Dragon - Dragon Companion - Dragon - Dragon Companion Part 41
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Dragon - Dragon Companion Part 41

put in Queen Beatrix. "I'd like to add my persona] thanks, Sir Thomasa"

"Just *Tom,' between us, please. Your Highness," Tom cried.

"Tom in private, then," agreed the queen. "I was lonely and desperate and very much afraid for myself, my babies, and my husband, also, when you came to Sweetwater Tow-er. My husband and I were bound and strangling in stifling traditions and foolish restrictions. You set us free! You gave me fresh air, sunshine, and a sense of my true worth once again."

"Just some gardening and some tomatoes," said Tom, and they all laughed heartily at his words.

Tom bowed deeply to the king. "I just don't feel that I've earned an Achievement of my own by what I've done, or just because Manda and I are to marry."

Said Eduard, "Are you claiming you're not capable, or not willing, or not worthy? Why do you object to the gift?"

Manda, close beside Tom, looked at him wonderingly, trying to understand what he was saying.

"No, no! It'sa I feela well, they're called Achievements, you see. I've achieved so little! I just came along for the adventure and because I liked Murdan from the first, and Retruance. And, of course, Manda!"

The king laughed and the others joined in, except Manda, who took Tom's hands.

316 Don Callander "Father, if my young man has a fault, it is overmodesty," she said, not taking her eyes from Tom's. "He forgets that he will have to support a Princess Royal, so he needs the income of a fruitful piece of land. His vote and voice will be needed in future Sessions, too, and for that he'll need an Achievement. Princesses Royal, my dear, do not come cheaply!"

"It's the future that makes me hand out Achievements," the king explained frankly. "I need to keep good mena-and womena-around me to ensure the future of the kingdom. If I need you, I must provide for you a place to call your home, where you'll be happy and content and at peace. Historya well, Murdan can lecture us on that. Carolna, although a peaceful nation that minds its own business, has been at war with someone or other for at least two-thirds of its recorded history. Isn't that right. Historian?"

"Correct, Majesty, and the role of Historian is to make sure kings and their followers don't make the same mistakes over and over again."

"I see," said Tom. "I once read that if we don't leam from history, we are condemned to repeat it."

Somehowa-Tom never understood quite howa-a wedding date was set for the spring to come and at once Manda and Momiea-who would wed Clem of Broken Landa- plunged into plans for a royal wedding. They were joined enthusiastically by Beatrix, Rosemary, and Manda's aunt, Lady Phyllis of Momingside, Granger Gantrell's pleasantly plump wife.

Granger, on Manda's recommendation, had been declared his brother's sole heir. The king thus gained a loyal allya- in fact, a large number of allies from among those who had once followed Peter of Gantrell.

"Some of *em I wouldn't trust with a fishing pole," Eduard confided. "But Granger can keep those in line. Or at least, keep an eye on them for me."

Refinance was busy tracing the disappeared Peter of Gantrell. The Dragon finally managed to track down the wizard who had sold Gantrell the vanishing spell. The mage couldn't say where Peter might have gone.

The king cried in exasperation, "I must know where Gantrell is and what he is about. He's a danger to the tranquility of the realm!"

DRAGON COMPANION 317.

"We'll keep looking, sire," Retruance promised. "Tomorrow, Tom and Clem and I will fly to the Frontier. We'll make sure the Mercenary Knights have left Carolna as they promised, and give some attention to the garrisons of the border forts. They might get complacent now things are peaceful once more. Lord King!"

Eduard gave his permission readily, as much to give the bridegrooms something useful to do as for any real benefit. Tom said good-bye to Manda late one evening as they walked hand in hand along the seawall below Sweetwater Tower.

"You don't mind my running off like this?" Tom asked anxiously.

"Of course not! You have things to do, and so do I. Not that I won't miss you terribly, my Tom! But I'll console myself with the joy of seeing you again, when you get back. Be careful! I worry a lot."

"I worry about you stabbing yourself with a needle," Tom teased. "I've seen you sew."

"Well, sir! I'm determined to make certain interesting items of clothing all by myself. You and you alone shall judge my skill!"

"You could find a more severe critic," Tom admitted.

"No one else will do!" she giggled, and threw herself into his arms.

WINTER had already gripped the Frontier. The garrison troops were bundled in woolens and furs and their breath made clouds of white steam when they spoke. A major of the Royal Guards greeted the travelers and showed Tom and Clem to warm quarters. The Dragon had a comfortable shelter the size of an airplane hangar awaiting him, with four roaring fires to fend the frost.

"No one's come this way recently, unless you count the weasely little man with a pass signed by Murdan the Historian two weeks ago."

"Weasely little man?" Retruance said, his ears prick-ing up with interest. "I think I know him. Did he give a name?"

"No, he said his mission for Murdan prevented it. We sent him on with a warm coat, for he wasn't dressed well for our weather, even then."

318 Don Callander "Plume, I bet!" cried Clem.

"Nobody else," agreed Tom. "He could forge Murdan's signature and his seal, certainly. Well, good riddance! Although I can't help but feel sony for Mistress Plume."

He recalled the lady's convenient disappearances when he and Manda needed a moment alone in Middletower.

"If the man is capable of forging a powerful instrument for safe passage," Retruance wondered aloud, "why would he come this way? He could have gone south and been warm as well as safe."

"What do you think?" asked Tom.

"I think he had a destination in mind. Or someone to meet."

"But," objected the major, "there's nothing beyond here save a few scattered Barbarians."

"Quite so," said Retruance. "I recall that Gantrell had contacts among the Rellings, the self-proclaimed lords of the Barbarians. I am considering a flight over their camp, just to check my suspicions."

"Oh no! You mean we missed the first and second biggest quarry of the year?" moaned the major, striking his forehead. "How will we explain that to the king!"

"Don't worry. Major. Gantrell used magic to transport himself across the borders. And this Plume is a rascal of the first water. No blame falls to you or your men. You may say I said so, in your report."

The officer thanked the Dragon profusely, but still looked worried and upset when he left them.

"Well, we'll have to keep our eyes on the Barbarians, too," said Clem. "Who appointed me guardian of the kingdom? I was better off as a plain old smelly fur trapper!"

"I have the king's charge to seek out Gantrell," Retruance pointed out. "When I need you and Tom, I will call for help.

Agreed?"

"Anytime! Anytime at all!" said the woodsman with a grin.

"WHAT gossip?" called the Dragon into an ice cave in the side of a glacier, fifty miles northeast of the Frontier. From within came a bad-tempered growl and there shortly appeared a big bone-white head, hung with blue icicles and splashed with dirty clumps of snow that looked like some loathsome skin diseasea-or scale disease, in this case, for the inhabitant of the cave was a Dragon.

"You come calling almighty early!" snarled the Ice Dra-gon, puffing a cloud of frosted breath at his hot-bodied cousin. "It isn't even November yet, by the gods of sleet and icicles!"

"I was just passing this way, sort of reconnoitering for Eduard Ten," Retruance explained. "Not many people I know in these parts, so I took a chance on you being up."

"October, and he wants to be sociable!" grumped the ice beast. "Argh!"

"I'll leave, then," offered Retruance, and he turned to go. "Good winter, Hoarling!"

"Oh, damn!" swore Hoarling. "Wait. We'll talk awhile! I am a wintry type, as you know, and waken in a foul mood more often than not."

They repaired at the Ice Dragon's suggestion to a fro-zen inlet covered by foot-thick ice. Hoarling smashed a hole in the ice and fished for his breakfast while they chatted. He didn't offer Retruance any of his catch but gobbled them up as fast as he could snatch silvery cod from the water.

"You've not had time yet to check on your neighbors, then?" Retruance inquired politely.

"I keep an eye on them a as they do on me," grunted Hoarling. "We have no love for each other. If they weren't so hot, I'd have eaten them all centuries ago. Yes, I scouted 320 Don Callander around a few days ago. They were making a hellish great racket for some reason." "Well, then, did you hear of a Carolnan lordling in the igloos of the Relling? I know he's there, but not exactly where a or why."

"Oh, you mean this Gantrell the Exile? Yes, I heard of him from a private sources. He's sought sanctuary with the Rollings, I'm told."

"And have they granted it to him?"

"I gather. I also gather that they had a prior agreement, just in case Gantrell fled Carolna, as he did once before."

"What does he ask of the Grand Whatever, the Relling leader?"

"You mean the Grand Blizzardmaker, which is what he calls himself. Ha! Grand Windbag, I call him! These piddling little elflings have grandiose ideas of themselves, hey? How anyone can abide them is beyond me."

Retruance let the observation pass without comment. He watched the Ice Dragon claw-snag and devour six more large codfish in rapid succession before going on.

"The Rollings will suffer Lord Peter to stay among them, you say?"

"They say he's sold the Flatulent Flounder on creating a union with the other tribes. Hell, it's something they do once every seven years. Usually ends in great betrayals, name-callings, and carnages. Barbarians get along least well with other Barbarians, you should know."

"Hmmm," said the hot Dragon, deep in thought. "Tell me, Hoarling a what could I pay you to keep watch on Peter of Gantrell for us? He's a thorn in our sides, I must admit."

Hoarling popped two last twelve-pound cod into his rime-rimmed mouth and crunched them thoughtfully while he considered Retruance's offer.

"You think this Gantrell will try to mobilize the Barbarians against Carolna?"

"I certainly think he'd like to"

"Damn all your hot-pots! Barbarians are better left to their own nasty devices." "I couldn't agree more." "I'll keep an eye on your Gantrell and the Sacred Sardine for you, cousin, and get word to you if they get snotty.

DRAGON COMPANION 321.

In exchange, I'll ask a favor of you one day, Retruance Constable."

"A blind favor? You're not that scrupulous, Hoarling, that I would tie myself up with a knot like that."

"Gull droppings! It wouldn't be anything you couldn't in conscience do, my friend. Hey, I'm not a nasty sort. But I have enemies and I may someday need your fire and steam to help me out of a tight spot."

Retruance thought about it for several moments as the fishing hole in the sea inlet quickly refroze.

"Well, will you make a deal. Constable?"

"Yes, I will, but not to do anything that I think immoral or illegal or cruel, you know."

"Understood! Then I shall go back to bed for a cou-ple more weeks, until the weather improves. Gantrell and Rellings won't do a thing but talk before spring, I guess."

The Dragons, fire and ice, touched front claws to seal the bargain, and by sunrise Retruance was sound asleep in the border outpost.