The Dragon Knight

  In such instances, Jim had learned, the trick was to avoid saying something that might sound as if he were at least unconsciously on the side of whoever or whatever Angie was angry with. Further, the best way for him to do that was to establish as quickly as possible just who the target of her anger was, and the situation involved. This was best done by judicious questioning, but even that was like walking through a mine field. Very often a question could turn out to be the wrong question.

  "Why hasn't it happened in this case, then?" asked Jim.

  "Because she hasn't told him, of course," snapped Angie. She seemed in no hurry to come to bed, and to have suddenly decided that her hair needed brushing. One of the few luxuries that the former Baron of Malencontri had possessed was a mirror. It was set up now in their solar, with a chair before it. Angie sat looking into it, brushing out her hair with short, angry strokes. "But I mean," said Jim, "why hasn't she told him?"

  "I'd think that would be obvious," answered Angie to the mirror.

  "Well, you know how unobservant I am," said Jim with a little laugh. "I didn't see any change in her, and of course it never occurred to me that she was. But you say she told you."

  "Who else could she tell?" said Angie. "She's got no close women friends; and besides, I'm an old, wise married woman."

  "Old?" said Jim in honest astonishment. He had never thought of himself as anything else but a very young man; and Angie was three years younger than he was. "You? Old?"

  "On this world, and to someone Danielle's age—yes, I'm old!" said Angie. "A middle-aged, wedded woman!"

  "I see," said Jim; although he did not really see at all. There was nothing for it but to ask a direct question.

  "Then," he asked, "why hasn't she told him?"

  "Because she thinks he won’t love her anymore!" snapped Angie.

  "Why not?"

  "Because she'll swell up with the baby and turn ugly; and he'll fall out of love with her. Just like that!"

  "Dafydd?" Jim was honestly bewildered. "Even the little time I’ve had with him, I can tell Dafydd's not the kind to change like that. How can she know that he'd suddenly fall out of love with her, just because she's carrying a baby?"

  "Oh, for pity's sake!" said Angie to the mirror. "Because she believes it was her looks, and her looks only, he fell in love with. If she loses those, she'll lose him."

  "But that's ridiculous!" said Jim.

  "Why?" retorted Angie. "You were there when it happened. We all came through the door of the inn, he took one look at her and said 'I'm going to marry you.' "

  "It wasn't quite that fast," protested Jim.

  "No," said Angie with sarcastic edge to her voice. "First he had the landlord bring a lantern so he could look her over closely."

  "That's not the way it was," said Jim. "If I remember rightly it wasn't until the next day that he gave any signs of being in love with her."

  "What's the difference?" said Angie. "She knows she's beautiful. She is beautiful and attractive to men, isn't she?"

  Angie swung around in the chair and looked at him directly.

  A prickly question.

  "Well, yes, I guess so," said Jim.

  "Well then," Angie swung back to the mirror, "knowing how she attracts men, and having him fall in love with her at first sight, what else was she to think except that it was her looks he'd fallen in love with?"

  "But why should she still think it now?" asked Jim. "After all, they've been married nearly a year. In that length of time she must have gotten to know him better than that."

  "Of course she has," said Angie, "but she can't help how she feels, can she?"

  Another prickly question. It was Jim's opinion that in many cases people could help how they felt, if they realized that what they were feeling was incorrect. But maybe he was wrong about that. In any case, something told him it would not be a wise point of argument to raise with Angie, right now.

  "You saw her face a little while ago downstairs, when he called her his golden bird," said Angie. "Didn't you see how that made her feel? It was written all over her!"

  Jim actually had not seen anything written all over Danielle, simply because he hadn't been paying any attention to her at the time. He had been concentrating his attention on Dafydd.

  "As a matter of fact, I didn't," he said. "At any rate, what could she expect you to do about it?"

  "Give her advice," said Angie. "She knows Dafydd wants to go off to this war, just to see if there's anyone there who thinks he's better than Dafydd with a bow. So she's torn between not wanting to let him go and not wanting to keep him around, where he'll see her get big with her pregnancy and fall out of love with her. She expected me to have an answer."

  "Have you?" asked Jim.

  "Well, have you?" said Angie.

  "No," said Jim. He was tempted to add that he was not a woman and these were waters where he was out of his depth; but thought better of it.

  "Nobody can answer that question but her!" said Angie. She put down the brush and blew out the candle by which she had been brushing her hair. The room was plunged into a dimness barely relieved by the last light of sunset beyond its windows. Jim felt, rather than saw, her climb into bed beside him. But she lay down and covered herself up far enough away so that she did not touch any part of him.

  She said no more on the subject. And Jim asked no more questions; although he would very much have liked to have known if Angie also believed that Dafydd was in love with Danielle only for her looks. Because he, Jim, did not believe that for a second.

  Chapter Nine

  The next three weeks passed swiftly. Dafydd, Danielle, and Giles o' the Wold with his men, departed. Brian became a regular resident of the castle, together with a number of his men-at-arms, busily engaged with Jim in training the sixty men that had been chosen from the men of the lands, and staff of the castle, to help fill out Jim's levy requirement of fifty lances.

  Of the sixty, only the twenty-two most promising would actually end up being classed as men-at-arms. For this, they had to show that they could ride and handle weapons with some promise of skill in the future, if not a great deal of skill now. The rest of the sixty would be horse handlers and personal servants for Jim, Brian, Brian's squire—a pleasant, open-faced, blond sixteen-year-old lad named John Chester—and the present and soon-to-be men-at-arms generally.

  The fifty "lances" that Jim was required to supply technically meant fifty fighting men, each one of them horsed and able to handle a full complement of weapons, consisting of heavy dagger, broadsword, shield, and—in the case of the men-at-arms—a light lance or "spear."

  Brian ended up adding twenty-six men to the total strength; these being made up by his own force of all but five of his castle men-at-arms, plus five others who were recruits from his household staff; and the rest consisting of experienced men-at-arms who had come from elsewhere to fight under his command.

  Properly speaking, Jim as well as Brian should have had a squire. But there was no hope on this short notice of getting one of the sons of a neighboring noble family to train as one, even if there had been time to train him. Brian's counsel was that Jim take one of his men-at-arms whom he got along particularly well with, and name him squire; since it was unlikely anyone they were likely to encounter would know the difference.

  England—as Jim remembered from his medieval studies back in his original world—unlike France and some other continental countries, did allow a common man to rise to knighthood; and the preparatory stage for knighthood was that of squire. So it was not unheard of for a man-at-arms to become a squire, although he would have to do something exceptionally remarkable to go on to become a knight.

  At most, as Brian pointed out, if it became common knowledge that Jim's squire was a former man-at-arms, nothing about the situation would be altered; except that Jim would be a little less respected than he might be, if some son from a house of gentle blood was holding that office for him.

  The first two weeks proceeded pret
ty much as expected. But the last week was enlivened by two visitors, each with a separate word of particular importance to Jim.

  The first of these was Secoh, the mere-dragon. He belonged to that unfortunate branch of the local dragons which had suffered from the Dark Powers which had chosen to locate themselves in the Loathly Tower. This was the same Tower by the seashore to which the renegade dragon Bryagh had stolen away Angie, when she and Jim had first ended up in this world.

  Secoh's tribe as a result had become small, weak, and timid, as dragons went; and Secoh had been no exception. He changed, however, when old Smrgol, a dragon who was the granduncle of Gorbash, the dragon whose body Jim had inadvertently taken over, shamed him into standing up for himself as a dragon should—mere, or not.

  Secoh had ended by helping old Smrgol, after Smrgol had been crippled by a stroke, to battle and kill the powerful rogue dragon, Bryagh, in the final battle at the Loathly Tower. Meanwhile Jim, in the dragon body of Gorbash, fought and slew an Ogre, Sir Brian killed a Worm, and Dafydd's arrows shot any of the Tower's harpies who flew down to attack them, Aragh kept off the sandmirks, and Carolinus held back the emanations of the Dark Powers.

  So Secoh had ended up being one of Jim's Companions and had helped him deliver Angie from the Dark Powers.

  Since then, Secoh had been a different dragon. He did not hesitate to challenge any other dragon, regardless of size. They, on their part, usually backed away from him. Physically, they were almost certain to win a fight with him; but winning would not be worth the certainty of being badly torn up in the process, by a mere-dragon who did not acknowledge the words "surrender" or "retreat."

  Secoh landed outside in the courtyard one afternoon; and without asking around, stumped into the main hall on his hind legs, looking for Jim. Undersized by usual dragon standards as he was, he had to duck his head to get through the great main door; and the people in the hall, quite naturally, ran for all the other exits.

  Disappointed at not finding Jim and having everybody else run from him, Secoh merely raised his voice. This, again for a dragon, was a rather light voice; but by human standards would have put the foghorn of a good-sized ship to shame.

  "Sir James!" roared Secoh. "Or, Lord James, I mean! Where are you? It's Secoh. I need to talk to you!"

  Confident of having more or less spread the word, Secoh stumped forward to the high table, where his nose told him that a pitcher left there was about half full of wine. He picked this up and poured it down his throat, smacking his lips. Wine, for a mere-dragon, was more than an unusual luxury. Jim had not so far appeared, so he sniffed at the empty pitcher regretfully, put it down on the table, and curled up behind it, with only his chin resting upon the board so he could keep an eye out for his host, and went into the pleasant half-doze that dragons are capable of doing at any time when there is nothing else in particular to do.

  It was about five minutes before Jim and Sir Brian, hastily summoned from the exercise ground outside where the new recruits were being trained, came at a run into the hall, backed up by about a dozen of their veteran men-at-arms.

  Secoh sat up suddenly behind the high table.

  "Lord," he boomed—then remembered that Jim in his human body did not have a dragon's capacity for listening to another dragon's voice. He made an effort to lower his tones to only a bass rumble. "A matter of high importance brings me to you, m'Lord."

  "It's Secoh," said Jim. He turned to the men-at-arms behind him. "The rest of you can get back to the exercise yard."

  He watched them go; then he and Sir Brian came up to the high table.

  "It is you, Secoh, isn't it?" said Jim, as the two of them came around the end of the high table and halted before the dragon. He was aware out of the corner of his eye of Sir Brian looking at him a little admiringly. The knight's hand was firmly on his sword hilt.

  Jim felt a little guilty. Sir Brian either had not realized, or did not recollect, that Jim should be able to change himself into a dragon a good deal larger than Secoh, on a moment's notice. Actually, thought Jim to himself a little ashamedly, even a couple of weeks ago, he would not have been that sure of his ability to make the change so quickly. But in between he had, as Carolinus had suggested, been practicing all sorts of small magics; and in particular, since it was something he was already familiar with, he had turned himself into a dragon and back to human again several dozen times over—when nobody else was looking, of course.

  "The same, m'Lord," whispered Secoh. "There's something you need to know right away, James."

  "Lord James, Dragon!" corrected Brian automatically.

  "That's all right, Brian," said Jim. "Anyone who was with us at the Loathly Tower can speak to me as an equal. You know how I feel about this."

  "Well, well, have it your own way," said the knight. "Seems a damn lack of manners when a dragon does it, though."

  "I apologize, Lord James," whispered Secoh.

  "No apology needed, Secoh," said Jim. "You want to talk? Brian, pull up a chair."

  Jim grabbed a chair from the table, turned it to face Secoh, and sat down himself. Brian followed suit and Secoh sat back on his haunches.

  "Is there anything I can offer you, Secoh?" said Jim. "Half a cow? A small keg of wine, perhaps?"

  "If you don't mind"—Secoh's eyes almost visibly lit up like lamps—"a drop of the wine."

  Jim shouted for his castle servants. They came, after a little delay, but slowly, and approached gingerly, stopping a good dozen feet from Secoh.

  "Know you," said Jim sternly to the closest servant, "this good dragon is Secoh, who was one of my Companions at the Loathly Tower. He is classed among the most favored of my guests. Give him anything he wishes. Right now a small keg of burgundy will do."

  "A keg, m'Lord?" stammered the servant.

  "That's what I said," said Jim. "Just take the top off and bring it in."

  The servant went off and a little after the wine was delivered. Secoh sipped daintily at the open keg, no more than a quart or so, a sip. Clearly, he meant to make the wine last, under the impression that there would be no more forthcoming. He put the keg down.

  "M'Lord," he began.

  "James," Jim corrected him.

  Secoh bobbed his head.

  "Sir James," he began again, "you're going to France, I understand, to fight in a war there. There's something that you should understand and do something about right away."

  "What's that?" asked Jim, "as far as I know—"

  He broke off.

  "Angela!" he said. "Look who's come to see us. Secoh!"

  Angie had just swept in wearing her third best, royal blue dress. Clearly the word had reached her as well. She came right up to Secoh, who got up off his haunches, with his tail carefully tucked close to his back so that it would not knock anything over, and turned to face her.

  "My Lady." He attempted a bow, which with his dragon's body was not all that successful. It looked more like a dart of his fearsome head toward her as if he was going to bite her in half. Angie, however, was not flustered, having encountered this bit of manners from Secoh before. She curtsied in return, knowing that that would please Secoh enormously.

  "You are welcome to our hall, Secoh," she said demurely.

  "Secoh has come to tell me something important," said Jim, getting a chair for her and bringing it around so that she sat with Brian and himself, facing the dragon. They sat. Secoh, himself, sat down again.

  "I never thought, at first, that James might not know about this," said Secoh in a cautiously low voice, "then it struck me that maybe he didn't. So I came right away."

  He turned directly to Jim.

  "James," he began again, "I hear you're headed toward this humans' war in France?"

  "That's right, Secoh," answered Jim. "In fact we're getting ready for it right now, Sir Brian and I, as you might've noticed when you were flying in."

  "So that's what all the running around was about outside the walls," said Secoh. "I should have realized. But, my
real question is, James, while you're in France, do you intend to be a dragon for any length of time? We dragons understand that with the magic at your disposal you can become one of us at any time."

  "I hadn't planned on it," answered Jim slowly, "but I suppose the need might arise. Why do you ask?"

  "Well, there's some rules and regulations to all this," said Secoh. "I know most people think we dragons don't have much order and discipline; but there are a few things that we're pretty strict about. Now to begin with, if you plan to be a dragon in France, even for a short while—at least long enough for the local dragons to discover you're there as a dragon—certain matters come up."

  "What sort of matters?" challenged Sir Brian.

  "Well—matters—Sir Brian," said Secoh. He looked almost apologetically at Jim. "For one thing, James, you can't just be a lone dragon, a dragon with no affiliations. There's no such thing; unless you're a rogue dragon, like Bryagh turned out to be. So, you've got to belong to one of our communities."

  "I hadn't realized I had to do that," answered Jim.

  "Oh, but you do," said Secoh earnestly, "and there's no choice about it. Since you were in the body of one of our local dragons, and since you live in the territory of the Cliffside Dragons, here, you're a member of that community whenever you turn into a dragon—like it or not."

  "I see," said Jim.

  "Exactly," said Secoh. "Naturally, I—we'd love to have you be one of us mere-dragons. But aside from the fact that you're really—er, too large—the rules won't allow it. A Cliffside Dragon you were to begin with. A Cliffside Dragon you will always be, no matter how much of a magician or sorcerer you become, or where you go. That's the way we dragon people have been for forty thousand years. You can check with your Accounting Office, if you like."

  "No need," said Jim. "I'll be glad to take your word for it. I wouldn't doubt you in any case, Secoh."

  "Well, thank you," said Secoh. "Now your belonging to the Cliffside Dragons is going to be something of great importance when you're in France, because it gives you an identity, a homeland. You aren't just, as I say, any lone dragon—an outlaw dragon—but a respectable member of a dragon community. So the only way you can be in France safely as a dragon, is to be there with the consent of your community. In short, you need a passport."