The Dragon and the Gnarly King

  "—Damn fine little fellow, actually!" Brian was saying cheerfully in Jim's ear. "Did you notice how he upended the bigger one? Well done indeed! Wish I could tell him so."

  "You already have—" Jim was beginning incautiously, when a very King-like roar from the Throne interrupted him.

  "Ye!" Hill was saying. "Luck! Come here to me!"

  Jim had spent some time earlier in an effort to have an excuse ready, in case he was asked why he had mixed himself up in the contest between Hill and the former King. But he had been interrupted and never gotten back to it. Now, Hill was not leaving him much time to think of anything. He went, somewhat slowly, toward the dais, thinking rapidly, and stopped at its edge.

  "Up here!" ordered Hill.

  Jim stepped up on the dais and approached the new King. He stopped finally when he was right up against the resplendent Throne itself. His face and Hill's were only about a foot and a half apart.

  "What did ye mean by interfering?" Hill demanded, in so low a voice that Jim could hardly hear him. Jim guessed that this was the Gnarly equivalent of a whisper that the rest would not hear. He lowered his own voice.

  "Me?" he said.

  "Yes! Ye!" muttered Hill. "Ye came and fought my fight. Ye threw my uncle down and scattered 'im—well, nigh-on scattered 'im. Don't think I didn't know 'twas thy doing!"

  "But what difference does it make—" Jim was beginning, when Hill interrupted in a choking low-voiced outburst that was nevertheless crackling with fury.

  "I wanted to do it myself!"

  You couldn't, thought Jim, stopping himself just in time from saying it out loud.

  "But you did!" he said instead. "Congratulations, your Highness! A famous victory!"

  Hill stared. A look of perplexity came over his face, which for a moment almost faded back to the expressionless open-mouthed gape Jim had become so familiar with.

  "I did not!" growled Hill. " 'Twas ye! I felt ye, holding me still and doing all thyself!"

  "No, no," said Jim patiently. "Forgive me if I seem impolite, Highness, but I think you have things mixed up a little. You said yourself I was your Luck. That Luck just went to work for you. I had nothing to do with it. Did it really feel as if something was holding you prisoner?"

  Hill hesitated. Jim sympathized with him. If Hill continued to insist that Jim had taken charge of him, then he would be denying himself the credit for the victory. And it was a victory that had earned him the Robe and Throne.

  At this point a human might have grumbled something noncommittal, or stammered, trying to find some way to agree with Jim. Being a Gnarly, however, Hill's face simply went open-mouthed blank, and stayed so while he thought out the situation. Jim waited patiently.

  Gradually, Hill got a more Gnarly King-like expression on his face; but it was not an angry expression anymore. It was a look of rather innocent happiness.

  "Well, so, thee was my Luck after all, them" said Hill. "I was worried for naught!"

  He almost beamed on Jim.

  "Thee be indeed a good Luck!" he said. "Is there anything thee wants, now I be King? I can give thee whatever wish with my magick."

  Jim looked down at Hill's robe.

  "Well," he said, "I'd rather like to have a couple of these—" He reached out to finger the little faceted, flashing silvery jewel-like objects that covered the Robe.

  "Thee would?" Hill's face had fallen a little. "Thee does not ask for somat small. It were centuries to gather th' Great Silver thee sees, and magick it to cover all this Robe."

  "Is it that hard to find?" said Jim.

  "Ay," said Hill. "Being a Stoopid, thee wouldn't know. But some silver lies close wi' tin in the Earth, and a rare part of that silver is Great Silver. Tis wedded to the tin. All our Gnarlies search for it in their mining, to find and bring it back. Once magicked by the King—by me—Great Silver holds that magick and turns into what you see here. But it has to be that rare fine special Silver, first, and 'tis hard to find. That is why my people work so close to the Stoopids that mine the tin, up where the World stops and the Air begins."

  "Is that so?" said Jim. "Well, I'm very glad you told me that. It explains why your uncle's left you a Kingdom in very serious trouble."

  "Trouble?" said Hill. His voice wobbled. "TROUBLE? What kind of trouble?"

  "He's been negotiating with a Lady of the human Court."

  "Go-shaying?" echoed Hill, staring. "A Gnarly 'go-shaying wi'a Stoopid Lady? 'Ee never had no shame! But why'd 'ee do such a thing as that?"

  Jim left Hill with his own interpretation.

  "Why, to get control of all the lands where human miners mine…"

  "But that's good. Maybe worth it, then," said Hill. "But a Stoopid female!"

  "I suppose you could call her that," said Jim. "Only, she and the others like me really aren't stupid, you know."

  "But for thousands of years, none o'ye never could see the Great Silver married in the tin ye mined," said Hill. "Stoopid miners mines it, but never knows it's no'but tin. If such's na stoopid, what is?"

  "Well, the point is," said Jim. "to do this, your uncle made a number of bad mistakes. For one thing, he stole my ward."

  "I can cure thee of warts," said Hill.

  "Ward," said Jim, pointing at young Robert, who was still peacefully sleeping.

  "That's what 'ee is?" said Hill seriously. "Well, in that case, thee can just have him back for being so good a Luck."

  "But that's just the beginning of what your uncle tangled himself in," said Jim. "He also took the Mage Carolinus, and put him in a cage, there—" Jim turned and pointed. "Carolinus is one of the three most important magicians in the world, and hundreds—maybe thousands of the World's magicians are now against you."

  "I've no fear of up-surface Magickians, down 'ere!"

  "Of course not, Highness. But what if they got so angry they magically take all the Great Silver out of the tin in the ground? A light metal like tin must be up near the surface."

  " 'Oo's to tell 'im?" said Hill, sounding every inch a King, and staring accusingly at Jim. "Thee?"

  "Oh, no," said Jim. "That's not necessary. They'll probably just look into a scrying glass or dish of water, and command it show them where your magic is hid."

  Hill stared at him.

  " 'Crying glass?"

  Jim nodded.

  "And this 'ere… it'd tell them?"

  "It would have to," said Jim solemnly.

  Hill stared at him for another long moment.

  "What a dirty, Stoopid trick!" he burst out. " 'Ees'd do that, would 'ees?"

  "Unless they get my ward and Carolinus back; and this Lady that was negotiating with your uncle is stopped."

  "Thee, 'eeself, Luck, can take the Magickian, too, back wi' 'eesl" said Hill. "But will the Stoopid Lady be stopped if my uncle beed kept here?"

  "No," said Jim.

  Tears began to brim in Hill's eyes.

  "But maybe I can stop her. I'm a magician, too, you know."

  "Ee can stop that Lady?"

  "Maybe I can stop her—if I can call on you for help when I need it."

  "Ay, dear Luck! Call anytime, from anywhere. I will that! I can help thee—now!"

  "Fine," said Jim. "Then I'll take all my people and horses and you send us, now, back to the courtyard. Remember my Castle, where we left from with Rrrnlf?"

  "Ay," said Hill. "I do that. T'was back up-Surface."

  "Well, send us there. I'll be taking everyone else I mentioned, including the horses and the hobgoblin."

  "Hobgoblin?" said Hill. "Oh, thee means the little creatur'. Is that what 'ee calls isself?"

  "That's right," said Jim.

  He turned. Robert still seemed to be asleep, so he went first to the cage, where Carolinus was hanging on the bars. Carolinus smiled a little as he got close.

  "Does 'ee need me to help wi' the cage?" called Hill.

  "No, no—!" said Jim, smug still inside his ward and pointing at the bars. Hill was about to be astonished. "Disappear!" r />
  Nothing happened. Jim had forgotten again. He was still out of magic. He turned back uncomfortably to look at Hill, still on the Throne.

  "Er, Highness…" he said.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "What is it, Luck?" asked Hill.

  "Can you make this cage vanish?" Jim asked.

  "I can," said Hill. "Now I've Robe and Throne."

  Hill made no move, but Jim, out of the corner of an eye, saw the bars disappear. He turned back just in time to catch Carolinus as the old man fell forward, his eyes closed. Jim had handled unconscious or dead bodies before—they had usually been unbelievably heavy. But Carolinus seemed as light as a package of old, dry bones. Jim carried the red-robed figure toward the horses. Dafydd met him halfway and took his burden from him.

  Jim went to the stone on which Robert rested, the child did not wake as Jim took him in his arms. He returned to Hill.

  "One more thing, then," he said to the new Gnarly King. "How do I call you when I want you?"

  "Just thee call. Call me 'Hill,' though. 'Tis the hill in the earth over us now that gives my family name. 'Ee must call me 'Highness' any other time, though."

  "I will," said Jim. "Now you can send us—"

  But he had no chance to finish speaking. They were already back at Malencontri.

  The sun was blinding in the courtyard. A few servants passing through stopped, stared at the group, and stood frozen for a second before—first one or two, then in a mass—breaking out with a mixed chorus of the usual, formal welcoming scream/shout of alarm they had determined was the proper way to greet their Lord when he showed up in a magickal way.

  "To me!" shouted Jim, blinking away sundazzle.

  The visible servants and men-at-arms ran toward him; and others, also at a run, appeared from various outbuildings and the doors of the Great Hall. Among them was the blacksmith, still holding his hammer and with his face showing a strange mixture of annoyance at being interrupted at his work, and astonishment—not only at their appearance, but at the remarkable sight of his Lord, sworded and in armor, holding a child, and Dafydd carrying what looked like a sleeping Carolinus in his arms.

  "Ho!" shouted Jim. "Bring my Lady at once! Prepare a room for the Mage! Fetch me John Steward! Four of you, fetch a litter to carry the Mage up to his room in the tower! Stable hands, here! Take the horses! Move, all of you!"

  Startled, not a little alarmed—on general principles—at this unexpected happening, but also enraptured by the excitement of it all, the servants ran to obey his orders. Within moments, the horses had disappeared into the stables and a litter had been located. Carolinus was put on it, and they were all proceeding toward the front door of the Great Hall when John Steward came out—at as good a compromise between a run and a stately walk as he evidently felt his position would allow him.

  Shoutings and the sound of servants swearing at each other for being slow echoed all around the courtyard.

  "M'Lord!" panted John Steward, coming to a stop before Jim, and then trying to walk backward with dignity as they all proceeded to the door. "M'Lord, what is your will of me? What may I do?"

  "Take charge of everything!" snapped Jim. "Where is my Lady?"

  But at that moment, Angie appeared through the front door of the Hall with Robert's nurse behind her, the two of them running the last few steps to meet Jim and bringing all to a full stop. Angie hugged Jim, kissed him, kissed a now awake and gurgling Robert, snatched Robert out of Jim's arms and kissed him several more times. Robert laughed happily at this new game and punched Angie in the nose.

  "Slow down," Jim said, "you'll wear him down to a nub."

  Hastily, still holding Robert, Angie kissed Jim once more for possibly ignoring him.

  "Shall I take him now, m'Lady?" asked the nurse, timidly.

  "NO!" said Angie, turning sharply from her, and they finally got the parade moving. John Steward was already taking charge.

  Jim gave her a very brief account of their activities as they walked down the length of the Great Hall. "I'll tell you the full story later."

  "Fine. When you can. Eat something now. You litter-men, follow me. Jim—I'll be back as soon as I can. By the way, the priest you sent for came."

  She disappeared in the direction of the tower stairs, while Jim remembered that he had indeed sent for a priest, to exorcise the boomp noises. Well, he would not be needed now.

  Dafydd and Brian were seating themselves at the High Table. It already had pitchers of wine and water and an assortment of foods on it; and servants were arriving with more food every moment.

  "Aumph!" said Brian, clearly trying to express his pleasure with his mouth full. He managed to swallow and speak clearly. "James, I believe I could eat half of what's on this table by myself. Then I could sleep for a week."

  "I wish you hadn't said that," said Jim, who just happened to have his own mouth empty enough to answer at the moment. He turned to John Steward, who had just come back into the Great Hall.

  "How long have I been gone?" he asked.

  "Gone, m'Lord?" John Steward looked blank for a moment, then recovered himself. "Oh—this is the sixth day since you left in the hands of the giant," he said.

  Jim nodded, his mouth already full once more. He was growing somewhat used to the fact that time did not seem to act normally when he was dealing with magic and Naturals, he reflected; but perhaps that explained a little of why they were all so hungry.

  He had not realized how hungry he was until he started eating. And he had been reminded, too, that he yearned for sleep. He could not remember having any since—since—it was too much trouble to figure how long it had been. Of course, Jim reminded himself, he had slept after being stabbed by Edgar—if you could call that sleeping.

  Dafydd said nothing. He kept eating.

  Angie came back downstairs to find all of them slumbering at the table. Not a great deal of the food had been eaten before sleep overcame them. Only Hob, who had been on Jim's shoulder throughout, was bright-eyed, still perched there.

  "I thought I ought to stay with him, m'Lady," he said to Angie, somewhat unsurely. "Was that the right thing to do?"

  "Of course it was, Hob," she said. She turned her head and lifted her voice "Servants here!"

  Half a dozen servants, including May Heather and five men-at-arms, appeared almost immediately.

  "Carry your Lord to the Solar," ordered Angie. "Take Sir Brian to his usual room—I don't care if it is dusty; clean it while he's sleeping, but be quiet while you do it—though he probably won't wake anyway. Find and clean another room for Master Hywel. May Heather, run ahead to Ellen Cinders to be sure that there are clean sheets and bedclothes on the beds."

  Everybody obeyed.

  Angie sat down at the table, poured herself half a cup of wine, looked at it with distaste, and pushed it away. She sighed heavily.

  "Shall I tell you all about it, m'Lady?" Hob asked.

  "Yes," said Angie. "You do that. Go ahead. I'll listen."

  "Well," began Hob. "We got picked up by the giant and carried …"

  "Where am I?" said Jim, waking up with the sun in his eyes.

  "You're in your own bed in the Solar," answered Angie sleepily, from beside him. "It's four o'clock in the morning or something like that, and the sun's just up. Go back to sleep."

  "Oh," said Jim. He closed his eyes, felt Angie nestling closer to him, and went back to sleep.

  "What time is it?" he said, waking up again, and sitting up in bed.

  Angie's face was all but buried in the pillow. She buried it a little deeper.

  "Five A.M., maybe six," she said indistinctly. "Too early. Go back to sleep."

  "I can't," said Jim. "There's too much to do."

  But he was talking to an Angie who had returned to slumber.

  Six in the morning, maybe, Jim thought. It had only been noon or something like that when they had arrived back here. A mere eighteen hours of sleep—or less. They had gone into the Great Hall and started to eat… and
that was all he remembered.

  If they had eaten for an hour—and it had probably been less—that meant he had been sleeping for only seventeen hours, or so. Well, even that was enough to explain why he was so wide-awake now. His mind was thronging with things that needed to be done. Quietly, he crept out of the bed and looked around for his clothes.

  Since he was awake, he told himself, the chances were Brian and Dafydd were, too. In which case the most likely place to find them would be down in the Great Hall, eating what passed for breakfast. At the thought of lumps of cold meat and a choice of wine or small beer, his stomach rebelled. Angie usually had the Kitchen prepare something like eggs and bacon for them, but it was not the breakfast natives of this century were yet accustomed to. If he were to go down and eat with his friends, he would have to eat as they did. But maybe he could have something hot, first.

  Coffee was not available, here; but they had tea, thanks to Carolinus. Jim made himself a cup—strong—and carried it with him down to the Great Hall. He passed no one on the stairs, and even the Serving Room was empty as he came through it.

  Sure enough, Brian and Dafydd were at the table.

  Food and drink were set out there, as expected; and the two were eating with the healthy appetites they usually showed. They all greeted each other, and Jim chose a chair beside Brian—in front of whom, for some reason, all the larger serving dishes were gathered. It seemed a strange assortment of foods—cold vegetables with vinegar, rather stale slabs of bread, small cakes, and chunks of roasted meats that had not even been cut up—different from what was usually on the table for breakfast.

  "What is that you are drinking, James?" demanded Brian, peering into Jim's brass wine-cup.

  "A magician's drink," said Jim.

  "Sleeping on a pallet in all strange places," said Brian, "drinking all sorts of messes—forgive me, James, that I sometimes forget how hardly you Magickians must pay for your great powers; while even a simple country Knight like myself may avail himself freely of good wine and a bed."

  Jim, who had just been saying to himself, That's thinking on your feet, James, found himself taken unawares.