The Pixilated Peeress (21 page)

             
"That's your ten thousand marks," said Thorolf. "Know you Doctor Berthar, who di
rects the Zoological Parkin Zurshnitt?"

             
"Aye, he was here some years agone, seeking a rare butterfly, which meseems a strange thing for a grown man, even a crazy lowlander, to do. I mislike dealing with those gentry, because they once shut some of us in
cages with their beasts. That was an insult!"

             
"Like it or not," said Thorolf, "he has the money wherewith to buy one healthy female dragon, hoping to mate her with their male. All you need do is to send a brace of trusty trolls to Zurshnitt with a messag
e. Let Berthar send out a gang of workmen with a wagon, to meet your trolls with the dragon halfway and hand over the money."

             
"I like this not," growled Wok. "If I know you low
landers, the instant my people cross into the lands the Zurshnitters stole fr
om us, they are liable to a bolt in the brisket. I alone speak enough Rhaetian to deal with these folk, but I must needs remain here. Ye could ac
company the dragon
—
but nay, nought would hinder you from escaping our grasp, taking the money with you."

             
"I'
ll write to Berthar," said Thorolf, digging into his scrip. He brought out a pad of paper, a battered quill, and a stoppered ink bottle.

             
"I still like it not, but money is money." Wok gave Thorolf a sinister smile. "Our agreement was that ye should slay
the beast, not take it alive. The dragon's
flesh would have fed the tribe for many days. Since that be not now in prospect, why should we not eat you?"

             
"Your pardon, O Chief," said Thorolf, "but if you recall the exact terms, I promised to 'get rid of th
e dragon. Nought was said of how, whether by slaying or capture or merely driving it away from your lands. Be
sides, I could scarcely write to Doctor Berthar if I were dismembered and cooking, now could I?"

             
Wok grumbled: "Slippery, scheming lowlander! Ve
ry well, write your letter. But ye shall remain with us until the money be delivered."

             
Thorolf, pen in hand, paused. "Since, O Chief, you have cast doubt upon mine own prospects, in return for the letter I ask that we enter into another pair of oaths, th
at I shall not be slain whatever betide. As for remain
ing here, I hope to do so for some little time. I will do my share of tribal labors."

             
"Eh?" said Wok. "What lets you from returning to Zurshnitt?"

             
"Certain enemies have made that city unhealthy for
me.

             
"Ah!" said Wok. "Ye are a wanted man, then! Had I known sooner, I might have sold you back to those foes whereof ye speak."

             
"You would not have obtained any ten thousand marks for my carcass. And now for the oaths
...
"

-

             
For the next fortnight, Tho
rolf Zigramson dwelt in the village of the Sharmatt trolls and took part in their simple toils and pleasures. Since he proved handy with tools, they set him the task of whittling arrow shafts and
attaching feathers and iron heads. In his spare time he whetted his weapons, prac
ticed shooting his crossbow and throwing his dagger, and washed his dirty linens and hose in the creek that served the settlement.

             
The trolls who had been sent with the ca
ptive dragon returned. Two bore a stout pole between them. From the pole hung a leathern sack, the weight of which made the pole sag. Evening found Chief Wok and Thorolf squatting by a fire and painstakingly counting out ten-mark gold pieces. The Chief ha
d
drafted Thorolf to keep a tally with little sticks, each representing ten coins.

             
When the count was over and a hundred sticks re
posed in little piles, Wok said: "I am still not certain. This time ye shall count coins whilst I pile the sticks."

             
Thorol
f counted. Although he had taken pains to count accurately, he only tallied 998 coins.

             
"Try again." growled Wok, taking over the coins. This time there was one coin left over when a hundred sticks had been piled.

             
Wok gave an angry roar. "These cursed t
hings must be bewitched!"

             
"Wilt try once more?" Thorolf asked.

             
"Oh, to the spirit world with the futtering things! It is close enough. Thorolf. since ye have fulfilled your agreement, it is but fair that we should enlarge you. Whither go ye next?"

             
"F
or the time being," said Thorolf, "I should be happy to remain with the tribe, provided I may move about at will."

             
"Good!" roared Wok, smiting Thorolf on the back with numbing force. "Meanst to stay for ay and per
chance take a mate from amongst us?"

             
The thought of a troll wife appalled Thorolf. He had gotten used to trolls but still found the females mon
strously ugly. Still, in his present strait he dared not say so. Tactfully he replied:

             
"That were a great honor, Chief Wok. But I should have to th
ink about it, since I already have mine eye upon a lowland female."

             
"Fetch her hither and mate with both!" said Wok. "Or better yet, keep one wife here and another in Zurshnitt. In such a case, it were better not to tell either of the other." He winked.
"We'll talk of this anon. Meanwhile, hast ever hunted?"

             
"Aye, with my father."

             
Wok shot a sharp glance. "Who is your father?"

             
"I told you, Zigram Thorolfson, who as senator in
troduced that bill to make trolls human beings. As you know, he is now Con
sul of the Rhaetian Republic."

             
Wok's jaw dropped.
"I
disbelieved you when ye said so before; but now we know you for a true man. Now that we truly know ye have this kinship, ye must assured
ly mate with one of our tribes women, to bind you to us and give
us influence with your government. I will find a nice girl. Meanwhile, ye should sharpen your skill at the hunt." Wok raised his voice to a bellow: "Oh, Gak!"

             
Wok's eldest son strolled near. "Aye. Father?"

             
Wok said: "Thorolf true man; lowlander outsid
e, troll inside. Take hunt tomorrow." The Chief turned back to Thorolf. "This is worth getting drunk over. Gak, two beer!"

             
Soon Gak returned with two mugs of crude trollish pottery, filled with barley beer. Thorolf disliked the trollish beverage. The bre
w was not only weak but also so full of barley grains that it was best drunk through a straw. But there was no decent way to avoid it now.

             
Wok, less fastidious, drank his beer in great gulps, straining the grains out with his teeth and spitting them on t
he ground. Thorolf looked across the amphitheater to where several trolls were firing up the smelter. Other trolls ignited simple torches, made by dipping cattails in goat grease, before they disappeared into a nearby cave mouth. Thorolf felt the stirring
of an idea. He asked:

             
"Oh Chief, whither goes the tunnel from yonder cave?"

             
"To bed of iron ore." said Wok with a hiccup. '
4
Would st like to see how we mine it?"

             
Thorolf suppressed a shudder, saying vaguely: "Some day, mayhap." He did not wish to
admit that he had an irrational fear of dark, narrow places, ever since as a boy he had been accidentally locked in a clothes chest. He went on:

             
"Is that all? Does a branch extend to Zurshnitt?"

             
"Nay, nay. What made you think of such a thing?" Wok's g
aze shifted furtively. Thorolf had been with trolls long enough to read their expressions.

             
"We have legends," said Thorolf, "of trollish tun
nels extending all over Rhaetia, even beneath the streets of our cities. Betimes politicians warn us that the tro
lls might burst out of their tunnels and massacre folk in their beds."

             
Wok finished his mug. "What stupid idea!" His Rhaetian deteriorated as the beer took effect. "Certes, we have tunnels, but not hence to Zurshnitt. Would be several days' walk, and who
could bear enough food, water, and torches to last the distance? Besides, air bad."

             
"But you do have a tunnel under Zurshnitt?"

             
"Oh, yea; but ye enter it not here. Entrance less than hour from city
—
" Wok clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh. sacred ance
stors! 1 told you one of our deepest secrets. Too much beer. How knew ye of it?"

             
"You told me you had heard a session of the Senate, and I remembered the trollish tunnels."

             
"Lowlanders too damned clever. Is terrible sad."

             
"What is sad? I'll never tel
l
—
"

             
Wok began to weep. "Dare not let you go. Must eat you now." He dropped into Trollish. "You friend. Eat friend bad. No eat friend bad. No take chance."

             
"Be not a ninny!" cried Thorolf, disguising the fear he felt. "I'm practically a member of the tr
ibe, so why-should I harm you?"

             
Wok caught Thorolf's hand, a pleading expression on his brutish face. "You be real troll? Mate with troll girl? Good! Me get you nice girl. Oh. Gak!" he shouted.

             
"Aye, Father?" The young troll came on the run.

             
"You kno
w Bza, Fid daughter?"

             
"Yea."

             
"Fetch. Her Thorolf mate."

             
The horrified Thorolf dared not protest for fear of the stewpot. The youth returned with a young female, even shorter and more barrel-shaped than most trollish women. Wok roared: "Bza, you good
girl, fit Thorolf mate. Him lowlander outside but troll inside. Him good man. You be good mate. Me say you, him mate. For night, me give own tent. Take. Thorolf. Have fun all night and many cubs!"

             
Wok rose to his feet, slapped Thorolf's back, lost his ba
lance, and stretched his length on the turf. Gak bent over him, saying:

             
"You well, Father?"

             
The only response was a thunderous snore. Gak looked at Thorolf. whose gaze shifted from Wok to Gak to Bza. At last Gak said:

             
"Father lend tent. Come!"