Songs & Swords 2 (17 page)

“We three will remain nearby,” Elaith announced,

“Balindar and me to protect my interests, and the minstrel to provide spellsong magic if the need arises.”

Danilo faced down the elf, his gray eyes cold. ‘That’s not what we agreed. You’ll not put Wyn at risk?

“By standing here quibbling instead of announcing your intentions to the dragon, you risk us all,” Elaith countered, pointing to the campfire. “How long do you think it will take the dragon to realize that there are travelers in the forest?”

“Ws best to do as he says,” Wyn told Danilo. “He’s quite right about the dragon. We will do whatever we must to retrieve that scroll.”

The Harper conceded with a terse nod, and Balindar and the two elves took cover downwind in a nearby copse of young birch and giant ferns. Morgalla loosely tied the three remaining horses near the escape trail, and Vartain cut a branch of pine and quickly swept the sandy clearing free of footprints.

Then they joined Danilo at the cookfire. To all appearances, they were the only three who had come in the clearing. When all was in readiness, Danilo took his place on a moss-covered rock and began to adjust -his lute’s tuning pegs.

“Get on with it!” Elaith hissed from the nearby copse.

`This dragon of yers is gonna be a nice change o’ pace,” Morgalla muttered to Danilo, glaring at the moon elf’s hiding place.

Danilo took a deep breath and began to sing the words to the Ballad of Grimnoshtadrano, adding a new stanza that outlined his demands.

“Now what?” the dwarf asked when the song was done. “We wait,” the Harper responded. “In a few minutes, I’ll sing it again.”

They waited for nearly an hour, and Danilo sang the challenge several times, before their patience was rewarded.

A huge, winged creature came into view over the clearing. Grimnoshtadrano swooped down along the bank of Unicorn Rua, his enormous bat-like wings curved to catch the play of sun-warmed air rising from the river. With astonishing grace, the dragon landed lightly on the bank nearby, and he walked toward the clearing on all fours. The three terrified horses tore free of their bindings and raced off down the path. Their riders scarcely noticed.

Danilo watched the dragon’s approach with awe. He had never seen a dragon before, and Grimnoshtadrano was not the creature of legend he’d expected. Danilo had always pictured a dragon as a hulking monster, an imposing presence, deadly but rather ponderous. Rather like his Uncle Khelben, now that he thought of it. Grimnosh was certainly huge—Dan guessed that the dragon was a good eighty feet from snout to tail tip—but he was beautiful and exceedingly graceful, and his long slender tail twirled in the air above him in constant, sinuous motion. The dragon moved through the underbrush as silently as any other forest creature. His scales didn’t clank like some reptilian version of plate armor, and their surfaces reflected every shade of green in the forest. As the dragon approached, Danilo noted that his coloring changed to match the foliage around him. Apparently Grimnosh could change color at will also, for when the dragon fully entered the clearing his scales took on the brilliant, gemlike shades of emerald, jade, and malachite. Crown jewels, Danilo noted, and the analogy fit the regal creature.

When Grimnoshtadrano was fully in the clearing, he began to circle the three adventurers like a wolf closing in, studying them all the while. His eyes were golden green, slashed by vertical pupils and bright with a cold, alien intelligence.

“Well?” the dragon inquired. His voice was a deep, inhuman rumble that reminded Danilo of the reverberation of a kettledrum. Setting aside his lute, the Harper rose to his feet and bowed deeply to the dragon.

“Well met, noble Grimmoshtadrano. I am Danilo Thann of Waterdeep, Harper and bard, and these are my companions, bards both. You know what we seek from the words of my song.”

“This little trifle, I believe?” Grimnosh sat back on his haunches, and with a forepaw he removed a large bag slung over one of his horns. From it he pulled a roll of parchment. He laid it on the ground in front of him, and then placed beside it a small golden cask. With the tip of his tail he flicked open the latch and lifted the lid to reveal a hoard of sparkling gems. “You are prepared to earn this?”

“My talents do not run to riddles,” Danilo said. “I have brought you a more worthy opponent”

Vartain rose, his bald head held high. “I am Vartain of Calimport, a riddlemaster trained in the Mulhorand tradition. I have traveled from southern Shaar to Waterdeep, from the western Moonshaes to the eastern lands of Rashemen, collecting riddles and stories from a hundred kingdoms. From these, I have compiled a three-volume collection of riddles housed with honor in the libraries of Candlekeep. I am a scholar of languages both modern and forgotten, the latter so that I might plumb the wealth of earlier ages. Since an active life offers puzzles as well, I have aided the cause of many a famed explorer and adventurer. Modesty forbids that I name or number them.”

“I can see that it would,” the dragon agreed with a touch of sarcasm in his rumbling voice. “Welcome to the forest, Vartain of Calimport It isn’t often that I’m gifted with such a challenge. You must give me a minute to think, that I might put forth a riddle worthy of your talents.”

“First, great Grimnoshtadrano, permit me to name my own reward,” Vartain added, earning an incredulous stare

from Danilo and Morgalla. “I wish to recover a certain elven artifact, last seen in the village of Taskerleigh.”

The dragon snorted. “You’re too late. I traded it for a song, you might say, and not a particularly successful one at that, considering that you three are the first to respond to it.”

“To whom, if I might ask?”

“One matter at a time, if you please,” Grimnosh returned. “I will give you that information as a reward if you can answer my riddle. Agreed?”

Vartain inclined his head graciously. The dragon tapped at his fang-studded jaw as he reflected, and the metallic click of talon against tooth was a discomfiting sound. Finally, Grimnosh cleared his throat—emitting as he did a small puff of gas redolent of overripe eggs—and gave this puzzle:

°King Khalzol’s kingdom is long gone. Take five steps to the site of his grave: The first means to think over,

The second is over your thoughts. The third means one of something,

The last must be stronger than anything, The whole reveals everything.

“Now tell me, why did King Khalzol’s subjects bury him in a copper coffin?”

Silence hung over the clearing for a long moment nudged the riddlemaster and leaned close to his ear “Because he was dead?” the Harper suggested, sotto voce.

Vartain shot a scathing glance at the young man. “Leave these matters to me,” he hissed in a fierce whisper, and he turned to Lace the dragon.

“This is a classic conundrum, in which a one-word answer is given, piece by piece, in several related riddles,” he announced aloud. “It is an elegant conundrum, to be sure, and unfamiliar to me. Nevertheless, here is its solution:

“What is to mull but to think over? Speaking quite literally, what lies over men’s thoughts but their hair? The word “a’ means one of something, as in “a pomegranate.’ A hold, or fortress, must be stronger than any force brought against it. Put together, one obtains the site of King Khalzol’s grave: Mulharahold, a city to the south of the Mountains of Copper. The copper coffin, of course, is the clue that confirms the conundrum’s answer.” Vartain fell silent, his chin lifted in a expectant pose.

The dragon examined his claws with a satisfied air. “I rather thought you’d say that,” he rumbled.

Vartain reached out to claim the scroll, but the dragon batted the man’s hand away with a flick of his tail. “Humans are always in such a rush,” he purred. ‘The answer to the question ‘Why did his subjects bury King Khalzol in a copper coffin?’ is far simpler that you would make it, and I regret to say that the reason had nothing to do with his grave site. They buried him, dear riddlemaster, because he was dead!”

“He ain’t the only one,” muttered the dwarf.

“But strictly speaking, your puzzle was not a simple riddle,” Vartain protested in an aggrieved tone. “It was a conundrum!”

Morgalla huffed, exasperated. “But it was a conundrum,” she mimicked softly. “That’ll look good on yer headstone, if’n a mason alive can spell it!”

With two claws, the dragon picked up Vartain by the back of his tunic. He examined the dangling riddlemaster thoughtfully, then with the knuckles of his free paw he shined the man’s bald pate as if polishing an apple. The effect was chilling, the intention obvious.

“Wait!” Danilo shouted. He quickly offered Grimnosh the second challenge. “If you fail to answer the riddle I put to you, we go free, with the scroll our only treasure. But if you succeed, I will remain here in your employ for the remainder of my life.”

“Hmm. It would be nice to have a musician on hand,” Grimnoshtadrano mused. He held Vartain out at arm’s length and considered him. The dangling riddlemaster’s pot belly and bowed, skinny legs lent him all the dignity and appeal of a captured frog. “And on the whole, this one looks rather unpalatable.” The dragon dropped Vartain, who disappeared with a grunt into a thick bank of ferns.

“The riddle is in song form,” Danilo began, picking up his lute.

“Really! How droll.” Grimnosh settled down like a watchful cat, propping his massive head up on one forepaw. “Riddle away, by all means.”

Danilo began to play the opening chords to the musical spell Khelben had given him, hoping that it would take effect before the dragon recognized the ploy. Hoping, indeed, that it would work at all! He had practiced the lute accompaniment, learned the melody, and memorized the arcane words, but he had not dared to combine them until this moment

When he sang the first note, a wave of power surged through him and seemed to flow out with the melody. Although Danilo could not say exactly where it came from, the magic felt oddly familiar He had the peculiar feeling that it had always been there in his favorite songs, like a shadow he had glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Exhilaration filled him as he sang and played, and a sense of fulfillment deeper than anything he had every known.

The effect on the dragon was equally profound. His enormous golden eyes grew dreamy and vacant. The long green tail continued to twirl, but the elaborate pattern of movement simplified until just the tip swayed from side to side, moving in time to the music and looking like a languid cobra dancing to the horn of a Calashite snake charmer.

When Danilo thought the dragon safely ensorcelled, he nodded to Morgalla. She eased forward, brown eyes shining with excitement, and tugged the parchment roll out from under the dragon’s elbow.

Too soon! A low rumble came from the dragon’s throat as he struggled to free himself from the charm. Morgalla eased away slowly, and Danilo sang on. For a moment he thought the dragon would subside.

Then the rumpled fern bed rustled wildly, and Vartain poked his head out. The riddlemaster looked dazed, and he swayed like a sapling in a gale. Grimnosh began to stir and twitch, as if shaking off a deep slumber. His tail stopped its rhythmic swaying and started an agitated churning motion.

“Get away, you fools,” snapped Elaith from his hiding place.

Before they could respond, Grimnosh’s eyes focused, and then filled with malevolence. The creature’s armored chest rose; he drew in a deep breath. Vartain placed the blowpipe to his lips and puffed out his cheeks. A tiny canister flew unerringly toward the dragon. It disappeared into the terrible maw just as the dragon opened his mouth to attack

The result was immediate and spectacular. An explosion ripped through the clearing, extinguishing the cookfire and stripping leaves from trees. The force of it tore Danilo’s lute from his arms and sent him tumbling to the ground. He struggled to his feet, unable to hear anything but the painful ringing in his ears When his vision cleared, he saw the stunned dragon lying on his back near the remains of the cookfire. His tongue lolled from his blackened mouth, and the golden-green plates that covered his abdomen gleamed through the dissipating wisps of smoke. Coughing and batting at the foul-scented smoke, the Harper looked around for his companions.

His first thought was for Morgalla; she’d been the closest to the dragon. He needn’t have worried. Morgalla was already up, the scroll gripped triumphantly in one small hand and a broad grin on her face, Legs pumping, she sprinted from the clearing with Elaith and Wyn close on her heels. Balindar moved slower, stumbling a bit and clutching at his ears.

Danilo looked around for Vartain. The riddlemaster had fallen facedown into the ferns, and the bronze dome of his head was barely visible above the battered foliage. The Harper grabbed Bafindar’s arm and pointed to the unconscious riddlemaster. The burly man glanced at Vartain. His lip curled, and he shook his head. Danilo stripped an onyx ring from his hand and held it out to the mercenary, then pointed again. With a grin, Balindar pocketed the ring. He slung Vartain over his shoulder and followed the others.

Danilo was the last to leave the clearing. He snatched up his lute and slid the strap over his shoulder, then glanced at the stunned dragon. Grimnosh’s mighty chest rose and fell in a shallow but regular rhythm. Every instinct warned Danilo to flee at once. The bargain he’d just struck with Balindar raised certain practical considerations, however, so he edged closer to the dragon and snatched up the cask, dropping it into his magic bag. The hoard disappeared without a trace, and he jogged down the path, his lute bobbing lightly on his shoulder as he ran.

Music and Mayhem regrouped nearly a mile away. The three spooked horses had been captured and calmed by the time Dan arrived. Vartain had been revived, thanks to repeated doses from Mange’s flask of rivengut. Morgalla’s face was dusty and bruised from the tumble she’d taken, but the tough little woman seemed otherwise unhurt

Dan shook his head in astonishment and sank down on a large stone beside her. He wrapped an arm around her sturdy shoulders and gave her a quick hug. Thank the Eternal Forge you’re a dwarf,” he murmured, borrowing a term from the mythology of her people.