Her Majesty's Wizard #1 (14 page)

   "Uh..." Matt shook his head, trying to dispel the haze to which he'd been since he first sighted the girl. "'Thanks, but I'd better not. I've got friends back there, and they'll be worried."

   "Then they shall be told and invited to share what comforts I can offer. Captain, see to it!"

   The captain moved away to tell off a party of six men to head back to the campsite. Swords snapped into scabbards, and the rest of the men formed up for a march.

   Matt found himself alone for the moment, holding the bare sword in his hand, with no place to put it. He frowned, then recited,

   "To carry this weapon, a sheath I do need, Expressly designed for this wonderful blade, Making easy the draw when the sword must be freed, So here at my side let this scabbard be made."

   A scabbard was suddenly at his hips, belted around his waist. The sword slipped easily into it, just as Sayeesa returned to his side. The captain's cape was about her shoulders now, but she seemed not to notice that it left an open strip down her front.

   Her smile was compelling as she placed a hand on his arm. "Come, let us be off!"

   With the girl at his side and her hip pressing against his, Matt forgot to notice in which direction they marched. Nor was he aware of how long the journey took.

   Then the soldiers halted, and Matt jerked to a stop, staring.

   Before him stood a palace. High walls glowed, and tall, slender towers glittered with fairy lights. The whole seemed to be made of jade. And from it came a procession of Sayeesa's servitors. There must have been a hundred of them, joyfully welcoming her. All were young and beautiful-except two. The pair of guards before the entrance were at least seven feet tall and half as broad, burly and ugly. Their skins were of a walnut shade.

   "Does my home please you?" Sayeesa asked. At his enthralled nod, she waved her hand. "Then enter, that we may partake of its delights."

   Inside, candles glowed everywhere. The air was filled with some heavy scent that seemed to go to Matt's head instantly. And the hallway was lined with statues, mostly of young men, though a few were of lovely girls. They seemed almost alive, each with a dazed but delighted expression.

   "Marvelous!" Matt exclaimed. "What great sculptor shaped them?"

   The girl hesitated, then admitted, "They are of my crafting."

   "You? Lady, you're amazing!" He was standing very close to her, looking downward where the cape was open. "Almost unbelievable," he breathed.

   She laughed and spun away with a coy glance at him.

   "You regain your strength quickly, Sir Knight. But come hither, and I'll attend to-your wounds."

   `Hither' turned out to be a Roman bath, tiled in sapphire, with a huge sunken pool. There she turned him over to a pair of female servants, making some excuse about more suitable garb. They seated him on a bench. One removed his jacket while the other stripped off his shoes and socks.

   But when one started unbuckling his belt, Matt called a halt. "I'll do that myself."

   The girl's face registered astonishment and a trace of what might have been fear. "But sir, 'tis our custom!"

   "Not mine." Matt caught an arm around each girl's waist and ushered them toward the door. "Out!"

   They went, but before the door closed fully, he caught a snatch of conversation.

   "Fear not. Remember, the priest was like that."

   "Aye, 'tis what troubles me."

   Matt slipped out of his clothes and waded into the pool., From the edge, it went down in a series of foot-high steps. He stepped down twice, then seated himself and leaned back against the warm tiles behind him with a blissful sigh. Here the heady perfume seemed stronger. The warm, murky aroma seemed to fill his head, inducing visions.

   Then he heard a silken rustle behind him. Sayeesa had slipped into something that seemed almost transparently blue and silken, low at the throat.

   "Rest, Sir Knight," she crooned. Her hands crept to his shoulders, kneading and massaging. "My bath has wondrous minerals in it to heal your wounds."

   Matt started to protest, but Sayeesa was now stroking a cool, scented cream over his shoulders and biceps, crooning a soft, restful song in some strange language. The feel of her hands spreading the salve over his wounds and her crooning, combined with the silken sounds of her movements, drove all other thoughts from his mind.

   There was a rough knock, and the door flew open, to show the captain standing there.

   Suddenly Sayeesa's voice was harsh. "You know better than to disturb me! Out!"

   The captain seemed to cringe, but his voice was insistent. "The man and woman have arrived."

   "You know where they go!" Sayeesa snapped.

   "But ... you have the keys!"

   For a moment, Sayeesa stood irresolute. Then she nodded. "Very well. I'll come. Forgive me, Sir Knight. Matters of import call me. My servants will show you to your room."

   She left; a moment later, the two serving girls were back. One held a supply of towels; the other laid a magnificent robe on the bench. They stared uncertainly, but left when he waved them away. By the time they returned, he was dried and attired in the robe.

   They led him to two huge, gilded doors, which two other servants threw wide. Matt stepped into the bedroom of his less printable dreams. It was draped with tapestries, with a carpet which seemed to engulf his feet as he stepped on it. The bed was canopied, with curtains drawn back to show a gold-and-silver bedspread. It seemed that a squadron might sleep on its expanse.

   "There is brandywine by the bedside and fruit in the bowl," one girl told him, while the other turned down the covers for him. "If you need aught else, you have but to call."

   Matt stepped up to the bed, sat, and rolled onto his side. The pillow seemed to mold itself to his head, and his body was cushioned in total luxury. He yawned, and his eyes closed.

   A touch on his shoulder brought him awake quickly, and he looked up to see Sayeesa in the sheerest of silken robes. She bent over him, and the robe parted. She slipped onto the bed and lifted the counterpane over her, stretching luxuriously. "You lack chivalry, Sir Knight," she purred, reaching out to caress his cheek. "Will you not show welcome to a lady?"

   Matt was about to do so when a slow, seductive chant sounded, coming closer. Draperies across the room rippled and parted, and a blonde and a brunette stepped through. Each carried a sort of crystal vase with a thick-looking fluid in it.

   Sayeesa sat up stiffly, and the look on her face made the two girls flinch back. The brunette gasped. "Milady, here are the oils. Do you not wish us to help..."

   Their words wilted under her glare, they shrank away. Bowing low, they shuffled backward between the tapestries.

   "How could I so lose control?" Sayeesa muttered to herself. "Is this one so much more that I cannot wait for each measure?"

   "..Beg pardon?"

   "Why, naught." She turned to face him, her face smoothing out into a lazy, inviting smile. "Or do you truly wish explanation, sir?"

   "I hate explanations." Matt reached for her again. "I much prefer demonstrations."

   He was about to begin when he felt her body stiffen. Her face turned dark with fury, and she sat up with an air of slow, building menace. "What do you here?"

   One of the brawny, walnut-skinned guards stood there, his arms full of ironware. Matt made out something like handcuffs and a pair of what seemed to be whips.

   "Milady commanded me to bring them," the creature grated.

   "I did not!" It was almost a shriek. "Wherefore should I wish for such vile instruments? Get you gone, or 'twill be the axe for you!"

   The guard seemed to quiver with terror. He bowed stiffly and shuffled backwards, with a sound like sandpaper sandals.

   Sayeesa slowly settled back, still frowning. Matt reached for her, but with a measure of uncertainty this time.

   His doubts were justified. A great gong sounded, and she sat up abruptly.

   The captain strode though the door, making no effort to be silent.

   "What now troubles us?" Sayeesa demanded. "You had best have good reason for this incursion, captain!"

   "Madam," he said, bowing to her, "there is a dragon at the gate, attempting to destroy all this palace. And he is demanding-"

   "I can guess his demands," she interrupted. "Man the defenses. I shall take measures below."

   She was gone in a rush, with the captain trailing her.

   Matt lay back, wondering what madness afflicted this place. A dragon? But why should a dragon assault the lady's palace? He puzzled over it briefly, but his thoughts were hazy, and he began to slip back into a sort of fantasy in which Sayeesa did not go running off.

   Then words seemed to burn in his brain.

   Lord Matthew, I summon you by Earth, Air, and Water. Aid me now, for my peril is great!

   It was the voice of Alisande!

   Matt sprang up, staring in bewilderment at the garish surroundings in which he found himself. What devilish spell had be been under?

   No time to think about it. He barreled through the door and along the hall to a cross corridor. Which way now? A bedlam of screaming came from both sides.

   The ones to the right were louder. Matt kicked out in a run, just as a roar like an overfed steam boiler blasted out, and the screaming went wild. He skidded to a halt at the end of the corridor, where it reached the main hall. A line of soldiers barred his way, their backs to him. He lowered his head and charged, and they bowled forward like tenpins. He snatched up a battle-axe, to find himself facing the dragon, reared back on its hind legs, with its neck stretched out and fire in its mouth. Searing flame blasted out.

   Matt leaped aside, and the flame struck the row of soldiers behind him.

   "Stegoman!" he shouted. The gigantic head swiveled toward him, weaving, an ugly glint in its eyes. Matt had seen that look before. "Stegoman! I'm Matthew-Lord Wizard-your friend."

   "Lord Wizh ..." The dragon's eyes filled with confusion.

   Matt leaped, bounced his foot off Stegoman's shoulder, and landed between two of the huge fins. "You came here seeking the princess, Sir Guy, and me-remember? Well, you've found me."

   "Then let ush sheek out the otherzh!" Stegoman slammed down on all fours, searing a blowtorch arc across everything near him.

   "You're wasting time, you loony lizard!" Matt had begun to put the clues he had together, now that his mind was clearing. "They must be in the dungeons-probably being tortured. We've got to find a way down..."

   "Torture? I'll torch them! Vile hatchling hunterzh!" Stegoman reared back his head and blowtorched the floor. The marble cracked with a series of bursts and explosions. He let out another blast-furnace breath, and the floor gave way with a roar.

   A huge shock jarred Matt's bones. He gasped and flung the battle-axe over his head, holding it broadside, like an umbrella. A few last shards of charred marble clanged off the improvised shield. Then things were relatively quiet.

   Light from the huge hole overhead showed undressed stone walls and floor. They'd fallen at least thirty feet. "We're in the cellar," Matt said. "You all right?"

   Before Stegoman could answer, a clamor of battle cries sounded from their right. Sayeesa's troops were probably gathering to protect the last stronghold.

   Stegoman turned toward the noise, breathing torches. Fifty feet ahead, light gleamed off armor. The dragon jumped into a gallop, sending flame gouting twenty feet ahead. The lurid glow of his fire lighted tall, slender soldiers in golden armor. They shrieked, jamming into the second row behind them. In a moment, the hall was packed solid with struggling bodies.

   Matt glanced at the ceiling, twenty feet overhead, and yelled, "Up and over, Steogman! Up and over!"

   The dragon grunted and leaped. Matt pressed himself back against the fin, hearing howls of agony as the great claws tore at heads.

   They burst into a huge room, lighted by a score of torches and a huge fire in a pit near the far wall. The place was cluttered with objects. Matt recognized a few: a tall coffin lined with spikes; the pallet and drum of a rack; and thumbscrews and whips lining the walls.

   Alisande and Sir Guy were there, chained to the left wall, their arms manacled over their heads. Sir Guy was stripped to his shirt and hose, and Alisande to her shift. One of the huge guards was approaching with a six-foot branding iron, but they looked untouched, so far.

   Sayeesa stood at the side, but she whirled as Matt and Stegoman burst in. Her eyes widened in terror, but she swung to seize the branding iron. "Now, Lady!" she screamed at Alisande. "Command them to stand fast, or you shall know the taste of hot iron!"

   "I obey no foul minion of Evil," Alisande snapped.

   The branding iron stabbed out. Matt bellowed, and Stegoman charged, roaring fire. Sayeesa dropped the iron and jumped as the flame seared the guards around her. Matt leaped down and ran toward the princess.