Castle Roogna (27 page)

       "We'd better start with the lord of the jungle," Dor said. "If he goes along with it, most of the rest will. That is the nature of jungles."

       "And if the lord does not cooperate?"

       "Then you will use your safety line to yank me out of his reach, in a hurry."

       Jumper affixed a dragline to him, then carried the other end. In an emergency, the spider would be able to act quickly. Dor found himself wishing he had a silk-making gland; those lines were extremely handy.

       The spider found him a rock in the dark. "Where is the local dragon king?" Dor demanded of it.

       The stone directed him to a narrow hole in a rocky hillside. "This is it?" Dor inquired dubiously.

       "You'd better believe it," the cave replied.

       "Oh, I believe it!" Dor said, not wishing to antagonize the residence of the monster he hoped to bargain with.

       "And if you care to depart uncooked, you'd better not wake the monarch," the cave said.

       Jumper chittered. "That small cave has a large mouth."

       "What?" the cave demanded.

       Dor gulped. "I have to wake him." Then he put his hands to his mouth and called. "Dragon! I must parlay. I have news of interest to you."

       There was a snort from deep within the cave. Then a plume of smoke wafted out, white in the blackness, followed by a rolling growl. The scent of scorch suffused the air.

       "What does he say?" Dor asked the cave. "He says that if you have news of interest, come into his parlor. Your life depends on the accuracy of your advance promotion."

       "His parlor?" Jumper chittered. "That is an ominous phrasing. When a spider invites-"

       Dor had not bargained on this. "In there? In the dragon's cave?"

       "See any other caves, man-roast?" the cave demanded.

       Jumper made another soft chitter. "Huge mouth!"

       "I guess I'd better go down," Dor said. "I have better night vision; let me go," Jumper chittered.

       "No. You can't use objects to translate the dragon's speech, and I can't jump into trees and string a line to the castle wall. I must talk with the dragon. You must be ready to bear the news." He swallowed again. "In case my mission fails. You can communicate with Millie, now, by signals."

       Jumper touched him with a foreleg, the pressure expressive. "Your logic prevails, friend Dor-man. I shall listen by this entrance, and return alone if necessary. I will draw you up by the dragline if you call, rapidly. Have courage, friend."

       "I'm scared as hell." But Dor remembered what the gorgon had said about courage: that it was a matter of doing what needed to be done despite fear. He was bleakly reassured. Maybe technically he would be a dead hero, instead of a dead coward. "If-if something happens, try to salvage some piece of me, and keep it with you. I think the return spell will orient on it, and carry you home when the time is up. I wouldn't want you to be trapped in this world."

       "It would not be doom," Jumper replied. "This world is a novel experience."

       More of an experience than Dor had bargained for! He took a breath, then slid into the cave's big mouth. The interior was not large enough to permit him to stand, as the throat constricted, but that did not mean the dragon was small. Dragons tended to be long and sinuous.

       The passage curved down and around, so black it was impossible to see. "Warn me of any drops, spikes, or other geographic hazards," Dor said.

       "There are none, other than the dragon," the wall replied. "That's more than enough."

       "I wish there were a little light," Dor muttered. "Too bad I gave away my wishing ring."

       The dragon growled from below. "You want light?" the wall translated. "I'll give you light!" And tongues of bright flame snaked up the passage.

       "Not that much!" Dor cried, cringing from the heat.

       The flames subsided. It was evident that the dragon understood human speech, and was not blasting him indiscriminately. That was both reassuring and alarming. If there was anything more dangerous than a dragon, it was an intelligent dragon. Yet of course the smartest dragon would be most likely to rise to leadership in the complex hierarchy of the wilderness. Provided it also possessed sufficient ferocity.

       Dor emerged at last in the stomach of the cave. This was the dragon's lair. The light waxed and waned, here, as the monster breathed and the flames washed out of his mouth. In the waxing the whole cave glittered, for of course the nest was made of diamonds. Not paltry ones like those of the small flying dragon Crunch the ogre had cowed; huge ones, befitting the status of the lord of the jungle. They refracted the light, reflected it, focused it, and broke it up into rainbow splays. Colors cascaded across the walls and ceiling, and bathed the dragon itself in re-reflected hues. Crunch the ogre would never beard this monster in his den!

       And the dragon himself: his scales were mirror-polished, iridescent, and as supple and overlapping as the best warrior's mail. The great front jaws were burnished brass tapering to needlepoints, and its snout was gold-plated. The eyes were like fall moons, their veins reminiscent of the contours of the green cheese there, and as the light changed the cheese changed flavor.

       "You're beautiful!" Dor exclaimed. "I've never seen such splendor!"

       "You damn me with faint praise," the dragon grumped.

       "Uh, yes, sir, I come to-"

       "What?" the dragon demanded through a blaze of fire.

       "Sir?"

       "That was the word."

       Dor had suspected it was. "Uh, sir, I-"

       "All right already. Now what does a Man-Magician want with the likes of me, a mere monster monarch?"

       "I come to, uh, make a deal. You know how it is not safe, uh, I mean expedient, for you to, uh, eat men, and-"

       The dragon snorted a snort of flame uncomfortably close to Dor's boots. "I eat what I eat! I am lord of the jungle."

       "Yes, sir, of course. But men are not of the jungle. When you eat too many of them, they start making, er, difficulties. They use special magic to-"

       "I don't care to talk about it!" This time the snort was pungent smoke.

       "Uh, yes. Sir. What I'm trying to say is that there are some men who need, er, eating. Mundane men from outside Xanth, who don't have magic. If you and your cohorts cared to, uh-"

       "I begin to absorb your drift," the dragon said. "If we were to indulge in some, shall we say, sport, your Magicians would not object? Your King Whats-his-name-?"

       "King Roogna. No, I don't believe he would object. This time. Provided you ate only Mundanes."

       "It is not always easy to tell at a glance whether a given man is native or Mundane. You all taste alike to us."

       Good point. "Well-we'll wear green sashes," Dor said, thinking of some bedspreads he had seen in the Zombie Master's castle. They could be torn into sashes. "It would be only in this region; don't go near Castle Roogna."

       "Castle Roogna is in the territory of my cousin, who can be touchy about infringements," the dragon said. "There is plenty to eat in this area. Those Mundanes are especially big and juicy. I understand. Is there a time limit?"

       "Uh, would two days be enough?"

       "More than enough. Shall we say it commences at dawn tomorrow?"

       "That's fine."

       "How can I be sure you speak for your King?"

       "Well, I-" Dor paused, uncertain. "I suppose it would be best to verify it. Do you have a swift messenger?"

       The dragon snapped his tail. It was out of sight, far down the bowels of the cave, but the report was authoritative. It was answered by a squawk, and in a moment a chickenlike bird fluttered into the main chamber. It was a woolly hen, with curly fleece instead of feathers. Dor knew little about this breed, except that it was shy, and could move quite rapidly.

       "Uh, yes," he said. "Uh, have you anything to write with?" He had certainly come unprepared.

       The dragon jetted smoke toward a wall. Dor looked. There was a niche. In the niche were several paper-shell pecans and an inkwood branch. "I have a secretary-bird," the dragon growled in explanation. "She likes to write to her cousin across the Gap. Then she carries the letter herself, because she trusts no one else to do it. Why she doesn't simply chatter out her gossip directly I don't know. But she's good at keeping track of things around here such as which monster needs a chomping and which a scorching, and when the next rainstorm is due, so I keep her on. She's across the Gap now; she'll set up an unholy squawk when she finds her stuff's been used, but go ahead and use it."

       Dor unfolded a length of paper from a shell, took a splinter of inkwood, and somewhat laboriously wrote: KING ROOGNA: PLEASE AUTHENTICATE PERMISSION FOR MONSTERS TO SLAY MUNDANES FOR TWO DAYS WITHOUT PENALTY. NECESSARY TO LIFT MUNDANE SIEGE OF CASTLE OF ZOMBIE MASTER, WHO WILL COME TO YOU THEREAFTER. ALL XANTH CITIZENS IN VICINITY TO WEAR GREEN SASHES TO DISTINGUISH THEM FROM MUNDANES. SIGNED, MAGICIAN DOR.

       He folded the note and gave it to the woolly hen. "Take this to the King, and return immediately with his answer."

       The bird took the note in her beak and took off. She was gone in a puff of wool dust, so quickly that he never saw her move.

       "I must admit this prospect pleases me," the dragon king remarked, idly stirring up a mound of diamonds with one glistening claw. "If it should fall through, I might recall how you disturbed my sleep. Don't count on your spider friend to draw you out; my flame would burn up his line instantly."

       The nature of the threat was absolutely clear to Dor. He felt like screaming and kicking his feet, certain that would relieve some tension; it always seemed to work for Millie. But he wore the guise of a man; he had to act like a man. "I was aware of the hazard when I committed myself to your lair."

       "You do not attempt to beg, or to threaten me with vague retribution," the dragon said. "I like that. The fact is, it is impolitic to toast Magicians, and I especially do not want to aggravate the Zombie Master. That roc of his has been scouring the area for bodies. I would not care to tangle with that big bird for esthetic reasons. So I do not intend to toast you-unless you attempt to do me mischief."

       "I thought that might be your attitude. Sir."

       The woolly hen returned in another cloud of dust, bearing another note. Dor took it and read it aloud: PERMISSION AUTHENTICATED. GO TO IT. SIGNED, THE KING.

       He showed it to the dragon.

       "That would seem to be it," the dragon said, puffing out a satisfied torus of smoke. "Hen, go out to my subjects and summon them for a rampage. Tell them to get their tails swinging or I'll burn them off. I will instruct them in one hour." He angled his snout toward Dor. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, sir."

       But Dor was wary. He remembered Magician Murphy's curse on Castle Roogna: anything that could go wrong, would. This message had related to that project Why hadn't the curse operated? This had been too easy.

       "You had better depart before my cohorts arrive," the dragon said. "Until I instruct them, they will consider you and the spider fair game."

       "Uh, I-" Then Dor had an idea. "Let me just check something, sir. A mere formality, but…" He addressed the paper he held. "Did you come from the King?"

       "I did," the paper replied.

       "And the message you bear really is his message?"

       "It is."

       "Your magic seems to endorse the message," the dragon said. "I am satisfied. Why question it?"

       "I'm just…cautious. I fear something could have gone wrong."

       The dragon considered. "Obviously you are not experienced with conspiracies and bureaucratic entanglements of the sort we encounter in the wilderness. Ask it which King."

       "Which King?" Dor repeated blankly.

       "The Goblin King," the paper answered.

       Dor exchanged a dismayed glance with the dragon. "The Goblin King! Not King Roogna?"

       "Not," the paper agreed.

       "That idiotic bird!" the dragon exploded, almost singeing Dor with his fiery breath. "You sent it to the King, without specifying which King, and the Goblin King must have been closer. I should have realized the response came too fast!"

       "And naturally the Goblin King sought to mess us up," Dor concluded. "Murphy's curse did operate. A misunderstanding was possible, so-"

       "Does this mean we have no deal?" the dragon inquired ominously through a ring of smoke.

       "It means our deal has not been authenticated by King Roogna," Dor said. "I'm sure the King would agree to it, but if we can't get a message through-"

       "Why would the Goblin King authenticate it? I have had some experience with goblins, and they are not nice creatures. They don't even taste good. Surely the goblins should be more pleased to foul up our deal than to facilitate it. The goblins have no love for men, and not much for dragons."

       "That is strange," Dor agreed. "He should have sent a note saying 'deal denied,' so we couldn't cooperate. Or else just held it without answering, so we would be stuck wailing."

       "Instead he gave exactly the response we wanted from the Human King, so we would not delay," the dragon said. He puffed some more smoke, thoughtfully. "What mischief would occur if beasts started slaying men in great numbers, without approval?"

       Dor considered that. "A great deal of mischief," he decided. "It would become a matter of principle. The King can't allow unauthorized slaying; he is opposed to anarchy. Such an act could possibly lead to war between the monsters and all the King's men."

       "Which could result in internecine slaughter, leaving the goblins dominant on land," the dragon concluded. "They already have considerable force. Those netherworld goblins are tough little brutes! I think your kind would have real trouble, were it not for the distraction the harpies pose to the goblins. The one thing those creatures do well is breed. There are now a great many of them."