Dragon Business, The (24 page)

A
GAIN, DALBRY HELD
his handful of straws—three long, one short.

When it was his turn, brave Sir Artimo casually drew the short straw and looked at its length. He tossed the straw over his shoulder in a flippant gesture. “Ah! Exactly as I planned.”

Artimo straightened his bright yellow tunic and looked around for his stylish armor. “This is the perfect part of the quest, the sweet spot. The dragon has been tested by two great warriors, so therefore it will be sorely bruised and weary, yet not entirely beaten down. What would be the honor in slaying a beast that posed no challenge? Ha!”

He swished his thin sword and looked at Sir Jems, trying to change the sour knight’s disposition through force of will, but it didn’t work. He gave a formal nod to Sirs Tremayne and Dalbry before flashing a final smile toward Cullin. “Cook me a fat squirrel, lad—I’ll be back in time for breakfast.”

Artimo flounced out of the camp, extending his long thin sword as if one of the trees might attack him. The blade wobbled most unthreateningly, but he went off to his destiny, head held high.

Cullin caught a squirrel, skinned it, and cooked it in the stewpot. They waited past breakfast. Then lunch. At dinnertime, the three surviving knights and the squire ate a fine meal of overcooked squirrel stew.

Dalbry used fresh straws each time. He trimmed and clipped three stalks of grass, snipped one in half, and held out his palm for Jems and Tremayne to see.

“Properly done, according to code,” said Tremayne. “The hand of fate will guide us in our choice.”

Jems said, “I’d like to have another look at that Manual. Didn’t you say your father was just a knightophile, not even a real knight? Why should we feel bound by what some fan wrote in a made-up rule book?”

Tremayne recoiled, taking offense. “A fan? My father was the world’s authority on the subject. He didn’t make up the rules, merely codified them.”

“We know the way it’s done,” Dalbry said. “Already established.” He closed his hand, evened the straws, and extended the choice to Tremayne first. The shining knight drew a long straw, as he had three times before.

Sir Jems scowled at the choices left to him—one long straw, one short. “How do I know you’re not cheating?” He seemed to be stalling rather than accusing.

“How could I cheat?” Dalbry’s extended hand remained steady. “You’re the one who makes the choice.”

Tremayne, already safe, grew stormy with anger. “Sir Jems, you do Sir Dalbry a grave disservice by questioning his honor. His heart is pure, his faith and loyalty unshakable. He would never speak a falsehood and would never cheat another man.”

Dalbry didn’t flinch or flush upon hearing the statement. “Would
you
like to hold the straws, Sir Jems?”

“Yes . . . no.”

Cullin blurted out, “
I’ll
hold them. No one would ever accuse me of cheating, right?”

For some unknown reason, Jems found that to be an acceptable solution. Cullin took the two remaining straws, mixed them up, hid them, and extended his hand. “Which of you picks first?”

“I will,” said Jems. “I won’t let Dalbry leave me with the short straw.” He reached forward and plucked the short straw all by himself. “Figures.” He exhaled a put-upon sigh. “I suppose it’s better than spending another night in this godforsaken camp.”

“You’re such a cheerful person, Sir Jems,” Dalbry pointed out.

“I keep an open mind. If you look hard enough, you can always find something to complain about. Now I’m going to give that dragon something to complain about.”

Without waiting for a farewell or encouragement from his dwindling number of companions, brave Sir Jems set out to confront the monster.

The only thing he gave the dragon to complain about was indigestion.

Reeger had been gone for a long time with the shopping list Affonyl gave him. While she waited for him to return, Affonyl sorted through the packets of chemicals from her sack of necessary items and flipped through Wizard Edgar’s alchemy textbooks to make sure she hadn’t forgotten any ingredients. If she had to send Reeger back into town, he would not be cheerful.

Finally, late in the afternoon, the mule plodded back through the forest, led by Reeger. “Bloodrust, what do you need all these supplies for? I didn’t realize purified guano with a high saltpeter content was so hard to find—or so rustin’ expensive. I had to go to three different shoppes.” He shook his head, unloading the packs from the mule’s saddle. “And empty casks, bits of rope, charcoal. I spent two days at the mall, and I don’t even like shopping.”

Affonyl helped him sort the supplies. “It’s what we need. I’ve used the recipe before.” She inspected the stout, empty casks and opened the waterproof sack of powdered saltpeter, wincing at the pungent whiff of ammonia.

Reeger continued to grumble. “And why do they charge so much for powdered charcoal! They should be happy I took some of it off their hands.”

“Looks like you got plenty of it
on
your hands,” she said. Reeger looked at his black-dusted fingers, then wiped his face, which distributed the black stain more evenly.

She pulled out the smaller packets of esoteric chemicals, checking them off on her mental list. Reeger watched, still skeptical, but she said, “Any time now, Cullin or Dalbry will be forced to face that dragon. We have to put a stop to this nonsense.” She started pouring powders from the chemical pouches, then removed other packets from her sack of necessary items. She inspected the labels, doled out proper amounts.

Reeger picked at his teeth. “It looks complicated.”

Affonyl poured her completed mixture into one of the empty casks. She had already cut the narrow rope into fuse-length segments. “If it was easy, everybody would be blowing things up—and then the land would be in a sorry state.” She sealed the first cask after inserting the fuse. “Make sure this doesn’t get close to the fire, or you’ll be sorry.”

“Rust! I wouldn’t want it to get close to the
dragon
—not until we’re ready.”

Affonyl agreed, hoping they would be finished before Dalbry drew the short straw. She filled another cask with her explosive mixture.

That night Cullin lay awake, feeling the oppressive gloom closing in. The dragon business had once been a lucrative and exciting scam—good, clean fun, with many satisfied customers—since the kings believed the dragons were slain, what was there to be unhappy about? Each one even had a stuffed crocodile head as a trophy for their throne room walls. Cullin knew there weren’t supposed to be real dragons . . . and even if there
were,
brave knights were supposed to defeat them, not be digested by them.

He heard a rustle of underbrush as Affonyl crept to the camp. Cullin crawled away from the two slumbering knights so he and the former princess could talk in hushed tones. “Time to change tactics, Squirrel. You don’t have many dragon slayers left.”

“I know. This plan of ‘dragon slaying by attrition’ isn’t working well for us. I think the Knight’s Manual needs to be rewritten.” Cullin felt dismayed. “Dalbry’s digging in his heels, insisting on honor. He intends to finish this, regardless.”

“Stall if you can. Reeger and I are working on a way to kill the dragon that isn’t so sword-dependent.” Affonyl started to leave, then turned back. “It’s almost ready. I miss you back at our camp. If Sir Dalbry wins the hand of Princess Minima, then you and I can go off on adventures of our own.”

Afterward, Cullin was even less inclined to sleep, but his dreams were filled with much more pleasant fantasies. . .  .

The following morning, as Sir Dalbry prepared two fresh straws for himself and Tremayne, Cullin tended to the fine mounts that had belonged to Hernon, Morgan, Artimo, and Jems, along with Drizzle and Pony. “There was a time when I wished we had even one horse,” Cullin said sadly. “Now we have four spares.”

Sir Tremayne said, “When a knight falls in battle, his worldly goods go to his comrades. As we formed our consortium of dragon-slaying knights, the Articles of Incorporation specified an equal division of spoils among the survivors.”

“But I was never part of your original consortium,” Dalbry pointed out.

Tremayne was unconcerned. “We added you in a legally binding addendum, which was ratified by all original members.”

Dalbry sat down on a stump and looked at the two straws in his hand. “I’m less concerned about worldly goods than about slaying the dragon. No reason to procrastinate—let’s get on with it.” He handed the two straws to Cullin. “Squire, if you would do the honors.”

Cullin closed the straws in his fist so that only the tips poked out from his knuckles. He gave Dalbry first choice, and the older knight plucked the long straw. Apologetically, Cullin opened his hand and extended the short straw to the other knight. “It’s your turn to promulgate the mystique, Sir Tremayne.”

The shining knight looked like honor incarnate in his thin, flexible armor. The prospect of facing the dragon seemed to fill him with stoic energy.

Dalbry, though, was troubled. He looked at the obsidian chips in his sword hilt. “Maybe we should learn from what has transpired before. Attacking this dragon one knight at a time has been ineffective. Let us act together as partners and kill the monster. I’ll even let you have the princess.”

Tremayne’s face was unreadable. “I’m afraid not, Sir Dalbry. That isn’t how it’s done—there’s a princess at stake, not just a treasure, and I’m trying to save lives. I intend to do the honorable thing. I’ve been waiting for this all my life, and my father would be so proud. I won’t let you diminish my victory.”

“Or your martyrdom,” Cullin muttered. “Would it be so bad to split the glory if it means that both of you can survive?”

“And go against the Knight’s Manual? Never!”

“He’s right, lad. We can’t change now,” Dalbry agreed. “This is the way it’s done.”

Tremayne adjusted his white-and-indigo cape and used a corner of the fabric to brush an imagined smudge from his gleaming breastplate. A flicker of apprehension crossed his face, and he looked long and hard at Dalbry and his apprentice dragon slayer. “I’ve heard accounts about killing these monsters, but I don’t know how reliable they are. You’ve faced and killed numerous dragons already—I’d appreciate any advice you might have.”