cleaner of the filthy pair. "Now hurry up and kill him."
I heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well, kill me if you must. But count my gold before you do, just so I'll know I died a rich man."
Flyboy squinted at me suspiciously, but he untied the strings on the pouch, pulling the knife off my throat by an inch.
"Better be something good in here," he said.
"Trust me, there is. Something great, actually."
At that moment I unleashed all my concentration onto the space inside the pouch. The expression on Flyboy's face transformed from mean to surprised to terrified so fast that I nearly laughed. This was going to be quite a show.
I used his moment of distraction to grab his knife. "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself with this," I told him.
A wide gray elephant's trunk had popped out of the bag and was grabbing his throat, so he didn't care much about what I was doing. The trunk shook its captive, and the pouch flew out of the man's grasp.
Then the bag burst apart and a gorgeous gray elephant now stood before us.
Not many people know that elephants are aliens, brought long ago from my home planet as a gift to Earth. Of course, these medieval bozos probably didn't even kno w t hat elephants existed. And it was a shame, because this one was a real beauty.
Flyboy screamed as the elephant lifted him up like a marionette and tossed him a good twenty feet across the meadow.
Hubert, the more fastidious thug, had both arms shielding his face like he'd just witnessed the beginning of the apocalypse. "Swounds! What in the name of all that's holy is that ruddy thing?"
Flyboy groaned, and clambered to his feet, growling. "'S a dragon, y' idiot! We robbed a bloody witch!"
Then he turned and ran off with his partner close behind. If they'd had tails, they would definitely have been between their skinny, grimy legs.
The elephant turned her enormous head, her ears flapping a little in the breeze, and winked a twinkling eye at me. Then she snaked her trunk into the air, trumpeted joyfully, and took off in a thundering run after the two would-be thieves and murderers.
Just in case you thought elephants were all sweetness, I can attest to the fact that this one had the time of her life scaring the bejeezus out of those dudes.
Chapter 52
MAYBE THE ELEPHANT TRICK had been overdoing it. I'd used so much power that I could barely even move my head now.
Not that I wanted to. A light breeze was playing in the grass beside my ears, and the air was sweet and clearer than anything I'd ever breathed in more modern times. I needed to start spending more time in the country--the seventh-century country, that is.
The only thing that made this scene less than perfect was a shadow across my face that was blocking the sun. A shadow that, now that I thought about it, hadn't been there a minute earlier.
And then a voice spoke. "Anyone who thinks an elephant is a dragon is lacking in wisdom, if you ask me. But t hose chaps were right about one thing. You are a wizard, aren't you?"
I did my best to crane my neck backward--and the boy standing behind me leaned forward so that we were staring at each other, only upside down.
I could tell that he was maybe a year or two younger than me, with sandy hair that was a little too long, and made him look like a reject from a 1990s grunge band.
Looking into his eyes, though, was like looking into a mirror. There was strength and intelligence, sure, but beyond that I could see anger, fear, doubt. This was a kid who knew what it was to lose something. I liked him already.
He laughed. "By the way, my dear friend, you're lying in a cow pie."
It was helpful of him to point that out, but I couldn't do much at the moment, so I just kept on lying there like an idiot.
"I know," was my best response. "I meant to do that."
He grinned. "Ah, I'm sure you did. And I'm the next king of England. Quite unlikely."
I squinted. "How do you know about elephants, anyway? You get a lot of them around here?"
"Well, I've never actually seen a great mastodon before. But my tutor's shown them to me. In books. He's a wizard like you."
"I'm not a wizard," I said. "I gave the thug my purse, and that elephant.. . Just jumped out." I knew it sounded lame, but explaining that I was really an alien from the twenty-first century would probably sound a lot worse.
"Right, then," he said agreeably, reaching down a hand to help me up. "My mistake. What's your name?"
"Daniel." I brushed the remnants of the cow pie off my backside. Luckily, it wasn't a fresh one.
"Most chaps call me Pendy. I say, if you have time, might I introduce you to my tutor? I daresay he would be most interested in meeting another wiz--er, friend to the great mastodon."
I shrugged and smiled. If you know me at all, you know I usually try to avoid contact with strangers. Nine times out of ten, they're out to kill me. That other ten percent are probably trying to sell me beachfront property in Florida or Ginsu knives.
But there was something interesting about this boy. Meeting him made me think of my aunts, uncles, and cousins back on Alpar Nok--who, like Pendy, were all so genuinely warm and friendly and instantly accepting. My alien-radar was definitely not going off.
I wondered if I should tell him the truth--that I was a superpowered agent sent from outer space into the twenty-first century; that he would have to wait eight hundred years before the printing press was even invented, and another six hundred before he could read the very fine pachyderm-themed book called Water for Elephants.
But I had a legacy to fulfill and an alien--no, a whole list of aliens--to catch. I needed to find out where that fiery lake I'd seen earlier was, what it had to do with Beta, and finally, just what it was going to take to get me home again to save my friends.
Chapter 53
THERE'S A BIG FAT DIFFERENCE between having a mission and having a clue about how to execute it. Without my List computer, I felt caught short, and my powers were sapped.
I decided my best bet was to connect with Pendy's tutor. With any luck, I could draw out some info from a guy with some smarts. Scholars might be few and far between in the seventh century... who knew?
I was definitely unsteady after the thousand-year-plus travel
through time. As I followed Pendy across the meadow, I was stumbling like a toddler who really needed to go to the bathroom. Pendy helped me over a stile that crossed a stone wall, then through another field toward a river on the other side.
There was an island in the river, and a wooden building that stood on it with a giant wheel creaking and dipping in the water alongside a mill. We splashed through the shallows and went up to a little porch.
A white horse was tied to the railing outside, and Pendy grimaced.
"Oh, bother. Kay is here."
"Kay? Who's she?" I asked.
"He's my brother. Well, foster brother. Well, idiot"
I grinned. Emma usually described Willy the same way.
The door was ajar, and as he pushed it open the rest of the way I heard a crashing and a cascade of centuries-old swear words ("zounds," "gadzooks," that sort of thing) coming from inside.
The mill was just one big room, with a rickety loft on one side, and a lot of cogs and gears on the other, which connected the waterwheel outside with a grindstone that was circling slowly around and around at about waist height. Beyond that, the whole room was filled with junk.
There were bowls and jars--many of them broken-- and rusting metal cart wheels, animal figurines, half-eaten loaves of bread, animal bones, and on top of everything were heaps of paper covered with notes and pictures. There was even scribbled-on paper stuffed into the crevices of the mill machinery. So this was no ordinary workshop. Paper couldn't have been that easy to come by back in these times.
I picked up one of the pieces. It said, "Origin of Prometheus."
It struck an eerie chord with me. I knew the name, from the Greek myth about the origin of fire. Fire --it seemed to be following me everywhere.
Still screaming obscenities at one side of the room was an eighteen-or nineteen-year-old who must have been Kay. His sleeve was caught in one of the gears and he was on his tiptoes, being dragged in a slow, inevitable circle. He kept thrashing his legs, trying to get loose, knocking over pots and shields as he went around.
In his free hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper that he stuffed in his pocket as soon as he saw us.
"Well, don't just stand there, nincompoops! Get me down from here!" he yelled. "Immediately, if not sooner! Right now!"
Pendy ran over and lifted his foster brother up by the knees until he could work himself free.
"I'm going to burn this bloody place to the ground. It's a death trap!" yelled Kay the second he was disentangled.
I expected Pendy to offer some sort of comeback. But all at once he'd become shy and servile. "Oh, you mustn't be angry, sir. You know he doesn't like you being in here when he's not around," said Pendy. "Or when he is around," he added in a soft mutter that only I heard.
"Who is your dim-witted friend and why does he refuse to help me? Does he not value his life?" said Kay petulantly.
"Please, call me Daniel. And I do value my life, thanks for asking. I didn't know you needed help, that's all." I shrugged. "I just thought you were doing interpretive dance."
"I've no idea what you're talking about, but regardless, you speak with great disrespect. I'm a knight and a noble," he declared, fingering the sword that hung by his side in a ruby-studded scabbard. "I'm not a man you want to cross. If I cut you down right here and now, no one would bat an eyelash."
I grinned. He was less scary than he thought he was. "Looked like you were the one who needed cutting down, sir."
Pendy was looking distraught. "Sir Kay, don't do this. Daniel didn't know who you were, and I'm sure he'd be happy to apologize..."
Pendy was wrong about that, but his pleas did no good anyway. With a growl, Kay drew his sword with ease. It looked like something he did a lot. And were those bloodstains on the blade? Suddenly I regretted my frivolous attempt at wit. I didn't have another elephant in me right now.
Kay pulled back, raising the sword high in the air.
Chapter 54
BUT INSTEAD OF COMING DOWN, the sword kept going up. Straight up. And Kay was still holding on to it by the hilt.
He reached up another hand, trying to pull the weapon back down, but it only shot up faster, finally embedding itself in the ceiling--with Kay kicking his legs at least twelve feet above the floor.
"Kay! You know I don't approve of violence. If you want to play, do it outside. And far, far away from my workshop/"
Standing next to us suddenly was a man in a red velvet bathrobe, grinning like it was his tenth or eleventh birthday party, and Kay was the pinata. And he was about as tall as a ten-year-old, too.
Only thing was, he also had a long, white beard, so bushy it would have put Santa Claus to shame. It reached all the way down past his waist. Which wasn't that far, actually.
Kay howled like an animal until Pendy ran underneath him, yelled "Let go," and broke his fall. Took an awful hit, too, poor Pendy.
Kay got up, dusted himself off, gave the three of us a long, dirty look, and stormed out, slamming the door so hard that it made a pile of junk in the corner collapse.
"That miserable oaf," the strange character said. "This isn't the first time I've caught him playing with my toys. It's fortunate I'm able to reverse gravity, isn't it?" The weirdo in the red robe giggled for about twenty seconds. It was awkward.
"He's just a jerk," I said. "So is anybody who needs to be called sir."
The bearded boy--or should I say man?--gave a start, as if I hadn't been standing there the whole time, then looked bemused.
"I'll be quite certain not to call you sir, strange fellow."
"Good." I extended my hand. "The name's Daniel."
"He's a wizard," said Pendy in a stage whisper, glancing at me apologetically. "Sorry."
At this, the short guy narrowed his eyes and stared at me. Actually, he stared past me and ran his tongue around his lips very slowly, like he was concentrating deeply. "You are not a wizard. No, no, no, no. That isn't it, not at all."
The next moment he winked at me, and I heard his voice very clearly in my mind: You're an alien. What can I say? It takes one to know one.
I reached out a hand to steady myself against a column, and it was a good thing, because he then announced, out loud, this little piece of news: "My name's Merlin. I see you and Arthur have already met."
Chapter 55
MERLIN AND ARTHUR.
King Arthur?
Merlin the Sorcerer?
Pendy was actually Arthur Pendragon, the future leader of England, the legend. A myth , supposedly. It was all too much to absorb at once. But then, I suppose the legend might be equally shocked to be meeting an alien. All depends on your perspective, I guess.
"Arthur, would you mind running along to the castle?" the little man--I mean, Merlin--said to Pendy--I mean, Arthur. "Daniel looks like he could use a cider."
Arthur, who had no idea that his tutor and I were both reeling from our sudden mutual mindfreak, trotted casually out of the barn.
"Well, that should keep him busy," Merlin said as soon as Arthur left the room, and then he burst into a series of delighted chuckles. "You look surprised," he said in his squeaky voice.
I didn't know what to say. Merlin blinked, and a black-and-white-splotched beanbag chair appeared behind me. I collapsed into it.
"Do you like it? I invented it myself. Just a standard cowhide full of kidney beans! Quite brilliant, wouldn't you say? Now, where was I... oh, yes! So I gather you now understand that I'm from another planet, and, judging by your... interesting clothes, you are too."
He looked like he was going into another laughing fit, so I interrupted before he could start.
"I'm an Alien Hunter from Alpar Nok, here to hunt down outlaws on Earth."
It might not surprise you to hear that this is not the most common way for me to introduce myself to strangers. It felt... good. But weird.
He froze suddenly, his teeth barely showing between his lips. "That's impossible!" he spat. And I do mean spat. Tm assigned to Earth."
I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. Merlin was an Alien Hunter? Come to think of it, he did look a little bit like one of the cousins I'd met during my last family reunion, an annoying little guy called Syffaldingus.
"Unless..." Something seemed to strike him, and he stopped mumbling and buried both hands in his beard thoughtfully. "The future. Yes, that's right! That must be it." He whistled, impressed. Or at least, he tried to whistle. It jus t s ounded like he was trying to blow out a cake full of birthday candles. "So I gather someone finally figured out how to jump between temporal rifts. Then again, I suppose I knew you were coming. Only I might have expected someone a little more, I don't know... experienced... to be the first."
"Experienced? You seem younger than I am!"
"I've been living here a hundred and seven years. I just imagined myself this way. A little trick I thought of one day while bathing. I call it mentis vitae --a mental fountain of youth. Clever, don't you think?"
I raised an eyebrow and pointed at his beard.
He shrugged. "Well, I kind of forgot what I was doing halfway through. I get bored easily. Mind wanders to other tasks, games of chance, foods I adore."
I shook my head. It was fortunate he'd never tried time travel. His short, skinny legs might have ended up two hundred years away from the rest of his body.
"You knew I was coming?" I said skeptically.
"Yes, yes, yes. Hold on, where is it? I know I left it around here somewhere." He got down on his hands and knees and started rummaging through one of the larger piles crammed into a corner.
All I can say is, Merlin would have been great at Jenga. He darted around like a mongoose, pulling out a sheaf of papers here and there, crude-shaped jars of ink and feather pens, a wooden recorderlike instrument, and the odd animal skin, tossing them a few feet and leaving all kinds of holes in the pile so that it seemed it would come crashing down at any moment.