The Practice Effect (31 page)

“Leave it alone,” Dennis told him. He went over and cut the tethers, setting the creature free. Arth stared in surprise.

“Get in, Arth, there in back,” Dennis told him. “From here on, we
all
ride.”

The commander of the Blue Griffin company of the Zuslik garrison puffed alongside his troops. An ache tore at his side, where his laboring lungs complained in agony. The commander clamped down hard. He was determined not to be left behind by his men, most of whom were young volunteers from noble families, few over the age of twenty.

At age thirty-two, he knew he was getting too old for this. Perhaps, he thought as he wiped away the sweat clouding his eyes, perhaps he should arrange a transfer to the cavalry.

He spared a moment to glance at his men. Their faces were strained and sweaty, too. At least a dozen of his two score had fallen out already and were lying, gasping, by the side of the road all the way down the mountain.

The commander allowed himself a faint smile even as he fought for every new breath of thin air.

Maybe he would put off that transfer for a little while yet.

The minutes of agony seemed to crawl by. Then, at last, the pass crested under them. His feet felt feather-light as the slope flattened. He almost collided with the man ahead of him, who slowed down and pointed.

“There …! Just … ahead …!”

The commander felt jubilant. Baron Kremer would be generous to the one who reclaimed the foreign wizard and the L’Toff Princess. His reputation would be made!

At the summit a clump of his soldiers, hands on their knees, were breathing raggedly and staring downhill. The commander, too, stopped there and blinked in surprise when he came into view of the southern slope.

Only a few yards away a little donkey grazed contentedly, leather straps hanging loosely from its harness.

Down the road, only a hundred yards or so, three people sat closely together inside a little
box
. He could tell at once that they were the fugitives he was after. They appeared to be just
sitting
there, helplessly waiting to be captured!

Then the commander noticed that the box was moving! No animal was pulling it, yet it moved!

How …?

He realized suddenly it had to be the wizard’s work. “After them!” He tried to shout but managed only a croak. “Up! Get up and after them!”

About half of his men got raggedly to their feet and staggered after him down the road.

But the little box was only speeding up. The commander saw the smallest fugitive—the little thief he had heard was instrumental in the escape from the castle—glance backward and flash them a sudden, malicious grin.

The box swung swiftly around a bend and out of sight.

“Watch out for that turn!”

“I
am
watching out for the damned turn! You just pay attention to the brakes!”

“Breaks? The cart’s
broken
? Where!”

“No!
Brakes
! Those two sticks … When we’re coming near a turn … twist those sticks so they rub against the rear wheels!”

“Dennis, I seem to remember a very tight turn just ahead—”

“What did you say, Linnora? Where? Oh, no! Hold on!”

“Dennizz!”

“Dennis!”

“Lean hard! No! The other way! Princess, I can’t see! Get your hands off of my eyes!”

With a shuddering hum that vibrated their very bones, the cart squealed around the hairpin, then shuddered and swept on down the sloping highway. Rough scrub bushes and scraggly trees whizzed by them.

“Hooeee! Izzit over yet? Can I leggo these broken stick things? I don’t feel so good.…”

“How about you, Linnora? Are you all right?”

“I think so, Dennis. But did you see how close we came to that precipice?”

“Uh, fortunately no. Look, will you check on Arth, please? I think he fainted.”

The road ran straight for a little while. Dennis managed to get the cart running stably.

“Umm … Arth is coming around now, Dennis, though I think he looks a little green.”

“Well, slap him awake if you have to! We’re starting to speed up again, and I want him riding those brakes. You’d better help him by
practicing
them as well as you can!”

“I’ll try, Dennis.”

Dennis fought the bucking cart around the mountainside. Just in time, he felt Arth back on the brakes. The little thief was cursing foully, indicating a return to health.

“Thanks, your Highness,” Dennis sighed.

“You’re welcome, Dennis. But I ought to tell you … I think there is another switchback just ahead.”

“Wonderful! Is it as bad as that last one?”

“Umm, worse, I think.”

“Oh, lord, you’re right!
Hold on
!”

When the downgrade finally ended they nevertheless coasted several hundred yards, and even climbed a little way up the opposite slope. By now the wagon’s bearings were practiced to almost frictionlessness—a small blessing during that downhill careen.

They finally rolled to a stop in the middle of a narrow mountain vale—a summer pasturage. An abandoned shepherd’s shack stood not far from the roadside. Momentum carried the little cart to within a few meters of its door.

Arth set the brakes securely, to lock the cart in place. Then he leaped out and fell to the ground, laughing.

Linnora followed, a little less nimble but just as delirious. She, too, collapsed to the lush grass, holding her sides as her bell-like laughter rolled. Tears streamed from her eyes.

Dennis sat at the front of the cart, quivering, his hands still wrapped in the biting thongs with which he had steered for
ten or twenty of the most terrifying miles of his life. He cast a withering sidelong glance at Arth and Linnora. Though they were his friends and comrades, it was just as well he didn’t have the energy or balance to get up, walk over to where they lay, and
strangle
them right there!

Like children, they whooped it up, making zooming motions with their hands. They had been like that ever since those first terrifying moments on the downslope. Once they realized that the “wizard” had done it again, it never even occurred to them to be frightened.

Their joyful shrieks had almost made him lose control a half-dozen times, nearly sending them over razor-edged cliffs!

Slowly, carefully, Dennis unwrapped the steering thongs. Returning circulation brought on a wave of intense pain. The “cart sickness” that had almost overwhelmed him during the wild ride came back. He stood up unsteadily, and stepped carefully out of the crazy little contraption, holding onto its side.

“Oh, Dennis.” Linnora limped over to grab his arm. She had barely stopped laughing. “Oh, my Lord Wizard, you made such fools of them. And we flew faster than the very wind! You are wonderful!”

Dennis looked into her gray eyes, seeing in them the love and admiration he had often longed to find there—and came suddenly to realize that there were priorities that came before even a dream come true.

“Uh.” He gulped and swayed. “Hold that thought.”

He pulled away from her then, and stumbled quickly over behind a clump of bushes to become very sick.

It was an evening demonstration, performed by moonlight and the flickering luminence of a hundred bright torches. The noble observers watched with growing nervousness as preparations were made. Rank upon rank of troops filed into place in the parade yard. Then the rumbling drums fell silent.

There was a long pause, then the sudden quiet was split by a loud, terrifying sound. The crashing explosion was followed by another silence as the guests stared in stunned amazement at what had happened. Then a thousand men let out a single, bloodthirsty roar of approval.

Sergeant Gil’m turned and marched smartly back toward the dais. Out on the parade ground, at the end of the execution aisle, there was a new hole in the outer wall. A bloody stump stood where only moments before a defiant L’Toff prisoner had shouted epithets at Baron Kremer and his noble guests.

Kremer accepted the needler from his sergeant. He turned back to his peers, the great lords of the west, who had gathered to discuss the final alliance against the King’s authority.

The counts and barons were pale. A couple looked like they just might be ill.
Yes
, Kremer thought,
the demonstration has been effective
.

“Well, my lords? You have seen my aerial corps in action. I have shown you my far-warning box. And now you know what
my most precious new weapon can accomplish. Are there any now among you who doubt my plan?”

The Duke of Bas-Tyra frowned and shook his head. “We cannot but be impressed, my Lord Kremer … although it would be good actually to
meet
this foreign wizard who created these wonders for you, and of which so much is rumored.”

He looked at Kremer expectantly. But the Lord of Zuslik merely waited, saying nothing, watching under darkly hooded brows.

“Ah, well,” the Duke continued, “we are certainly in agreement that our Lord King Hymiel must needs be taught a lesson in the rights of his vassals. Still, some of the methods you propose …”

“You still seem not to perceive the true situation,” Kremer said with a sigh. “You will have to be shown.”

He turned to his cousin, Lord Hern. “Have them bring out the special prisoners,” he commanded.

Lord Hern passed on the order.

The great lords muttered among themselves. Clearly they were deeply disturbed. This was getting to be more than they had bargained for. A few eyed Baron Kremer nervously, as if they had begun to suspect what he had in mind.

Lord Hern’s messenger arrived at the postern, and soon a chain of bound men were led out into the courtyard, their guards yanking on their tethers.

There was a gasp from the assembled notables.

“Those are Royal Scouts!”

“Indeed. So it is war, like it or not!”

“And look! A Kingsman!”

Amid the chain of Scouts was a man wearing the blue and gold of a royal commissioner—a Kingsman—who had the power of royal writ.

“Kremer!” the man shouted. “You dare to treat the very
body
of the King in this way? I came out here as an emissary of peace! When my royal Lord hears of this he will have your—”

“He will have my fist!” Kremer roared, interrupting the commissioner’s defiance. His troops, as one, shouted a cheer.

Kremer turned back to the assembled noblemen. He gestured to the prisoners.

“Hang them,” he said.

The stunned Duke of Bas-Tyra said, “Us? You want us to hang royal messengers?
Personally
?”

Kremer nodded. “Right now.”

The nobles looked at each other. Kremer saw a few eyes drift to glance at the gliders circling overhead in the torchlight, at the thousand disciplined troops—a fraction of his might—and at the needler in his hand. He saw the light dawn on them.

One by one, they bowed.

“As you wish … your Majesty.”

One by one, they moved to obey. Kremer watched them descend, each to take a doomed man in tow.

That left only the mercenary captains on the dais with him. He turned and regarded them—six hardened veterans of dozens of scrappy little wars. These ones had no lands or property to think of. Able to have their forces simply melt away under threat, they had far less to fear from gliders and magical weapons. If in doubt, they would simply move on.

Kremer needed them if he was to put under siege the cities of the east and their “democratic-royalist” rabble.

And to keep them over a long campaign, he would need money.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “would any of you care for some more
brandy
?”

“Dennis?”

“Hmmph? Wha—what is it, Linnora?” Dennis lifted his head. He had to rub his eyes to see. It was still dark outside. Across the floor of the little shepherd’s cabin, Arth snored softly.

Linnora had slept curled next to Dennis, under the same blanket. Now she sat up, gray eyes blinking in the pale moonlight.

“Dennis, I just felt it again.”

“Felt what?”

“That sense that someone or something has come into the world. Like the time I
knew
your little metal house had
arrived, many months ago … and when I felt you, as well, arrive on Tatir.”

Dennis shook his head to clear it. “You mean someone’s using the zievatron?”

Linnora didn’t understand. She merely stared into the night.

He wondered. Could Linnora really tell when the zievatron was operating? If she could, then did that mean someone else had just stepped through the reality transfer machine, following him onto this world?

Dennis sighed. He pitied the poor sucker, whoever it was. There was nothing he could do to help the fellow right now, that was for sure. The guy was in for one series of rude shocks.

“Well, no sense worrying about it,” he told the Princess. “Come back and get some sleep. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow.”

As the dawn light spread across the upland meadow, the little alien house shone with the colors of a King’s ransom in metal. The scholar Hoss’k whispered for his guards to keep still.

Hoss’k eyed the little house speculatively. The gods only knew how he was going to take the damnable thing apart. There had been a reason he had refrained from harvesting the whole thing months back. And it hadn’t only been the need to get the captured Princess back to Kremer as quickly as possible.

Anyway, the whole question might be moot. Just like the last time, Hoss’k had arrived only to find somebody here ahead of him! A solitary figure paced impatiently about the clearing, muttering softly and carrying boxes out of the little metal house.

In the dim light, Hoss’k could half imagine that it was the foreign wizard himself! After all, the metal house was one of the obvious places to look for the fellow.

Perhaps Nuel could be made to disassemble the house
for
him! In any event, capturing and returning the wizard to Kremer would do a lot to relieve the warlord’s wrath.

Hoss’k was disappointed when the growing light revealed the intruder to be a light-haired man. It wasn’t Dennis Nuel at all, although the fellow did seem rather tall, like the wizard.