Tom rolled over. A scowling soldier stood over him in the gray light.
"Huh? What?"
"He's just a tough old sergeant," murmured Retruance without opening his eyes. "Curse him roundly and maybe he'll go away."
16.Don Callander "You this Tom Librarian?" repeated the sergeant, paying no attention to the Dragon.
"Yes, I'm Tom a"
"Chief is asking for you over to the pavilion," grunted the noncom. He thought seriously of prodding the sleepy civilian again but, as the Dragon was now watching him through one slitted eye, he left, instead.
"Better see what our old Historian wants," sighed Refinance. "You won't need me. I'll wait here. Keep the spot warm, you know."
Tom paused at a community washstand to splash cold water on his face, trying to put his rumpled clothes into some order as he hastened to the Historian's tent.
He heard the voice of Murdan long before he reached the tent. He was admitted by heavily armed cavalrymen with long, curved swords drawn. The Master was in a foul mood, Tom realized, and he sought to slip into the back row, unnoticed.
Murdan spotted him at once.
"Here, Librarian! Have you stopped up Gugglerun yet?" The officers around Murdan's chair parted quickly to allow Tom to move to the front, helped by a gentle shove disguised as an encouraging pat.
"Uh, no, sir," Tom stammered. "I find that there is little or no information on Gugglerun and the castle waterworks available here."
Murdan scowled angrily, grating out, "I depend on you, young Tom. My men are waiting for you to produce results.
Many will die if you don't."
"Give me a break," Tom cried in exasperation. "I've been here only an evening and a night!"
His response rather startled the Historian, who was more used to obedience than objections.
Before he could comment, Tom plunged on. "I'll need at least a day or two to solve your problem, sir. I have decided how I'll proceed but I haven't enough daylight to act."
"I like a man who speaks his mind, even if he hasn't yet proved he has one," Murdan told the assembled officers. "If he succeeds, all to the good. But if he fails a"
"Mere men fail at times," Tom interrupted. "Threats of punishment won't make the solution easier."
DRAGON COMPANION 17.
"Back off, then," the Historian said quickly. "What will you do?"
"I'm not prepared to say just yet. May I have today to work it out?"
Murdan turned to a senior officer standing to the left of his chair.
"Captain Graham, what do you expect the Mercenary Knights to do today, after the failed sortie of yesterday?"
"If the enemy runs true to form, sir, he'll rest today. Perhaps he'll sally again late this evening or tonight. He hasn't tried night operations, yet."
"A good thing," grunted Murdan. "Now, Librarian, I won't bluff you on this. I can't afford to carry on this siege longer than a few more days. I must recover Overhall and my assets within quickly. Another week and my men will have to eat promises and fight without pay. Soldiers who fight without food don't fight their best. You understand?"
"I will, of course, do all I can," replied the Librarian.
"That's all I ask, really." Murdan's tone had turned quite mild, rather worried and sad. "Come up with a way to stop Gugglerun by tomorrow night. Remember, it must be a temporary stoppage only. Without water, the castle will be useless to me afterward."
"I'll begin at once," promised Tom solemnly, and an idea at that very moment popped into his brain. "I may need some help."
"Come to me personally for anything within my pow-ers," said the Historian. "At any time. Wake me, if necessary!"
"For the moment, all I need is the Dragon Retruance," Tom said.
"Get on with it, then. Librarian."
The Master of Overhall gestured dismissal.
TOM found the Dragon waiting at the head of the breakfast line exchanging small talk with the soldiers. These made way again for the Librarian to stand beside his mount's head.
"I've been thinking of your great-grandfather's storeroom filled with papers," he told Retruance as they ate. "I've got to see them, either that or crawl inside the mountain and look for Gugglerun, on site."
18 Don Callander "Your first idea is the best," agreed Retruance. He downed six whole red-cheeked apples in quick succession, seeds, stems and all, chewing rapidly. "I take it you intend to sneak into the castle."
*The only way," said Tom with a shrug.
"It shouldn't be too difficult. A diversion seems required. I noticed when we arrived that everyone on the castle walls was watching the battle. We can slip in behind their backs if they have something outside to watch. Once inside, I can lead you to that storeroom." "I might slip in through some crack or other," considered the Librarian, shaking his head, "but you are much too large to go anywhere unnoticed, Retruance. I'll have to go alone." "Oh, nonsense!" Retruance Constable scoffed. "I can take care of that with a wave of a wing."
It did just that, snapping two six-inch claws on its right forepaw together. The sound made everyone in the mess tent jump and reach for swords and daggers. When they looked, the huge gold-green Dragon had disappeared!
Not exactly disappeared. Looking down, Tom discovered a half-foot-long version of the fifty-foot beast modestly refolding its wings on the edge of the table.
"Is that you, Retruance Constable?" he asked in surprise.
"None other!" said the other in a small voice. "Overdid it a bit. Out of practice at reducing, I guess. But maybe not. This size I could fit in your coat pocket if I curled my tail.
From there I can tell you where to go."
"We'll talk to Murdan first, to arrange a convincing diversion," decided the Librarian. "Best get started."
Retruance hopped off the table and followed the Librarian to the Historian's pavilion.
^3^ Breaking and Entering THREE companies of foot soldiers marched in good order up the grassy slope toward Overhall's main gate. As they marched they yelled out insults at the defenders and before they had moved halfway across the green, the battlements were black with Mercenary Knights, shouting back in deri-sion.
Halting just within range of the gate towers, the soldiers of Murdan each crouched down on one knee. A double rank of archers hidden behind them rose on tiptoe, bent their bows, and sent a blizzard of orange-shafted arrows arching toward the battlements.
The black-clad soldiers quickly ducked back behind protective crenellations, but not before a half dozen screamed in pain and fear and, twisting about, fell from the walls into the rushing moat.
"Archers!" someone shouted in a commanding voice. "Take your stands! Shoot the bowmen!"
Easier ordered than done, for the orange soldiers made poor targets at that distance, half-hidden in the tall grass. Murdan's expert bowmen popped up to loose a second and a third flight, each time clearing the walls for several moments.
In the interval, ten pairs of soldiers in orange dashed forward. In each pair, one man carried a large, square shield over his head while the other carried a coil of rope in one hand and a three-pronged grappling hook in the other.
At the verge of Gugglerun moat, the grapplers crouched beneath their heavy wooden shields and waited while the sharp blows of the black-clad archers reduced their protection to pincushions, with an incessant rattle like hail on a shed roof.
Watching from the edge of the field below the forest, 20.DRAGON COMPANION 21.
Don Callander Murdan saw that none of the grapplers fell in the first volley from the walls. Timing was everything here. If his archers did their work properly a The orange bowmen leaped to their feet again, sending a fourth and fifth cloud of arrows at the defenders on the battlements. Pour of the orange fell to the grass, joining several of the foot soldiers in death. But at least eight enemy archers fell, either back into their comrades' arms, or into the waiting moat.
Now the grapplers, as the defending archers drew back into cover, stepped from behind their shields, whirled the heavy hooks about their heads three or four times and let fly at the end of the drawbridge, fifteen feet over their heads and twenty feet across the moat.
Most of the hooks fell back into the water, to be reeled in by the throwers. Of the ten thrown, two caught!
"Now, get the hell out of there!" cried Murdan aloud, waving his arms frantically.
As if they had heard his order, the grapplers and their shield men waited for another volley from the field and then dashed out of range as fast as they could run. Only one stumbled and fell, a black shaft through his calf, but a running mate threw away his heavy shield and grabbed for his arm, helping him hobble out of range.
Enemy arrows fell on all sides of them but the pair reached safety at the bottom of the field without further harm. The soldiers and officers watching cheered lustily.
The two hooked lines that had caught on the end of the draw were carried back with the retreating throwers, all the way to waiting infantry. Everyone within reach grabbed onto the ropes and pulled as they fell back, just out of bowshot.
The drawbridge, almost vertical, was supported by heavy chains on each side, with links as large as a man's two hand spans. For a long moment, as the slack was taken up in the ropes, the chains resisted. The archers above showered the field with futile arrows, all falling short of the tugging orangemen.
A brave soul in the gate tower climbed to the top of the draw with a knife in his teeth, intending to slash the straining ropes. At a signal blast from a hom, a small party of mounted archers dashed across the field, shooting at the climber as they rode. An arrow flying close caused him to lose his grip and drop his knife. He slid, yelling, to the bottom of the span.
Before the mounted archers could retreat beyond the reach of the defenders' arrows, a ragged volley shot two from their saddles. The fallen were expertly plucked from the ground almost before they hit. The party rode back to the forest edge.
By now, the hauling on ropes overbalanced the counter-weights inside the gate tower. The bridge slowly came down and crashed on the near edge.
A dozen black-clad men sped out onto the bridge, shooting as they came. Someone slashed the ropes. The soldiers hauling on the ropes fell on their backs as the tension was released.
Before the orange archers could dash forward to shoot again, the drawbridge was rapidly cranked up.
MURDAN glanced up at the sun, took a moment to shake his fist and bellow an obscenity at the battlements, then turned back to camp.
"It almost worked!" said Graham, grinning broadly, "Something to try again, I think. Only a couple of our men dead to at least ten of theirs. That's remarkable in siege warfare."
"And it should have given my new Librarian time to cross the rear footbridge without being noticed," said the Historian. "I hope, at least. Anybody see if they made it?"
But everyone had been watching the frontal attack on the draw. They had forgotten to look for Tom and the shrunken Dragon.
"LOCKED!" Tom gasped, out of breath from the dash across the one-plank footbridge to the postern door of Overhall. "Damn it to hell!"
"Take a breather," advised the tiny Dragon in his coat pocket. "I'll take care of it."
Leaning far out of the pocket, Retruance blew a white-hot jet of flame as thick as a pencil at the lockplate. The rusty metal glowed red, then white. Then it cracked loudly and crumbled to several pieces as the wood around it smoked and flamed briefly. The castle's back door swung ajar.
22.DRAGON COMPANION 23.
Don Callander "In! In!" urged the Dragon. Tom stopped only to beat out the flames that licked at the wood around the lock, lest the smoke attract someone's attention.
"You and I should become burglars," chortled the Dra-gon.
"Later!" muttered the Librarian. "Which way now?" They plunged along a bare stone corridor between the aftermost and the middle of the castle's three tow-ers. Retruance had identified them by namea-Foretower, Middletower, and Aftertower. Middletower was the tallest by thirty feet or more, and while the other two were of nearly equal height, Aftertower was set highest on the ridge and thus appeared the tallest. On the west side, all three rose in a graceful, shallow curve from the ridge on which they were built, but were connected to each other on the east by a long, high-walled inner court. The court was lined with stables and barracks, the household kitchen, a bake house, workshops, and storerooms, both up against the bailey wall and beneath the tow-ers themselves. The road between them was broad enough to drive a pair of wagons side by side, but the rise from front to back was quite steep. In places, steps had been carved in the stone for foot traffic.
Into the upper part of this court the burglars came from the rear sally port. Tom paused to look about. There was no one in sight. As they had hoped, everyone had rushed to the front of the complex to watch or participate in the defense.
"That door over there, under Middletower," whispered Retruance, pointing with his tail. "Hop it! Sounds like the diversion has about run its course."
Tom sprinted across the road and dodged between a deserted smithy and a holding pen for horses waiting to be shod.
"Watch yourself!" hissed the Dragon to the horses. "Keep quiet about us!"
The three horses obediently turned away and resumed munching contentedly on oats from a feedbox attached to the pen wall.
"Horses can talk?" said Tom, panting as they reached the small service door.
"Of course they can, and they'll oblige a Dragon over a spurred horseman, any day. Besides, nobody listens to horses, except maybe stable lads. They'll forget about us in a couple of minutes, anyway. Short memories."
Tom twisted the doorknob and pulled at it. It wouldn't budge.
"Damn!" he swore.
"It opens in!" Retruance prompted. "See, the jamb is on the other side."
"Oh!" Tom breathed in relief. He pushed the door so hard he almost fell through when it swung open.
"In! In!" repeated the pocket-size Dragon. "Get it shut! Someone is coming up the road!"
Inside it was as black as a coal mine, but once under cover Tom took time to catch his breath and let his eyes become accustomed to the gloom. Ahead of them a corridor led straight into the base of Middletower, and on either side there were narrow stairs, one winding down and the other up.
"We go up," Retruance directed. "Household offices are on the second and third floor and Great-Grandfather's rooms are on the fourth."
"And above them?" asked Tom, climbing the stair. A dim cresset burned fitfully, high overhead, making it somewhat easier to see.
"Lady's quarters. Mistress's quarters, but Murdan's wife is long dead, so they may be empty. Children's nursery. Lookout post. Belfry under the roof."
They passed the second floor, moving silently on the dusty, worn steps, and then the third. No sounds came through the thick stone walls.
"I've seen lots of pictures of castles. Never been in one," puffed Tom when he paused to catch his breath. "Your ancestor seems to have done a superb job on Overhall, from what I've seen. The floors even here are level, the stairs are evenly spaced, and the walls aren't damp at all."
"Thank you. Sir Librarian," said Retruance, a bit sarcastically. "My family thanks you, too."
"This is the fourth level," Tom declared when they resumed climbing. "But there's no door!"
"Trick of the trade," explained the Dragon. "Here. I'll find it."
24.Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 25 It struggled free of Tom's pocket and flapped across the inner wall, examining it carefully.
"Ah, here *tis!" it cried softly. "In Altruance's day it generally stood open for ventilation."