Chicks - Chicks 'N Chained Males Part 23

"Four," she answered, suspicious of this arithmetical turn in the conversation.

"Four years, four years . . ." he mused, tapping his fingertips together. "Four long, exhausting, years.

Four empty years just waiting to be filled with allsorts of things that can make a young woman-even a young woman of your feminine shortcomings-more than a little eager to become a bride.Anyone's bride, as long as marriage means escape." He leaned forward with a wolfish smile.

Ethelberthina's lip trembled, but in a wobbly voice she still defied him: "I'll run away!"

"I doubt it. You're wise enough to sc.r.a.pe away the rind of romantic folderol from the harsh facts of existence. I needn't tellyou what sort of life you'd lead in the wide world at your tender age with neither money nor skills."

Ethelberthina lowered her eyes and bowed her head over her plate. Her father allowed the full impact of this sudden quiet to settle in securely over his family. When he was satisfied with the depth and immobility of the subservient hush, he announced, "You will finish out the semester-only a week left, no sense in wasting tuition-but when that's done you will return to a young woman's proper occupations. That's all."

With that, he resumed his dinnertime discursion as if the exchange with his daughter had never occurred.

The girl herself ate her dinner a little more slowly and quietly than usual. This added weight of silence on Ethelberthina's part was duly noted and pleased her father no end.

As many an equally thick soul before him, Mayor Eyebright had decided that silence meant surrender.

He did not know his daughter well at all.

To anyone else it was a nasty, huge, stinking, half-eaten corpse ofdraco aquaticus , or the common water-dragon. To Master Porfirio it was a welcome diversion from his own dark thoughts. He had discovered the body quite by accident, as he wandered aimlessly downstream along the riverbank, kicking at clumps of reeds and muttering many curses against the faculty of Overford Academy. No one was more surprised than he when he came eye-to-empty-socket with the deceased monster, despite the fact that the fumes of its dissolution were strong enough to peel the paint from pa.s.sing rivercraft. Like most wizards, Master Porfirio had destroyed his sense of smell over the course of hundreds of alchemical experiments gone awry.

There was nothing wrong with his sense of sight, however. "Sothat's what became of you!" he exclaimed, scrutinizing the sad remains. There was nothing apparently extraordinary about the body. Like others of its kind, the late water-dragon of the Iron River consisted of a disproportionately large, horse-like head attached to a long, sinuous, finned body. It was not an attractive creature, barring the scales which were the s.h.i.+mmery green of summer leaves. Master Porfirio tugged one loose with surprising ease and scrutinized it closely.

"Not even a hint of silvering," he told the corpse. "You were a very young monster. Whatever you died of, it wasn't age."

He tucked the telltale scale into his pocket and ambled along that portion of the body which did not trail off into the river. "Incredible," he said, noting the way in which the soil had been churned up around the creature's corpse. "You beached yourself before you died, and it looks like you were in a lot of pain. But pain fromwhat ? There's the question."

He paced up and down one side of the body, then leaped over the beast's back to check the other. It no longer seemed to matter to him that he was unemployed and as badly beached as the dead dragon, with only a few coins in his purse and no letter of recommendation for a new position. A dedicated scholar, Master Porfirio was easily distracted from his own troubles when confronted with an intriguing mental puzzle such as this.

"Not a mark on you. Nothing except for these old scars the crossing guard gave you, and that was over two years ago. I guess she scared you, too. Gnut knows, she scares everybody. Loud sort of female, I think her daughter Lily studied Advanced Alchemy with old Master Caromar before he died and Dean Thrumble gave his own idiot son the post. Overme . As if that incapable clod could complete evenone experiment without botching it horribly! At leastI know better than to dump my mistakes in the river. I don't care if it did get me fired, I'mglad I took a stand against him at the faculty meeting! Someone had to."

The burden of bitterness on his soul elbowed out Master Porfirio's scholastic interest in deducing the water-dragon's doom. Taken up by his own words, he leaned against the creature's flank and relieved his spirit to an audience of one, and that one dead. "I suppose that when that moron graduates to blowing up parts of the school, someone elsemight object to his inept antics, but I doubt it. Not with my fate such a fresh example of the price one pays for truth-telling. Bah!"

In his wrath, Master Porifirio brought his fist down hard on the water-dragon's back. To his shock, the scales crumbled on impact and his hand sank up to the wrist in deliquescing flesh. Uttering an exclamation of disgust, he shook off most of the goo and hastened to wash the rest away in the river.

"How very odd," he murmured as he knelt by the water, scubbing his hand. "Dragon scales are the hardest substance known, resistant to all save the keenest blades, and then only when wielded by expert hands. Perhaps they turn brittle when the beast dies? Hmm, no, if that were so, there wouldn't be a waiting list seven leagues long of king's guardsmen ready to pay top price for dragon-scale armor, to say nothing of the ban on selling it to-ouch!"

The disemployed mage yanked his hand out of the river and stared at it. The skin, once the pasty hue favored by pedagogues everywhere, now looked as dark as if its owner had soaked it in walnut juice. It had also developed a number of ugly boils of a size not seen this side of a troll's rump. His other hand, however, retained its original aspect. His glance darted from one to the other with a growing expression of bafflement and dismay.

Master Porfirio was no slowcoach. On the great chalkboard of his brain an alarmingly simple equationwas rapidly being posted and solved. He looked from his hands to the dead water-dragon to the water, then upriver, to where the thatched roofs of Overford Academy and its attendant town bided in unsuspecting peace.

"Oh dear," he said. "I suppose I should go back and inform the authorities. I'm sure they'll do the right thing."

Ethelberthina Eyebright was on her way to school when she happened across the battered body of her former alchemy teacher in the alley behind the Crusty Boar. "Goodness," she told the corpse. "When Dean Thrumble terminates someone, he doesn't fool around."

She was about to continue on her way when the corpse groaned and rolled over, sending a pair of honeymooning rats scurrying off. "Master Porfirio?" Ethelberthina knelt and gently touched his shoulder.

"It's me; I wish it weren't." The banged-up wizard pulled himself to a sitting position against the alley wall. "Is that you, Ethelberthina? Hard to see after one has been punched in both eyes more than necessary."

"Yes, sir," the girl replied dutifully. "What happened? I thought you'd left town."

"I almost left existence." Slowly and painfully he got to his feet, groaned, stretched his battered bones, then asked, "Child, do you love your father?"

Ethelberthina was taken aback by this unexpected question. "I-I suppose I do. I don'tlike him very much at the moment, though. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just the pa.s.sing hope that I might prevail upon you to slip a little powdered toadstool into the old pus-bag's supper some fine day, as a favor to me."

"Myfather did this to you?" Being bright, she quickly amended her question to: "I mean, he was the one who ordered it done?"

The wizard's face looked like a ravaged berrypatch, purple and blue and crimson with a medley of bruises, cuts, and abrasions, yet he still managed to force his pummeled features into a sarcastic expression. "Just his little way of letting me know that so long as the town of Overford continues to collect taxes from and sell supplies to Overford Academy-to say nothing of how many locals the place employs-his official policy towards all school-related complaints will be one of proactive disinvolvement."

Ethelberthina gave him a hard look, "D'you meansHandsOff ?" she asked.

"Hands Offthe school and all who sail in her,Hands On anyone with a grievance against them."

"It seems like an awfully extreme reaction, even for Dad, having you toughed up just for complaining about your dismissal."

"That was not the substance of my complaint," Master Porfirio said primly. (A bittoo primly; pursing his lips made him wince with pain and resume a less haughty expression.) "Ah well, never mind. Your father would not heed me. His punishment will be upon his own head." "You're not going to hurl a vast and awesome spell of destruction against Dad, are you?" Her question was more by way of detached scientific inquiry than filial protestation. Although she did love her father-perhaps sincerely, perhaps out of inertia-she was still deeply hurt by his decision to remove her from Overford Academy.

"Who, me? Mercy, no; I'm just a member of the junior faculty-wasa member of the junior faculty. We can do you some really impressive illusions, but initiating vast and awesome spells of destruction requires tenure." He shook his head. "Your father's punishment shall be no more than the natural result of his do-nothing att.i.tude. A pity that so many innocent souls will likewise suffer. Were you not a mere slip of a girl-child, I would encourage you to leave town while yet you may. However, since you are still too young and female to take any effective steps towards self-preservation, I can only advise you to be a comfort to your poor mother and say your prayers diligently until inevitable eradication finds you. Good day."

With that, Master Porfirio attempted to depart the alley. He almost made it. What stopped him was an unexpected yank at the back of his robe which half throttled him, pulled him off balance, and made him sit down hard on the garbage-slicked cobbles. No sooner did he hit the pavement than Ethelberthina stood before him wearing an innocent smile that was anything but.

"I beg your pardon, dear Master Porfirio, but would you mind one last question from an unworthy girl-child?" she asked sweetly.

The wizard glared at her. "You yanked my robe! Howdare you lay hands upon me?"

"Me, sir? When I'm only fit for making prayers and pastry?" Her childish simper hardened into a disturbingly adult sneer as she added, "Andpredictions. And I predict that you'll get no peace until you tell me what's going on. I refuse to wait docilely in ignorance for some unknown doom to land on my head.

I'll see you and Dad both sewn up in a sack and pitched into the Iron River first!"

Master Porfirio stood up a second time, keeping a newly respectful eye on Ethelberthina. "Well," he said, "if you've any sort of grudge against your father, tossing him into the river will afford you the sort of all-in vengeance that is at once convenient, efficient, and grisly."

"I doubt that." Ethelberthina crossed her arms. "Dad knows how to swim."

"I admire your practical nature. Yet ere long, surviving immersion in the Iron River will require more than keeping one's head above water." He held out his transformed hand for her inspection and told her how the repulsive changes in it had come to pa.s.s. "The water itself's bad enough-killed a whole dragon, after all-but now there's more and more of the beast's poisoned innards leaking into the river every instant, to say nothing of the fresh muck Junior Thrumble's adding to it daily."

"You mean young Master Thrumble?" Ethelberthina asked. "Is he reallythat evil?"

"Not at all," said Master Porfirio. "But then, he needn't be. The efforts of one dedicated bungler can outdo the evils of a hundred archvillains without breaking a sweat. So far he's only killed a dragon."

The girl s.h.i.+vered. "Something must be done."

"I tried. You saw where it got me. Too bad; I rather liked this town, but what with Dean Thrumble's purblind att.i.tude towards his son's blunders and your own father's refusal to wake up and smell the deadwater-dragon, it will take a better man than I to save the place."

"Oh?" Ethelberthina grew thoughtful. "In that case, I know just the person." And she told the wizard a name.

Master Porfirio frowned. "Isthat your idea of a better man than I?" he asked. She nodded happily.

"Ethelberthina, has anyone ever told you that you're a veryexceptional girl?"

"Often. Usually I can't sit down afterwards."

"Can't sit . . . ?"

"Oh, never mind. Now, shall we save Overford?"

"What's all this?" Garth demanded. It wasn't every day he came home to find his wife entertaining a strange wizard and the mayor's youngest daughter.

"A G.o.dsend," Zoli replied. "These good people have finally offered me somethinginteresting to do. It's a dark plot involving corruption in high places; more than usual, that is. If you stay, you help us; if you don't want to get involved, clear out."

Garth made no move to go. Instead he stood by the door, giving his wife's guests the mother of all hard stares. Finally he pointed at Ethelberthina and blurted: "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Not according to my father," she responded calmly. "He thinks it's a waste of time, educating females."

"What?" Garth's face went red with indignation. "A waste, is it? Our Lily graduated from Overford Academy and went on to become Duke Janifer's senior resident alchemist! She earnstwice your father's pay, bribes included. You tell your daddythat ."

"I believe he already knows," said Master Porfirio. "Why do you think he hates educated women so much? He doesn't want to face the embarra.s.sment of any more Lilys."

Garth hoisted a chair and slammed it down backwards at the table, straddling it like a horse. "Whatever this is about, count me in."

"Good," said Zoli. "We'll be needing a babysitter."

In the Swordsisters' Union Hall at East Prandle, Pojandra Foeslayer glanced from her caller to the papers on her desk and said, "A favor? Favors for union sisters only. Your members.h.i.+p lapsed ages ago.

Can't say whether you still meet our qualifications."

"b.u.g.g.e.r 'em," said Zoli, sitting on the desk. "I don't want to re-up. Why feed dues into an organization that no longer meets my professional needs as a mercenary guard?"

"'Mercenary guard?'" Pojandra echoed sarcastically. "School crossingguard. Everyone knows it!" "That's still guard duty, and I still get paid," Zoli replied.

"So do we," Pojandra snapped. "Go 'round to Customer Service, put in a work order, pay up like everyone else."

"Impossible," Zoli said. "I can't afford to hire as many of you as I need."

"If you can't afford to pay for us-" Pojandra stopped short, her words cut off by the point of Zoli's dagger as it tickled the underside of her chin.

"Tsk," the former Swordsister remarked. "And you with ayoung woman's reflexes. Tell you what, love:I promise not to tell your captain about how an old relic like me got the drop on you, andyou tell her why it's a good thing to loan me the services of ten Third Rank warriors."

"T-ten?" Pojandra swallowed hard. "But-but minimum wage for Third Rankers is-It'd mean tapping the warchest. We can't afford to-!"

Zoli brought her face very close to Pojandra's and smiled. "As long as East Prandle's downriver from Overford, you can't affordnot to."

The water-dragon attacked the toll bridge at midmorning on Market Day, when traffic was heaviest. The beast reared out of the river with a mighty roar, sending the crowd into a blind panic. Draft animals snorted and stampeded, pulling their wagons after them w.i.l.l.y-nilly, blocking both lanes of the bridge and preventing an orderly evacuation. Farmers and merchants abandoned their wares and scrambled over the blockading carts, but fat times made for fat men and few of them could haul their bulky bodies over a kitchen table, let alone an oxcart. They collapsed in despair against one another, yammering for rescue.

To its credit, the town patrol came running up to the bridge as soon as word reached them, but one look at the rampaging water-dragon petrified them in every limb. (Later, in the Crusty Boar, they spoke of this as "a.s.sessing the situation." Their drinking buddies amended it to "close-order wetting yourselves.") "Isthat our old water-dragon?" one of their number gasped. "It looks bigger than I recall."

"Can't be our old 'un," said his comrade. "I heard as ours died."

"Died, hey?" a third remarked. "Don't look dead to me. You ever see the body?"

"No, but a friend of my wife's brother-in-law's cousin told us that-"

"Maybe it did die, and that's why it's bigger," said the first man. "Dead things swell up bad, in the warm weather."

"That accounts for the size, but what about all that thras.h.i.+ng about and roaring?" his companion countered.

"Rigor Morris."

Their discussion was polite but impractical. For his part, Mayor Eyebright would have preferred less debate and more decapitation. His position in the crisis was most unenviable, for at the instant of theattack he was smack dab in the middle of the bridge, manning the toll station. Banning all wet-wheeled vehicles from Overford Market (thus forcing all commercial traffic to use the bridge) had been his idea.

For this lucrative inspiration, he got the right to man the booth one Market Day per month, plus the town council's promise to take his word about that day's receipts. Mayor Eyebright would sooner miss his father's funeral (and had) than his a.s.signed stint at the toll booth.

This day, he found himself actively wis.h.i.+ng to be anywhere else. The water-dragon loomed over the bridge, mouth gaping wide, fangs dripping. Mayor Eyebright knew that he was going to die, a fact which he resented deeply. Rancor swallowed terror and he came storming out of the toll booth, shaking his fist and shouting, "Unnatural monster! You're supposed to bedead! "

"I am," the water-dragon answered.

Mayor Eyebright dropped his upraised fist to his chest and staggered backward. "That's my Ethelberthina's voice!" he exclaimed.

"Yum," the dragon agreed.

"How dare you devourmy daughter?"

The water-dragon shook with laughter that sounded decidedly nonreptilian. "She was too delicious to pa.s.s up. As were the other children."

"Other-?" The mayor's jowls looked like slabs of calf's-foot jelly.

"Every last one of 'em as they were on their way to school."

"How's that?" A fat merchant came waddling up to the mayor and poked him in the chest, dragon or no dragon. "All the toll revenue you Overforders gouge from us and you can't spare your own kids the hire of a crossing guard?"

"Wedo have a crossing guard," Mayor Eyebright sniped back. "Whereis she? I'll have her salary for this!"

"You won't have much, then," the resurrected water-dragon chuckled.

Just then there came a thunderous cry of "Halt!" as a cloud of purple smoke erupted from one of the decorative pillars flanking the townward side of the bridge. The people's eyes turned towards the sound.

Looking more than a little fetching for a woman of her age, Zoli of the Brazen s.h.i.+eld stood balanced atop the pillar, s.h.i.+ning sword in hand. With this blade, the crossing guard now pointed at the school side of the Iron River and intoned, "Behold where he comes, the true source of our grief! And his old man." A great roar of astonishment went up from the crowd as they saw two fully robed wizards being hauled bodily down to the riverbank by a hostile knot of armored swordswomen.

"This is unspeakable! An outrage!" Dean Thrumble bellowed as he and his son were chivvied along.