A Mankind Witch (42 page)

Erik dusted his hands. If something did go wrong he'd be flattened. "This is just simple mechanics," he said with a confidence that he wished was real.

The biggest problem had been to find something to attach the pulleys to on the roof. Erik had noticed that the passage was wider at the top than the bottom. The three iron-hard poles could not—without being lifted and turned—come down.

"The lever is good," said Sjárr. "We understand those. But the rest is . . . interesting."

"Watch."

Using the enormous pole as a lever, Erik rolled the rock onto the net bag. If that broke he'd eat it—if he wasn't squashed flat. He'd tied those knots himself, and every good Icelander boy had done his time fixing and making nets. A net spread the load.

Now it was attached to the pulley. They'd tested these as exhaustively as possible. But there was no real way to test them on that rock—or with the rock's weight. And the rope was locally braided stuff. Who knew how strong it was?

Still. The pulleys were threaded. He hauled. The rope cracked alarmingly. Erik could feel veins standing out on his forehead.

"You don't have to haul it right through the ceiling, you know," said Vitr. "We like it. Can we have these devices? You've no further use for them now?"

Erik was so startled to discover he'd done his task, that he nearly dropped the boulder on himself. Lowering it gave him time to think.

"I'll bargain for horses. And to save us time arguing I'll settle for four of ours."

Vitr chuckled. "It'll save us feeding them anyway. Interesting principle, that double pulley."

The air was full of colored smoke. Cair brushed his bird with feathers and muttered in what, unless Erik was much mistaken, was Latin.

All four of the dwarves watched curiously as Cair readied the metal construction for flight. It looked, Erik thought, like a vicious kingfisher. Cair had carved the body out of soft wood and then cut it in half. Each half had been pressed into the molding material and the impression filled with wax. Then Cair had patiently hollowed the wax and used gypsum to fill in the hollow. Then he used his "lost wax" casting skills to cast the two halves. Careful soldering had joined it all together, with the glass paraphernalia inside. The only opening now was the throat. It was a work of art, Erik had to admit. The wings were separate and solid pieces of thin artistry. Only the join—a thin leaf spring of the finest and most flexible sword steel that Cair had been able to scavenge, was rather unlifelike. Still, it meant that when you tapped the wings they "flapped." The eyes, made from a broken amber bead Cair had produced from his pouch, seemed to glow with life. Cair had put his heart and soul into this piece of work, and he was a craftsman and an artist born, by the looks of it.

It might be very impressive, but Erik still didn't see how in the Hades it could fly or that Cair could even pretend it that did. He also knew Cair had very little time to do whatever he was planning to do. The bird had a bellyful of hot coals that should very soon melt the solder or start it whistling—he was not sure which would come first.

Cair chanted in Latin as he attached the horsehair cord to the bird's legs. He appeared as calm as any man could ever be. Only the professional bodyguard could pick up the small signs of tension, the slight nervous mannerisms.

"It has to fly properly, not be whirled around your head," said Sjárr, looking suspiciously at the horsehair cord.

Cair nodded. "If I was going to do that I would have attached the cord to its wings. This is just to restrain it from flying away before it sings. Now. You interrupt my preparations."

Erik could hear the faint hiss of steam. So could the dwarves. "What's that?" asked Fjalarr, eyes narrowed.

"Merely the magics beginning to work," said Cair. "Now.
Aves per aspera.
" Holding it by the legs he raised the bird above his head.

The hair on the back of Erik's neck prickled as he saw the wings lift and snap straight again. They were vibrating slightly.

And then Cair flicked it up. Well, that was how Erik saw it. It might have looked like someone releasing it, too.

The bird hung, flapping its wings, just under the cave roof. Then began to whistle as water from Cair's dropper dribbled onto the plate of now very hot iron within and turned to steam, with nowhere to escape but through the whistle just inside its throat.

Cair turned to his hosts. "My challenge is done. Now take us to the princess, and let us go."

The dwarves stared in incredulous delight at the iron bird. Erik had to prod them to get their attention. Cair had warned him that the whole thing just might explode.

He'd had enough of Cair's experiments with explosives for a lifetime. Anyone who didn't want that to be a very short lifetime should have that attitude.

Manfred and Signy were waiting with the horses. The dwarves had refused to let them in "because she might assist" and poor maligned Manfred "because he might make something explode." Huh. Did they ever have the wrong sow by the ear.

Bifröst bridge shimmered. It certainly didn't look in the least like a bridge. It looked like a rainbow. If he hadn't been quite so expectant of explosions behind him, Cair would have never ever ventured onto such a thing. Well—except that Signy had already stepped onto it, and her horse was prepared to follow. Horses would follow her anywhere. The rest of them were not so privileged. They had to blindfold their horses before walking out onto a bridge that felt solid enough beneath your feet but looked to be made of light and air.

"I do not believe in magic," said Cair, firmly not looking down. Those were clouds down there.

Erik was plainly suffering from similar problems. Or at least one problem, perhaps with being above the birds on a shimmering transparent bridge of many colors. "How does a man who doesn't believe in magic make a metal bird fly? What's that except magic?"

Cair snorted. "Magnetism. I had put a lot of magnetic ore on that rock shelf in the roof. That's what the leashes were for. Had I not anchored the iron bird down, it would have stuck to the roof."

Praise the day at evening;
a wife, when she's been burned;
a sword, when it's been tested.

—Hávamál

They stood on the mountaintop in the weak sunlight of a crisp winter morning.

"If I ever have to do that again," said Manfred, solemnly, "I need to be so drunk that I can't recall the first time. Remember that, Erik. I'm relying on you." He turned to Signy. "I don't suppose you know where we are?"

She nodded and pointed. "Yes, of course! This is my own country. I have ridden over most all of it. Kingshall is down there. You can see the smoke." Indeed it was clear against the pale sky, speaking of warm hearths and the places of men—far from trolls, kobolds, and black dwarves.

"So what do we do now?" said Manfred. "We've no idea of the date, and it seems very likely that if we take you down there, Signy, they'll kill you first and ask questions later."

"I am not afraid to die," said Signy proudly.

"Then either you need your brains taken out and mended, or you need to grow up and stop talking such nonsense," growled Erik, who had not entirely recovered from crossing a bridge of rainbows, light, and air yet. "Death is an uncertain country, and we've got a fair amount to achieve before things are set to rights. We've got to get the arm-ring out from under the stone, and get the culprit dealt with."

"In the meanwhile, I think the need to survive is the immediate problem," Cair pointed downslope. "We're not unlooked for, it would seem."

Looking down the hill, they could see a party of warriors who were pointing back up at them, and grabbing for weapons and rushing for horses.

"Either we're after Yule, or they're not planning to pay much attention to the truce," said Erik, wishing for armor, a good lance, and his Algonquin war-hatchet instead of a stolen sword that he didn't like the balance of. There were at least twenty warriors down there—and one was already on a horse, heading away, obviously a messenger going to bear news to someone, probably Vortenbras.

Manfred grunted sourly. "So much for a quiet arrival."

"Well," said Cair. "I doubt if we could have sneaked in. It would seem the dwarves tipped someone off about our coming."

Erik shook his head. "Not likely. Think about it, Cair. They'd have been up here, instead of camped down there if they'd known for sure. Most probable thing is that these were sentries. Bifröst joins to this world at certain known places. Mostly mountains."

Cair nodded. "So. I think we run?"

"Not very fast in this snow," said Erik. "The only clear trail is where they're coming up—and look at how they're sliding."

Signy snorted. "They're Vortenbras's foreigners. No local would try coming up an ice flume. Look." She pointed at the cut logs stacked off to their left. "The loggers come up here in winter and send the logs down the gully to the lake. In summer the logs would have to be dragged out—a long way around. So the loggers come up with barrels of water when it starts to freeze at night, and pour the water down the gully. It freezes and the logs slide all the way down."

Cair had already dismounted. Erik held his hand over his eyes. "Oh no!"

Manfred jumped down grinning. "Hell, why not? Even if it isn't after Yule if someone is stupid enough to get in the way of a log, that's their problem. That should even the odds a bit. And there doesn't seem to be anywhere to run to, except the bare patch on the top of the mountain. There simply isn't enough forest here to hide in. Let them get in the way at their peril."

"Ah," said Cair. "But what if we simply got out of their way, instead of them getting out of ours, in the same way? Lift that one so that we can lash it onto this one."

"I said 'Oh no!' because I recognize that evil look in his eyes," said Erik. "Can't you see what he's planning?"

Manfred paused in what he was doing. "Are you proposing to sled down on them, Cair?"

Cair nodded. "Down and past. There seem to be some horses in their encampment."

"Do you have any idea," asked Erik, "just how fast and how dangerous a sled like that could be? Sliding down an ice chute?"

"More dangerous than staying here?" said Cair, sardonically. "My head and the princess's are already forfeit. You two they might spare. Stay if you choose."

"He's got us out so far, Erik," said Manfred, hefting the logs with Cair. "Give us a hand."

"It's how close-run his crazy ideas have been that is worrying me. There are absolutely no explosives involved here, are there, Cair?"

"I have a few glass grenades saved for emergencies," admitted Cair. "This could become one if we don't get away."

Erik dismounted. "Given that sort of choice, an ice log flume is the safer option," he said wryly.

The warriors had about three hundred and fifty yards of snow to struggle through, and the leaders were down to the last fifty when Cair's latest mad invention was ready. Three logs were lashed together, the lead edge coarsely chopped into an upward-facing point. There were several leashes or reins to cling to.

They hauled it to the lip, just a few cubits away from the stack. And heaved it over. It didn't instantly begin sliding, but bogged down in the fresh snow. "We'll have to run with it. Get it moving," yelled Manfred, grabbing a leash and hauling, while below them the warriors attempted to urge their horses forward.

Cair's contraption began to slide. Reluctantly at first, and then with increasing pace.

"On, everybody!" Manfred shouted.

They dived for the logs, clinging, as the makeshift sled bucked and bounced over small obstacles, gathering speed, building momentum.

Fortunately—for them—the warriors had moved out of the gully a long time back and had been making their way up the sides of it.

The log sled passed them traveling faster than a crossbow bolt, in a shower of fresh snow and screaming. Erik knew he was but one of the screamers. The sled leapt like a salmon and did not quite flip over. And hurtled onward. Surely no mortal was intended to go this fast—blinded by snow—and live!

Yet they did . . . 

The sled slowed. And, wiping the snow from his eyes, Erik realized that Cair's crazy idea had had several unexpected consequences. The first one was that they had absolutely no chance of taking horses from their enemy's camp without a long trip back. The second was that if one unladen log was intended to reach the lake, three logs, plus the weight of four humans would go farther. A lot farther. The sled was still slithering along and the far side of the frozen lake was now looming, coming up relatively fast. The occupants of the small manor on the far side of the lake were disappearing into the trees as fast as their legs could carry them.

As a getaway device, the only two faults Erik could see were that it had carried them far from horses—and affected Manfred and Cair's brains.

"That has to be the greatest experience of a lifetime! A sport of kings!" said Manfred cheerfully. "I wonder if they'd mind if we went up and did it again?"

Cair patted the sled proudly. "And imagine if we could harness that speed. A ship moving that fast to Vinland! Why, we were moving faster than a gazelle . . . faster than a leopard, even."

"Why don't you just get them to fire you out of a cannon?" asked Erik, unclenching his hands from the makeshift leash. And then, seeing the look in Cair's eyes, he hastily said: "
No
. Forget I even mentioned the idea. Not that I'd mind firing you out of a forty-eight-pound bombard, but you would probably find some perfectly good reason for us all to join you. Now come on. Let's see if we can find some horses before we get joined by that bunch of warriors."

They didn't find enough horses. But they did at least find two sturdy horses and a sleigh. "If we live through this lot, we'll pay them for it," said Manfred. "Now let's get out of here before the owners get back, or those warriors get here."

"I wonder how something like this would do going down the ice flume?" said Cair speculatively.