:^:1 ^

Displaced Librarian

WHEN he left this world, Tom Whitehead was daydreaming
of a lady of his acquaintance and didn't even notice when
he disappeared from the Capitol Hill Metro station.

He was fantasizing she'd be his very first grand passion.
He was too proper, perhaps, to suggest anything more
intimate than a drink at his place after their first date at
the National Geographic lecture on—what was it?—the
ancient Minoans.

Perhaps his doctoral research on late Medieval poetry
was touching some latent romantic spot deep in his soul.

It's all fiction and never was like that at all, but that
sort of life had a lot to recommend it. Damsels in distress.
Sorcerers and.. .

His reverie was interrupted by a rush of warm, damp air.
He was suddenly aware again of the world about him. It
wasn't a Metro train at all.

It was a severe shock.

The stony brink of the low bluff on which he stood over-
looked a wide river valley between rugged, wooded hills,
and offered him a view of the valley treetops, green in the
midday sun.

His first numbed dismay turned to a shaking surge of
disorientation and disbelief, a crescendo of panic. This
place! It wasn't Iowa or Missouri, and certainly not the
gray-white Federal buildings and tree-lined streets of the
District of Columbia.

My God, I've gone insane! he screamed silently, but then
he shook his head angrily. No! I've lost my memory! And
wandered here in an amnesiac daze.

Seeking desperately for something based in solid reality,
he looked at his wristwatch: 5:25 p.M.-Mar 15-Fri. No time
had passed at all between the cool subway platform and this

Don Callander

sunny bluff's edge. ... Where in God's name am I?

A flock of large, red-and-black birds shot close overhead,
squawking happily, and dived into the stream valley. Even
in his stark terror he saw they were ducks—but ducks that
flew in shallow swoops with frantic heatings of short wings,
like sparrows. They flew in a cloud, like crows, not in the
neat chevron formations one would see over Iowa's fields
or Maryland's wetlands.

The discontinuity brought him abruptly to his senses. He
stepped carefully back from the brink and took inventory,
like a man checking to see if anything was broken after a
car accident.

What is real? He wore the familiar gray wool suit and
vest he had put on that morning, and carried his suit coat
and topcoat. He still wore the comfortable old black oxfords
he'd bought years before, when he first came to the Capi-
tal from Missouri to take on his new, exciting post at the
Library of Congress.

He folded his coat and topcoat slowly, neatly, laid them
on a flat rock, then sat on them. His watch now said 5:27
P.M. but the sun was almost directly overhead—closer to
noon than evening.

"I'm not insane! At least, I don't think I am," he insisted
aloud, "and if I didn't have a loss of memory, how did I
come to be here? And where is here, for Pete's sake?"

There were no sensible answers. There were dozens
of nonsensical ones, of course. He knew the words—
teleportation, translation, enchantment—but he just didn't
believe in them. Not for twenty years, since his early Iowa
childhood. Or ... had he stopped believing?

He laughed unsteadily. If this wasn't insanity, it was
awfully damn close.

TOM gazed distractedly at the sunlit landscape until its peace
was shattered by a great crackling and thumping among
the trees at the foot of the bluff, along the bank of the
rushing river. Treetops were tossed like rows of wheat in a
summer's gale, until he saw a terrible beast emerging from
the trees. It was fully fifty feet, from twitching nose to sharp
spear-pointed tail.

Dinosaur! was his first thought, but when the fierce-
looking animal turned in his direction, he saw it bore only

DRAGON COMPANION           3

a superficial resemblance to the thunder lizards in books or
reconstructed in the Smithsonian.

For it was scaled like a carp, light green-gold in color
with touches of red at the neck and mouth. It had four
sturdy legs, four wickedly clawed feet, and a pair of vast,
leathery, batlike wings. It also had four pointed ears and
a tapered, muscular tail as long as its body, ending in an
arrowhead point, obviously a formidable weapon.

The beast left the edge of the stream where it had been
walking on all fours, and raised its upper body until its wide-
set, intelligent green eyes were at blufftop level. Noticing
the young man for the first time, it snorted in surprise. A
ten-foot yellow flame smelling of burning sulfur and hot
asphalt shot out of its nostrils.

Tom jumped back and cried out in fear.

"Holy Cow! A Dragon\"

"Right the second guess. Not a cow at all. A Dragon!"

The all-too-real, by-your-leave Dragon coughed a cloud
of yellowish green smoke behind a polite paw. Tom's wild
disbelief was so top-heavy it broke down altogether. He
spoke to the Dragon in an almost normal, if somewhat
shaky, voice.

"I thought you were a dinosaur."

"Huh!" the Dragon snorted again. "A mythical being? Do
I look like something from a human tale?"

It turned away in a huff and a puff, preparing to ford the
stream.

"N-no, no, don't go!" called the Librarian. This talking
Dragon, no matter how terrifying, was a source of infor-
mation. Tom needed information.

"I'd like to ask you some questions, please," he shouted
after it. The Dragon turned back.

"You didn't really mean to insult my Dragonhood, did
you?" it said, the tone forgiving. "Some say I'm too touchy
about that sort of thing, and I guess perhaps I am. I'm
sorry!"

"No, no! Please forgive me and my ignorance. I'm a
stranger here, you see."

"I do see. As I live and breathe! You're a humane"

The beast curled its tail under itself, snapping three good-
sized trees as it did so and cocked its head to the left.

"Yes, I am a ... a human."

Don Callander

"I was sure of it! One can't always be certain at first
glimpse, of course. But there are little things that give you
humans away. Nobody else dresses like that! And that hair-
cut! Well! I'm amazed to see that your kind is really . . .
real."

"At the moment," Tom admitted, uneasily resuming his
seat on his coats, "I am not all that positive. Where am
I?"

The Dragon looked long and closely at the human before
it responded.

"This is the Kingdom of Carolna. We're about in the
center of the country, for that matter. A few miles west
from the seat of Murdan the Historian. He's lord of this
Small Achievement."

The displaced Librarian thought this over while the Dra-
gon idly splashed its tail in the river, much to the conster-
nation of a school of purple-stippled fish, which swam off
with a noisy splashing.

"Well, what's an 'achievement,' then?" Tom asked at
last.

"You really are a stranger!" exclaimed the huge beast
with some satisfaction. "Let me see! An 'Achievement' is
a parcel of real estate and its inhabitants under the legal,
social, economic, and political control or ownership of a rul-
er or group of rulers. A ruler 'achieves' power over the land
and its people and it becomes his 'Achievement,' you see."

"Ah, I see. But why 'Small' Achievement?"

The Dragon shook the water from its tail.

"I suppose because there are other Achievements that are
'large,' " he said with a shrug.

This conversation has definitely taken an Alice in Wonder-
land turn, thought Tom. Before he could comment, the
Dragon added, "I'd love to stay and chat all day but I must be
on my way. I'm already late for an important meeting."

The young man looked so lost and frightened that the
Dragon paused out of pity.

"Come along! I'll take you to Murdan. He's a Historian
and it's his job to answer hard questions."

"Okay, but how?" asked Tom, spreading his hands to
indicate his helplessness there in the wilderness.

Without further ado, the huge beast took the human in his
gleaming foreclaws and set him on the flat top of his head,

DRAGON COMPANION           5

just behind his brow ridge and between the four pointed
ears.

After a moment of breath-lost panic, Tom found the perch
to be quite safe, although the Dragon's head-scales were
hard, smooth, and slippery, like rounded tiles. He sat cross-
legged upon them and leaned forward to steady himself by
grasping the beast's front pair of ears.

The Dragon carefully handed up the human's coats and,
before Tom could protest or question, launched itself into
the air, beating its vast wings in a series of loud cracks
to gain altitude, and circled smoothly up into the warm,
still air.

His fear under control at last, Tom looked about curi-
ously. They were moving away from the jumbled lands
along the escarpment above the river, climbing at an ever-
increasing speed over the tallest of the tors. Leveling out
like a living airplane, his new friend glided high over a
gently rolling plain that melted in the distance into a pur-
ple haze of hills. Far beyond were azure, mauve, and gray
mountains, rank on rank, snowcaps gleaming like beacons
in the midday sun.

The land immediately below them changed rapidly from
open woodland to clear grassland dotted with blue lakes,
then to neatly plowed fields separated by hedgerows. Here
and there sturdy-looking farmhouses, barns, and sheds clus-
tered under groves of shade trees.

Once, Tom thought he saw a small castle, surrounded by
low stone walls and a water-filled ditch, but it rushed by
beneath before he could study it further.

There were people working in the fields, and cattle and
sheep grazing, but none of these paid the least attention as
the Dragon flashed overhead.

After a time, Tom ventured to speak to his strange mount,
"By the way, my name is Tom Whitehead."

Said the Dragon, "And my name is Retruance Constable.
A very old, respectable name. Constable," it added.

Tom wondered dizzily if it would be proper to ask
Retruance Constable's gender, but decided he didn't need
to know.

"Charmed," he called above the wind, instead.

"I suspect that's true," rumbled Retruance with a nod that
threatened to toss Tom high in the air. Only the Librarian's

6                 Don Callander

firm grip on the Dragon's forward ears saved him from a long
tumble to the ground. "Charmed, maybe even enchanted or
ensorceled. You, I mean. Murdan might know."

Their speed was difficult to judge. They were approach-
ing the foothills when Tom glimpsed three tall, silvery tow-
ers against the darker background of a steeply rising ridge.

"Overhall Castle," Retruance Constable told him. "The
seat of Murdan's Achievement. My honored ancestor,
Altruance Constable, built it. That was in the days of Queen
Alix Amanda Alone, when Murdan first came west."

The castle seemed small at a distance, but proved enor-
mous when they neared it. It clung to a long, rocky spur
of the foothills. Its three soaring towers were of different
heights, all perfectly matched, like the masts of a grace-
ful ship.

Red and gold pennants flew from each conical tower top.
Splotches of color marked windows and balconies lower
down, awnings spread against the bright upland sun. The
whole great complex was surrounded by thick triple ring
walls of dark red stone, twice as tall as a man on horse-
back. Each wall was pierced, in one place only, by a solid
gate-fort so placed that no one gateway stood in line with
the others.

Tom saw movement within and without the walls. An
army of men was fighting on the grassy flat under the walls,
near the fortified drawbridge and gate.

"Soldiers!" he cried, leaning forward over the Dragon's
brow to see better. They carried long spears or lances. Oth-
ers, on the fringes of the skirmish, bent short, recurved
bows, letting fly whirring clouds of arrows.

Other bowmen stood on the ramparts and shot down at the
warring parties from on high. The Dragon and its passenger
heard a rumbling, roaring sound, occasionally a piercing
scream or a mighty blare of signal horns.

"I fear so," said his companion. "Murdan's trying to
regain his Overhall from a troop of Mercenary Knights who
captured it while Murdan was away. The Historian has been
besieging his own house since his return, I've been told."

The Dragon dropped like a stone toward the melee—
much too swiftly for Tom's stomach—roaring at the top
of its thunderous voice and spitting great gouts of orange
flame. At the sight, sound, and scorch of his approach, the

DRAGON COMPANION           7

black-clad soldiers ceased slashing at the men in orange and
retreated in orderly fashion, back through a sally port in the
outermost bailey wall.

Tom goggled in horror at a dozen bloody bodies littering
the grassy plain. Wounded blackcoats were being helped
into the castle while the orange soldiers dragged their own
casualties down to a camp under the edge of a wood.

A company of orange-clad archers sent flight after flight
of arrows after the retreating defenders, but most fell short
of the too-distant marks. Even before Retruance Constable
came gliding down in the midst of the tents, relative peace
returned to the scene. The soldiers of Murdan threw them-
selves to the ground to catch their breath well out of arrow
flight, among their tents.

Retruance Constable landed as lightly as milkweed down
before a gaily flagged and pennanted orange pavilion with a
commanding view of the stretch of greensward sloping from
the forest's edge up to the level ground before the castle
gatehouse. The Dragon lowered its head to the ground and
Tom gratefully slid from his seat between its ears just as
a huge man in tangerine-gold half armor burst from the
big tent.

"Retruance Constable, you insufferable gargoyle! Where
in the depths of hell have you been? Hey? Answer me that,
oversized salamander!"

The huge Dragon, to Tom's great surprise, actually looked
sheepishly down at the angry man of middle years, florid
face, and short gray locks who stood, fists on hips, scowling
at them.

"Now, now, now! Murdan!" Retruance sputtered. "We
have a guest..."

"Bum the blasted guest!" shouted the gray-headed His-
torian. At once five husky marshals rushed forward to grab
Tom's arms and began to drag him away.

"I want to know why, in the beloved name of Breedge,
you took seven staggering, stultifying weeks to get here,
you and your brother!"

Tom's escort paused, not wanting to miss the confronta-
tion between the Dragon and the Historian.

"Now, now, now!" repeated the Dragon, waving his
foreclaws at Murdan placatingly. "I came as soon as I
got your message. Furbetrance will be close behind me,

8                  Don Callander

if he's not yet here, I'm sure. There, now really . .."

As suddenly as it flared, the Historian's temper cooled
and he rushed forward to embrace the Dragon's scaly snout,
deftly avoiding a flaming sigh of relief. It occurred to Tom
that the two were really quite fond of each other but, at the
same time, that the Historian had great power, even over
his new friend.

"Am I glad to see you!" cried Murdan. "Now maybe we
can get something done here. Come along! We'll have a
long talk and look things over."

He turned to stalk away but Retruance called after him.

"Our guest," he hissed, smokily.

"Guest? What guest?" rumbled Murdan the Historian.

"The one you just ordered burned at the stake," Retruance
pointed out. Indeed, now that the argument had waned, the
soldiers were resolutely dragging Tom toward a large stack
of firewood piled around a post to which were attached iron
chains and manacles.

"Oh, for... Here! Here ... stop that! Cancel that last
order," Murdan shouted. "At ease, men! Halt! Bring the
young man to me."

Once Tom stood before him, the Historian gestured for
the soldiers to let him go.

The two men exchanged long, evaluating looks. Tom
decided at once that a bold face was necessary, but he
kept silent until the older man spoke.

"A youngblood, friend Dragon, somewhat scholarly for
all that. But a few days and nights hacking and banging on
the killing field will put him in fighting shape. I misdoubt
but he'll make a good soldier, good as any here, if he
manages to keep his head on his shoulders."

"Yes, sir," Retruance replied, meekly.

"Sirrah, you have the gift of a closed mouth, which I
like, but tell me your name and from whence you hail."

Tom took a deep breath to still his racing heart and cleared
his throat twice.

"I am Tom Whitehead. I'm from Iowa and Washington."

"Where are these places? I've never heard of them." asked
the other.

"In the U.S.A.—er, that is, in America, sir."

"Ah!" Murdan said blankly to the Dragon. "An enchant-
ment at work, I would guess?"

DRAGON COMPANION           9

"I would so guess," replied Retruance.

"And a human, unless I miss my guess! They're so scarce,
many disbelieve in them, I know," continued the Historian.
"Tell me of your human self, sirrah, pray do!"

"I am twenty-six years of age, and a professional Librar-
ian," Tom hurried on. Every time he felt he was gaining a
grip on reality, it slipped away again. He'd never thought
of humans as being scarce.

"A Librarian? Very good! That's most interesting,"
boomed the Historian. "If you're not bespoken, I can use
a Librarian in my service, lad."

"Well...," Tom hesitated.

"Now don't be slow to make up your mind. You'll spoil
the impression I've gotten of you," eluded Murdan.

Tom grasped at the chance for the stability of regular
employment without thinking further about it. He would
at least have some protection and a known place in this
unknown land—which promised to be a highly dangerous
place, as well. He remembered the bleeding bodies on the
slopes before the castle gate.

"Er. . . providing the terms are fair," he said quickly,
surprising himself with his boldness.

"Best in the kingdom!" promised Murdan with a laugh,
obviously pleased. "A hundred vols, payable at the first of
each month, and all you can eat if we have it to give you.
A bed, dry most of the time, and two blankets if it's cold.
Mounts, of course—"

"He'll ride me," interrupted Retruance suddenly. He gazed
proudly at the Librarian he'd found. Tom blinked back his
gratitude.

"Very lucky, too, my boy!" cried Murdan. "A Dragon
Companion is to be envied."

"I am sure of it, s-s-sir," replied the Librarian, although
he had yet some doubts about riding a Dragon. "Forgive
me, but I don't know the value of a vol."

"A vol—well, it's a thick silver coin the size of your
thumbnail. A vol is one-hundredth of a prone. A prone is
enough for a man to live in comfort for a year," Murdan
explained.

Turning to the Dragon, he said, "I do like a man who
takes care of himself in money matters! Will he do as well
in battle?"

10 Don Caliander

"How could it be else?" asked Tom, made breathless by
the speed of events but recalling how the black-clad soldiers
had fled at the sight of the Dragon. "With such a steed as
Retruance Constable? Who could best me?"

"None but another Dragon Companion," said Murdan,
seriously. "And then it depends on your own abilities and
resources. Companion!"

"Dragon Companion?" asked the Librarian, wonder-
ingly.

"The title of such men as a Dragon chooses to carry,
of course. Retruance Constable has given it to you,"
Murdan responded. "Come along, now that's settled, you
two. There's revenge to plan."

The odd pair. Dragon and Librarian, followed the Histo-
rian to the great orange-and-white pavilion. It was pitched
on the highest point in the camp, under the eaves of the for-
est. Before entering, the Historian spun about and gestured
over his shoulder at the castle towering above them, even
at this distance. Tom saw now that between the sloped field
of battle and the gate tower was a broad, steep-banked moat,
filled with swiftly rushing water. It was spanned in front of
the fortified gate by a heavy timber drawbridge, now raised
on enormous chains.

"It's been more than two months now," said Murdan to
the Dragon. "That Basilicae, rascally bastard, sneaked right
in when I was away to Spring Session. Killed three of my
good soldiers out of hand! Chased my daughter and her
family out in the cold! Scurvy-ridden, curly-bearded son
of a—"

Retruance Constable said hastily, "How have you fared
since?"

"Surrounded 'em, cut 'em off from resupply. They're
hungry, I'm sure."

"They've got all the water they'll ever need, of course,"
mused Retruance, thoughtfully. "Great-Grandfather Altru-
ance planned the castle too well for that! But he thought
you would be on the inside."

"Unfortunately, they have Gugglerun, yes," agreed Tom's
new master.

"Guggle . . . ?" asked Tom.

"Gugglerun," explained Retruance. "It's an underground
stream that fills the castle cisterns and the castle moat.

DRAGON COMPANION          11

Great-Grandfather rerouted an existing mountain freshet to
supply all water needs. If this Basilicae didn't have it, he
would flee or surrender much more quickly. But..."

"Can't you dam the stream above the castle, at least
temporarily?" asked Tom. He knew the medieval mind.
It seemed the sort of thing the heroes of his epic poems
might have done in such a case.

His two companions stopped looking at the castle and
turned together to look at the newcomer.

"Now," puffed the Historian, "now, I call that thinking
on one's feet! Why didn't you think of that. Dragon?"

"Well, no one has ever done it," said Retruance doubt-
fully, returning the Historian's accusing glare.

"A good reason for trying it once," observed Tom, getting
into the spirit of the discussion, despite himself.

"Good idea!" cried Murdan. "This human might earn his
keep, after all. See to it. Dragon and Companion!"

And he went into the tent and flipped the flap shut.

"Now wait a moment!" cried Retruance after the Histo-
rian's retreating back. "What if we do stop up Gugglerun?
What advantage to our people then?"

"You stop the stream and deny them water and they'll be
out of there like an arrow from a bow, I guarantee," said the
Historian, popping his head out of the tent. "Get busy!"

He raised one great arm and shook his fist at tiny figures
visible on the battlements atop the castle wall. At once a
shower of black arrows flew but fell just beyond the moat,
far short of the edge of camp.

"We'll see to it," agreed Retruance. "Come, Companion!
Let us explore Gugglerun in depth."

'^.2'^.
The Gugglerun Puzzle

TOM followed the huge beast out into the open square amid
the tents.

"He seems to think I can . . . well, solve the Gugglerun
thing," he complained to Retruance. "Am I supposed to be
some sort of wizard, or something?"

"No, no, not a wizard. Wizards are a vol a dozen! Overhall
is protected by powerful spells, so wizards are of no use. You
can be sure Murdan would have called in a few by now, if
they were.

"Now, practical things like how to build an arbalest,
that's what Librarians are supposed to know. Or find out,"
Retruance Constable explained. It picked a mossy spot under
a spreading oak to stretch out its fifty feet of scales, wings,
and talons.

"Where I come from," said Tom thoughtfully, seating
himself on a protruding root, "Librarians take care of storing
and retrieving information, usually in books."

"Books? Oh, you mean those paper-and-leather things
nobody ever looks at. Well, I suppose someone has to care
for them."

"Books," said Tom firmly, "are storehouses of knowl-
edge. Someone has to look after them, keep them in order.
When people want to know something, they have a Librarian
look in the books to find the information for them. It's ...
it's a sort of puzzle game, really. The challenge is to know
exactly where to look for the answer."

"No different from the Gugglerun puzzle, then," said
Retruance sleepily. "Your challenge is to find a place
to stop up the stream. I suggest you start looking.
Murdan seems a jolly old elf, but he can't stand slow
or stupid retainers. Especially highly paid ones like
you."

12

DRAGON COMPANION          13

"I'm neither," bridled Tom. "But.. ." He leaned his
elbows on his knees and shook his head to shake out the
woolliness within.

But was it so different, this challenge? If he were in the
Library of Congress now, he'd look up Gugglerun first,
and then research underwater streams, castle moats, cas-
tle water supplies, hydrological engineering, local geology,
and certainly Overhall Castle history, in particular, for clues
to the basic problem—how to block the stream temporarily
and force the invaders to face death by thirst, to run or
surrender.

"Retruance?" he asked.

The Dragon was asleep in the late-aftemoon sunshine,
blowing out tiny blue puffs of smoke to the sound of gentle
snores. At the Librarian's call, it popped open its near-side
eye and grunted.

"A question," said Tom.

"Ask away."

"Are there any papers or records regarding the layout of
Overhall? Your great-grandfather built the place. He must
have kept records, accounts, plans, that sort of thing."

Retruance rolled over onto its stomach.

"Certainly! Stacks and crates of dusty old documents,
notes, drawings. Altruance was a very careful, meticulous
worker."

"Can I see them? Are they far away? If he diverted
Gugglerun in the first place, perhaps there's a sketch or
a plan, or even a memo to his construction foreman."

"I know exactly where they are. A whole room filled with
'em in trunks and crates."

"Let's go look at them, then!"

'There's a problem, you see," the Dragon said, sad-
ly. "Great-Grandfather's storeroom is in Middletower, up
there."

It pointed a long, sharp claw at the castle, now very beau-
tifully catching the level rays of the setting sun, glowing
golden, slashed with deep purple shadows—like something
from a Maxfield Parrish painting, Tom thought.

"Damnation!" he said.

AS twilight fell on the forest's edge, Tom returned to his
seat on the root, resting his forehead on his hand to aid in

14 Don Callander

thinking. After a long while the Dragon stirred and sniffed
the air.

"Ah, supper's ready!" it cried. "Come along. Companion.
Let's be at the head of the chow line!"

It led the way to a field kitchen, where several score
soldiers in orange livery already stood in line, mess kits
in hand, waiting impatiently for supper to begin. Under the
canopy of the kitchen tent, cooks and servers bustled about
importantly, putting all in order and waiting for the signal
to begin.

Retruance inserted its great head at the front of the line.
The men already there moved back respectfully to make
space for it and Murdan's new Librarian.

"I don't like jumping to the head of a line," Tom objected.

"Nonsense. R.H.I.P.!" said Retruance, blinking in sur-
prise.

"Huh?"

"Rank has its privileges," the Dragon quoted. It nodded
toward a large tent across the open square. "If I weren't so
bulky, we'd eat in the officers' mess over there, but it's
much too small for me."

The soldiers took their intrusion with good grace. They
called friendly insults to the Dragon and made room for the
Librarian without demur.

"Corned beef and cabbage!" exclaimed the Dragon. "My
favorite."

It didn't seem to be a favorite of Murdan's soldiers, jud-
ging from the uncomplimentary name they had for the dish,
but once Retruance had collected its great bowl of the savory
mixture and Tom had received his own portion, the line
moved briskly along, with each man taking away to the
tables generous helpings. They fell to eating with evident
relish.

Tom found the corned beef and cabbage quite tasty. His
lunch, eaten at his library desk, had been a bologna sand-
wich on white bread and an apple. It seemed at least a
month had gone by since then.

He ate it all, topping it off with a sweet bread pudding
after he decided the black specks weren't weevils, after all,
but tart, dried currants.

"What will the boss do if we fail to find a way to stop
Gugglerun?" he asked.

DRAGON COMPANION          15

"Nobody ever fails when Murdan expects something
done," said Retruance. It was much too large to take a
seat at the mess table, but lay mostly outside with just his
head and forelegs inside the tent. "I am not at all sure what
would happen to you. At me, he'd scream a bit, I suppose,
but no elf has the power to harm a Dragon."

"I suppose he'd fire me," guessed Tom. "I wouldn't like
that."

"No, I suppose being burned at the stake is a most
unpleasant way to perish," agreed Retruance.

"Burned .. . ? Just for failing an assignment!" cried the
Librarian.

"It's often the prescribed punishment."

"Ugh!" It was all Tom could think of to say.

FILLED with good food, the Dragon showed signs of going
back to sleep. While he felt he should get some rest, too,
Tom found sleep difficult. Nobody offered him the dry
bed promised by the Historian in his verbal contract.
Tom thought it best not to be too visible, just then,
so he gathered together a few armfuls of fallen leaves
under their oak and made them up into a fairly com-
fortable bed. The temperature had fallen sharply since
the sun had gone down, but lying close to the sleeping
Dragon was quite warm. He covered himself with his
topcoat.

/ hope it isn 't a restless sleeper, he thought. But Retruance
slept like a stone, unmoving except for a slight rising and
falling of its enormous chest and an occasional twitch of its
leathery wings or tail.

Tom set his mind to the problem of Gugglerun but gave
way at last to weariness well before the watch changed at
midnight.

He was awakened at dawn, when someone prodded his
ribs with the butt of a spear.

"Librarian, is it?" asked someone.

Tom rolled over. A scowling soldier stood over him in
the gray light.

"Huh? What?"

"He's just a tough old sergeant," murmured Retruance
without opening his eyes. "Curse him roundly and maybe
he'll go away."

16

Don Callander

"You this Tom Librarian?" repeated the sergeant, paying
no attention to the Dragon.

"Yes, I'm Tom ..."

"Chief is asking for you over to the pavilion," grunted
the noncom. He thought seriously of prodding the sleepy
civilian again but, as the Dragon was now watching him
through one slitted eye, he left, instead.

"Better see what our old Historian wants," sighed
Refinance. "You won't need me. I'll wait here. Keep the

spot warm, you know."

Tom paused at a community washstand to splash cold
water on his face, trying to put his rumpled clothes into
some order as he hastened to the Historian's tent.

He heard the voice of Murdan long before he reached
the tent. He was admitted by heavily armed cavalrymen
with long, curved swords drawn. The Master was in a foul
mood, Tom realized, and he sought to slip into the back

row, unnoticed.

Murdan spotted him at once.

"Here, Librarian! Have you stopped up Gugglerun yet?"
The officers around Murdan's chair parted quickly to

allow Tom to move to the front, helped by a gentle shove

disguised as an encouraging pat.

"Uh, no, sir," Tom stammered. "I find that there is little
or no information on Gugglerun and the castle waterworks

available here."

Murdan scowled angrily, grating out, "I depend on you,
young Tom. My men are waiting for you to produce results.

Many will die if you don't."

"Give me a break," Tom cried in exasperation. "I've been

here only an evening and a night!"

His response rather startled the Historian, who was more

used to obedience than objections.

Before he could comment, Tom plunged on.
"I'll need at least a day or two to solve your problem,

sir. I have decided how I'll proceed but I haven't enough

daylight to act."

"I like a man who speaks his mind, even if he hasn't yet
proved he has one," Murdan told the assembled officers. "If
he succeeds, all to the good. But if he fails . . ."

"Mere men fail at times," Tom interrupted. "Threats of
punishment won't make the solution easier."

DRAGON COMPANION          17

"Back off, then," the Historian said quickly. "What will
you do?"

"I'm not prepared to say just yet. May I have today to
work it out?"

Murdan turned to a senior officer standing to the left of
his chair.

"Captain Graham, what do you expect the Mercenary
Knights to do today, after the failed sortie of yesterday?"

"If the enemy runs true to form, sir, he'll rest today.
Perhaps he'll sally again late this evening or tonight. He
hasn't tried night operations, yet."

"A good thing," grunted Murdan. "Now, Librarian, I
won't bluff you on this. I can't afford to carry on this siege
longer than a few more days. I must recover Overhall and my
assets within quickly. Another week and my men will have
to eat promises and fight without pay. Soldiers who fight
without food don't fight their best. You understand?"

"I will, of course, do all I can," replied the Librarian.

"That's all I ask, really." Murdan's tone had turned quite
mild, rather worried and sad. "Come up with a way to stop
Gugglerun by tomorrow night. Remember, it must be a
temporary stoppage only. Without water, the castle will be
useless to me afterward."

"I'll begin at once," promised Tom solemnly, and an idea
at that very moment popped into his brain. "I may need
some help."

"Come to me personally for anything within my pow-
ers," said the Historian. "At any time. Wake me, if nec-
essary!"

"For the moment, all I need is the Dragon Retruance,"
Tom said.

"Get on with it, then. Librarian."

The Master of Overhall gestured dismissal.

TOM found the Dragon waiting at the head of the breakfast
line exchanging small talk with the soldiers. These made
way again for the Librarian to stand beside his mount's
head.

"I've been thinking of your great-grandfather's storeroom
filled with papers," he told Retruance as they ate. "I've got
to see them, either that or crawl inside the mountain and
look for Gugglerun, on site."

18                Don Callander

"Your first idea is the best," agreed Retruance. He downed
six whole red-cheeked apples in quick succession, seeds,
stems and all, chewing rapidly. "I take it you intend to

sneak into the castle."

'The only way," said Tom with a shrug.

"It shouldn't be too difficult. A diversion seems required.
I noticed when we arrived that everyone on the castle walls
was watching the battle. We can slip in behind their backs
if they have something outside to watch. Once inside, I can

lead you to that storeroom."
"/ might slip in through some crack or other," considered

the Librarian, shaking his head, "but you are much too
large to go anywhere unnoticed, Retruance. I'll have to go

alone."
"Oh, nonsense!" Retruance Constable scoffed. "I can take

care of that with a wave of a wing."

It did just that, snapping two six-inch claws on its right
forepaw together. The sound made everyone in the mess
tent jump and reach for swords and daggers. When they
looked, the huge gold-green Dragon had disappeared!

Not exactly disappeared. Looking down, Tom discov-
ered a half-foot-long version of the fifty-foot beast modestly
refolding its wings on the edge of the table.

"Is that you, Retruance Constable?" he asked in surprise.

"None other!" said the other in a small voice. "Overdid
it a bit. Out of practice at reducing, I guess. But maybe not.
This size I could fit in your coat pocket if I curled my tail.

From there I can tell you where to go."

"We'll talk to Murdan first, to arrange a convincing diver-
sion," decided the Librarian. "Best get started."

Retruance hopped off the table and followed the Librarian

to the Historian's pavilion.

^3^
Breaking and Entering

THREE companies of foot soldiers marched in good order
up the grassy slope toward Overhall's main gate. As they
marched they yelled out insults at the defenders and before
they had moved halfway across the green, the battlements
were black with Mercenary Knights, shouting back in deri-
sion.

Halting just within range of the gate towers, the soldiers
of Murdan each crouched down on one knee. A double
rank of archers hidden behind them rose on tiptoe, bent
their bows, and sent a blizzard of orange-shafted arrows
arching toward the battlements.

The black-clad soldiers quickly ducked back behind pro-
tective crenellations, but not before a half dozen screamed
in pain and fear and, twisting about, fell from the walls into
the rushing moat.

"Archers!" someone shouted in a commanding voice.
"Take your stands! Shoot the bowmen!"

Easier ordered than done, for the orange soldiers made
poor targets at that distance, half-hidden in the tall grass.
Murdan's expert bowmen popped up to loose a second
and a third flight, each time clearing the walls for several
moments.

In the interval, ten pairs of soldiers in orange dashed
forward. In each pair, one man carried a large, square shield
over his head while the other carried a coil of rope in one
hand and a three-pronged grappling hook in the other.

At the verge of Gugglerun moat, the grapplers crouched
beneath their heavy wooden shields and waited while the
sharp blows of the black-clad archers reduced their protec-
tion to pincushions, with an incessant rattle like hail on a
shed roof.

Watching from the edge of the field below the forest,

20

DRAGON COMPANION          21

Don Callander

Murdan saw that none of the grapplers fell in the first volley
from the walls. Timing was everything here. If his archers

did their work properly . . .

The orange bowmen leaped to their feet again, sending
a fourth and fifth cloud of arrows at the defenders on the
battlements. Pour of the orange fell to the grass, joining
several of the foot soldiers in death. But at least eight enemy
archers fell, either back into their comrades' arms, or into

the waiting moat.

Now the grapplers, as the defending archers drew back
into cover, stepped from behind their shields, whirled the
heavy hooks about their heads three or four times and let
fly at the end of the drawbridge, fifteen feet over their heads
and twenty feet across the moat.

Most of the hooks fell back into the water, to be reeled
in by the throwers. Of the ten thrown, two caught!

"Now, get the hell out of there!" cried Murdan aloud,
waving his arms frantically.

As if they had heard his order, the grapplers and their
shield men waited for another volley from the field and
then dashed out of range as fast as they could run. Only
one stumbled and fell, a black shaft through his calf, but
a running mate threw away his heavy shield and grabbed
for his arm, helping him hobble out of range.

Enemy arrows fell on all sides of them but the pair reached
safety at the bottom of the field without further harm. The
soldiers and officers watching cheered lustily.

The two hooked lines that had caught on the end of the
draw were carried back with the retreating throwers, all the
way to waiting infantry. Everyone within reach grabbed
onto the ropes and pulled as they fell back, just out of

bowshot.

The drawbridge, almost vertical, was supported by heavy

chains on each side, with links as large as a man's two hand
spans. For a long moment, as the slack was taken up in
the ropes, the chains resisted. The archers above showered
the field with futile arrows, all falling short of the tugging

orangemen.

A brave soul in the gate tower climbed to the top of
the draw with a knife in his teeth, intending to slash the
straining ropes. At a signal blast from a hom, a small party
of mounted archers dashed across the field, shooting at the

climber as they rode. An arrow flying close caused him to
lose his grip and drop his knife. He slid, yelling, to the
bottom of the span.

Before the mounted archers could retreat beyond the
reach of the defenders' arrows, a ragged volley shot two
from their saddles. The fallen were expertly plucked from
the ground almost before they hit. The party rode back to
the forest edge.

By now, the hauling on ropes overbalanced the counter-
weights inside the gate tower. The bridge slowly came down
and crashed on the near edge.

A dozen black-clad men sped out onto the bridge, shoot-
ing as they came. Someone slashed the ropes. The soldiers
hauling on the ropes fell on their backs as the tension was
released.

Before the orange archers could dash forward to shoot
again, the drawbridge was rapidly cranked up.

MURDAN glanced up at the sun, took a moment to shake his
fist and bellow an obscenity at the battlements, then turned
back to camp.

"It almost worked!" said Graham, grinning broadly,
"Something to try again, I think. Only a couple of our
men dead to at least ten of theirs. That's remarkable in
siege warfare."

"And it should have given my new Librarian time to
cross the rear footbridge without being noticed," said the
Historian. "I hope, at least. Anybody see if they made it?"

But everyone had been watching the frontal attack on the
draw. They had forgotten to look for Tom and the shrunken
Dragon.

"LOCKED!" Tom gasped, out of breath from the dash across
the one-plank footbridge to the postern door of Overhall.
"Damn it to hell!"

"Take a breather," advised the tiny Dragon in his coat
pocket. "I'll take care of it."

Leaning far out of the pocket, Retruance blew a white-hot
jet of flame as thick as a pencil at the lockplate. The rusty
metal glowed red, then white. Then it cracked loudly and
crumbled to several pieces as the wood around it smoked
and flamed briefly. The castle's back door swung ajar.

22

DRAGON COMPANION          23

Don Callander

"In! In!" urged the Dragon.
Tom stopped only to beat out the flames that licked at

the wood around the lock, lest the smoke attract someone's

attention.

"You and I should become burglars," chortled the Dra-
gon.

"Later!" muttered the Librarian. "Which way now?"
They plunged along a bare stone corridor between the
aftermost and the middle of the castle's three tow-
ers. Retruance had identified them by name—Foretower,
Middletower, and Aftertower. Middletower was the tallest
by thirty feet or more, and while the other two were of nearly
equal height, Aftertower was set highest on the ridge and

thus appeared the tallest.
On the west side, all three rose in a graceful, shallow

curve from the ridge on which they were built, but were
connected to each other on the east by a long, high-walled
inner court. The court was lined with stables and barracks,
the household kitchen, a bake house, workshops, and store-
rooms, both up against the bailey wall and beneath the tow-
ers themselves. The road between them was broad enough
to drive a pair of wagons side by side, but the rise from front
to back was quite steep. In places, steps had been carved in

the stone for foot traffic.

Into the upper part of this court the burglars came from
the rear sally port. Tom paused to look about. There was
no one in sight. As they had hoped, everyone had rushed
to the front of the complex to watch or participate in the

defense.

"That door over there, under Middletower," whispered

Retruance, pointing with his tail. "Hop it! Sounds like the

diversion has about run its course."

Tom sprinted across the road and dodged between a
deserted smithy and a holding pen for horses waiting to

be shod.

"Watch yourself!" hissed the Dragon to the horses. "Keep

quiet about us!"

The three horses obediently turned away and resumed
munching contentedly on oats from a feedbox attached to

the pen wall.

"Horses can talk?" said Tom, panting as they reached the

small service door.

"Of course they can, and they'll oblige a Dragon over
a spurred horseman, any day. Besides, nobody listens to
horses, except maybe stable lads. They'll forget about us
in a couple of minutes, anyway. Short memories."

Tom twisted the doorknob and pulled at it. It wouldn't
budge.

"Damn!" he swore.

"It opens in!" Retruance prompted. "See, the jamb is on
the other side."

"Oh!" Tom breathed in relief. He pushed the door so hard
he almost fell through when it swung open.

"In! In!" repeated the pocket-size Dragon. "Get it shut!
Someone is coming up the road!"

Inside it was as black as a coal mine, but once under
cover Tom took time to catch his breath and let his eyes
become accustomed to the gloom. Ahead of them a corridor
led straight into the base of Middletower, and on either
side there were narrow stairs, one winding down and the
other up.

"We go up," Retruance directed. "Household offices are
on the second and third floor and Great-Grandfather's rooms
are on the fourth."

"And above them?" asked Tom, climbing the stair. A dim
cresset burned fitfully, high overhead, making it somewhat
easier to see.

"Lady's quarters. Mistress's quarters, but Murdan's wife
is long dead, so they may be empty. Children's nursery.
Lookout post. Belfry under the roof."

They passed the second floor, moving silently on the
dusty, worn steps, and then the third. No sounds came
through the thick stone walls.

"I've seen lots of pictures of castles. Never been in one,"
puffed Tom when he paused to catch his breath. "Your
ancestor seems to have done a superb job on Overhall, from
what I've seen. The floors even here are level, the stairs are
evenly spaced, and the walls aren't damp at all."

"Thank you. Sir Librarian," said Retruance, a bit sarcas-
tically. "My family thanks you, too."

"This is the fourth level," Tom declared when they re-
sumed climbing. "But there's no door!"

"Trick of the trade," explained the Dragon. "Here. I'll
find it."

24

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 25

It struggled free of Tom's pocket and flapped across the
inner wall, examining it carefully.

"Ah, here 'tis!" it cried softly. "In Altruance's day it
generally stood open for ventilation."

The Dragon triggered a hidden catch, and a door appeared
in outline on the wall. The Librarian put his shoulder to it
and swung it inward. Beyond was a vast cavern of a room,
half-round in plan, big enough for a full-grown Dragon or
two to move about and work in.

A vast, dust-covered drawing table stood under three
filigreed windows on the south wall. Sunlight poured in,
making sparkling diamonds in the dusty air.

On the west wall was an enormous, low bed with ornately
carved posts and a sagging canopy of dull reddish material.
The center of the room was devoted to an out-sized divan
and normal-sized chairs, so that the Dragon and his guests
could sit together in comfort, read from the scrolls and
books piled on the floor everywhere, and talk.

The north wall was a partition of beams and plaster with
several high archways cut through, leading to what seemed
to be a kitchen, a bath, a smaller sitting room (if you could
say anything made to Dragon scale was "small"). At the
side opposite the service door was an open stone staircase
leading up and down, common access for all the upper floors

of the tower.

Next to the stairway, the western windows were set in
wood, not stone. Double leaves could be swung inward,
like huge doors. A Dragon could fly in and out this way,
rather than squeeze up and down the stairs.

"You live here?" Tom asked as he looked about for a

place to begin.

"Summers, once, when I was a kit. I was only seventy

when Altruance burned out—"

"Burned out!"

"That's the way we Dragons go, you know, when we
get very ancient," replied Retruance solemnly. "Quick and
painless, I'm told. A good way to die after a long life."

"Dragons live a very long time, then?"

"It varies. Altruance lived to be five hundred and fifty-
one. My father lives still, as far as I know, at three hundred
and four years. He disappeared almost a decade ago and
hasn't been heard from since. My brother Purbetrance and

I were off looking for some trace of him, in case he needed
help, when Murdan's call came, a month back."

"And your mother?"

"Female Dragons live by themselves after their children
grow to full size. Mama lives in the Far South. I visit her
every year or two. She lives a very quiet, retired life, assist-
ing the fisher folk from her island lair. In many ways I
envy her."

"I've got to ask. I assume that you are a male Dragon,
Retruance?"

"Oh, my, yes! Females are considerably smaller than we
males, with much daintier scales and are usually pastel col-
ored. I didn't realize you might be confused."

"I wasn't sure I should ask," Tom admitted. "Where is
Great-Grandfather's storeroom?"

"There," said Retruance, pointing a claw at a heavy, iron-
strapped door in the comer near the stairs. "It may take a
while to open. Altruance used some strong locking spells
on it. I think I can remember them, however."

"How long do you think we have? Will anyone come
this way?"

"If the living quarters upstairs are being used, someone
might come up or down at any moment. I don't think any-
one's been here for years from the looks of it all, though.
Certainly the Mercenary Knights haven't done any looting
here, yet. However, someone has been using the stairs, I
think, to judge by the lack of dust."

"I think we should go into the storeroom and close the
door."

"Good idea!" agreed the Dragon. He went to the closed
door and began to work what Tom realized were unlocking
spells.

DRAGON COMPANION          27

^4^
Middletower at Midnight

WHILE the Dragon chanted softly to unlock Altruance's
storeroom, Tom went to the south-facing windows and
peeped out, careful not to be seen accidentally by anyone
looking up at the tower.

He watched the final minutes of the diversion at the
foregate, or what he could see of it that wasn't blocked by
the bulk of Foretower. At least he had a good view of most
of the battlements and the crowd of black-clad defenders
gathered there, shooting and shouting at the orange attack-
ers. It sent a shiver through him to see men, pierced with
orange-shafted arrows, fling up their arms and collapse
screaming among their fellows.

He had never seen war and killing before except on a
television or movie screen. The distance from the scene
rendered it more bearable, however, until he remembered
that these men had been hurt or had been killed just to get
him into the castle unseen.

"There!" grunted Retruance triumphantly, after four long
minutes of intense unspelling.

"Get inside! The battle's over and the Mercenary Knights
are returning to their normal duties," said the Librarian.
The two went quickly through the open storeroom door
and Tom swung it shut behind them, cutting off all illu-
mination.

"Need a light?" asked the Dragon. Not waiting for a
reply, he released a thin jet of yellow flame into the dusty,
musty air.

"Whew!" Tom exclaimed. The cry was brought on by
the sight of a room larger than most gymnasiums, packed
from floor to ceiling and wall to wall with cabinets, crates,
bundles, sacks, and barrels, all filled to overflowing with
books, scrolls, and papers, yellowed and fragile.

26

"Great-Grandfather saved every scrap, I'd say," said Re-
truance proudly.

"I'll say he did!" exclaimed Tom. He opened the first
cabinet beside the door and peered at the top sheet of a
stack on the highest shelf.

"Here's a lantern. I could keep my own light burning for
hours, but it would cut down my usefulness," Retruance
said, again suiting action to words.

He found a second lantern still half-filled with fragrant
oil, and lighted it also. The light was clear and steady,
making it easier to read the sprawling, decorative script
of an elderly gentleman Dragon with no reason to think
anyone other than himself would ever need to read it.

But such holographs were food and drink to a profes-
sional Librarian, and once he'd studied the hand (claw?)
for a few minutes, Tom found he could decipher it fairly
easily.

At least it's more or less in English, or whatever they
call the language here, he thought. Seem to be some French
and German words here and there, but mostly it's good old
English.

With a faint clap of wings, Retruance made himself
somewhat larger—not full-sized by any means, but large
enough to reach the mountains of papers all about them.

"We're looking for anything about the building of
Overhall," Tom reminded him. "Your ancestor seems to
have been an orderly person. What is at the top of the stack
is probably what was filed last, with older documents toward
the bottom."

"Look at this!" exclaimed Retruance excitedly.

Tom dropped the document he was reading and went to
stand beside the Dragon.

"His holiday shopping list!" exclaimed Retruance.
"Here's my brother's name—and here's my name, too!
Let's see, he scratched out the half ton of coal and
overwrote 'a mere bootful will do for the lad.' Humph!
Wonder what I did to make him cut my present to a
bootful?"

Tom laughed despite himself.

"Not much to do with the building of Overhall," he
reminded gently, seeing his friend was moved almost to
tears by the intimate glimpse of the departed ancestor. "You

28                Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

29

can read them all to your heart's content, once we've run
the knights out."

"Right you are," Retruance gulped. "Business before
pleasure, Great-Grandfather would have said."

An hour passed and then a second while they read and
read and read, beginning at the wall cabinets to the right
of the door and proceeding systematically around the room.
Occasionally they stopped to rest their eyes and move the
lamps into better positions—and to listen carefully for any
sounds of life outside the storeroom.

Sometimes they heard faint footsteps or the call of the
sentries on the walls, but for the most part this tower seemed
deserted. A child cried, far off, then stopped. Horses' hooves
clopped on the cobbled courtyards. Dogs barked.

Hope they don't come up here, thought Retruance, who
had great respect for dogs, and especially their abilities to
observe and smell. He went on picking up papers, study-
ing them briefly, and putting them back in another neat
stack when he had decided they contained nothing about
Gugglerun.

"We'd better speed this up," he said when they reached
the first comer of the room. "At the rate we're going, we'll
be in here a week."

"I do believe old Altruance was neatly efficient," Tom
said, pausing also. "Made a good Librarian, he would have.
That's a compliment, Retruance."

"I took it as such."

"If we read the top sheet of each stack and don't bother
to look at all the pieces underneath, we'll perhaps come on
his notes and papers on Gugglerun much faster. Unfortu-
nately, he didn't seem to alphabetize his subjects. Probably
arranged them in order of their importance to himself."

"In that case, the proper papers are probably buried at
the bottom of the furthest pile," Retruance said grump-
ily.

"You're probably right! He'd have little cause to refer
to them regularly, once construction was completed. Try
those old crates at the far comer, then. I'll work my way
down this wall, as I said, as rapidly as possible."

The wooden cases in question undoubtedly contained
the oldest files in the lot. Someone had almost illegibly
scrawled on one, "XVI yr Alix R."

"What do you think this means?" asked the Dragon.

Tom examined the inscription. "Clearly, the sixteenth
year of your Queen Alix Amanda. You mentioned her
name, yesterday."

"Yes, she was queen of Carolna when Altruance came
to build Murdan's Overhall!"

He ripped the top off the crate but slowed his claws
immediately when the top sheets inside crumbled to yellow
scraps.

"Blast me!" he exclaimed. "Hope they weren't impor-
tant ..."

He read silently as Tom plowed through three more
stacks, reading as rapidly as possible. It must be past dusk
outside, by now, he thought.

"This is it!" hissed the Dragon. He carefully carried a
sheaf of ancient papers, some sort of drawings, to the
best light.

"Let me see," said the Librarian eagerly. "Careful, now!"

The first sheets were a description of the stone underlay
beneath the triple ring walls of Overhall and the next bun-
dles were detailed drawings of their construction: twenty
feet high and fifteen feet thick at the bottom.

"By George, we're getting close!" Tom said. "Go to the
next crate, now. If Great-Grandfather follows his usual
pattern, the deeper the stack, the older the bottom papers
are. To plan and build Gugglerun, he must have done it
early in the job, don't you think?"

"That I would agree," replied the Dragon. "Say, you were
right! This Librarian stuff can be exciting!"

They worked furiously but carefully for another two
hours and stopped only when Retruance's stomach began
to make protesting growls. They turned off one lamp to
conserve the dwindling fuel and ate bread and sharp cheese
they had brought along.

"If we don't get out of here tonight, we may have to wait
until tomorrow night," observed Tom, dolefully. "Murdan
will be beside himself when we don't show up in the
morning."

"I have been thinking of our escape," Retruance said
around the last mouthful of cheese and a gulp of warm
apple cider. "I forgot Altruance's big flight door in the
west wall. Did you notice it?"

30 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 31

"Yes, I saw it. He used it to get in and out without
climbing the stairs?"

"Of course! He was wider by a half than I am, and it
would be a tight fit around comers if I tried to climb the
stairs. What we'll do when we're finished, daylight or
nighttime, is throw open the doors, clap the old wings,
and fly out to the forest camp in no time. So quietly, I
would think, that the knights won't even know we've been
here. Or if they do see us, they can't know what we're here
to find."

Bolstered by this new plan for escape—neither cher-
ished the idea of creeping out of the castle afoot—the two
returned to the ancient documents.

It was midnight when Tom picked up a slim sheaf of
papers tied together with a silken cord in the bottom of the
fourth large crate.

"Gugglerun!" he read. "Hey! This should tell us some-
thing!"

"At last!" sighed Retruance. "Any more than that?"

"It was the last of the lot in this crate and the last of
the same kind of crates, so I assume they go together,
pretty much. Try the top stuff in the next cabinet over,
just in case."

But the cabinet contained material regarding the con-
struction of the great towers. Across the bottom of the
last drawing, labeled "Elevator," Altruance in his flowing
hand had written: "Power insufficient to lift useful weight
beyond second level. Setting this aside, further study. XVIII
yr. Ed IX."

"Too bad he didn't finish the project. Imagine living in
a castle like this with a machine to lift you to the top of a
tower without having to climb a stair!" said Tom.

"Doesn't bother me much," said Retruance. "Trouble
with towers is they have such small windows."

"Bit short of time for looking at everything here. I think
we should take a chance that we've got all we need and get
out of here."

At Retruance's suggestion they searched the apartment
until they found a large leather folder still intact enough to
protect the fragile documents. Tom padded it generously
with other papers, to keep them from flopping about, then
stood by, ready to open the wide flight doors.

The Dragon gave himself plenty of wing room, so as not
to crush the Librarian, knock over furniture, or make a lot
of noise, and indicated his readiness.

Tom nodded, grasped the flight door handles, and pulled
them inward. The ancient hinges shrieked in rusty protest.

The Dragon clapped his wings and expanded to full size
with a loud pop!

A very pretty girl with piled-up blond hair, wearing a
high-necked, floor-length nightgown of heavy blue-green
silk and carrying a guttering candle, appeared on the wide
stairs, staring in surprise at the intruders. When the Dragon
suddenly became full-size, she had dropped her candle with
a startled scream that seemed to echo all over sleeping
Overhall.

"Who are you?" she cried into the sudden gloom. "How
did you get here? Whatever are you doing?"

"Lady, you picked a very bad time to ask good ques-
tions," said Retruance.

He reached out his right forepaw, scooped up the girl,
reached out his left paw and gathered in the stunned Librar-
ian and flung all three of them through the open flight door
into the black and empty air.

^5^
The Gugglerun Papers

THE cool night wind whipped past them as the Dragon
plummeted unchecked toward the rocks below the castle
walls. There was hardly time for his passengers to know
fear, however, before his great leathery wings snapped open
and Retruance fought to pull out of the nosedive.

The girl and the Librarian screamed together and clung
to the Dragon's claws. With a terrible ripping sound the
Dragon's trailing edges vibrated wildly with the force of
the recovery. Gravity threatened to snatch the girl and Tom
from the beast's strong but gentle grasp.

32

DRAGON COMPANION          33

Don Callander

Retruance strained outward and then upward as he plunged
past the base of Middletower, past the top of the ridge on
which Overhall perched. He at last leveled out, shooting at
tremendous speed out over the grassy lowlands west of the

castle.

"We're okay now," Tom called to the girl. "He's really

a very good flier."

The other passenger stared at him wordlessly, wide eyed
and openmouthed. Even so, he was struck by her beauty and
self-possession in a terrifying situation.

Retruance's speed took him miles out over the meadows,
but he allowed himself to decelerate slowly until it was safe
to make a wide, gently banked curve and head back toward

the Historian's camp.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked the girl. She'd been
staring at him with evident curiosity but now looked quickly
away. "What's the matter, miss?"

The Dragon chuckled deep in his fiery chest, sending
spheres of varicolored flame far ahead of them, like balls
from a great Roman candle.

"She's a properly bred lady, is the matter. She hasn't
been introduced to you yet, so cannot bespeak you. How-
ever, as I happen to be her godfather . .."

"Retruance Constable!" cried the young lady. "You res-
cued me, Retruance Constable!"

"What are godfathers for, if not an occasional rescue?
And introducing you to young gentlemen. The gentleman
you share my paws with, my dear, is Tom the Librarian, sur-
named Whitehead, an employee of your Uncle Murdan's.
Now you can speak to him."

"Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed the girl, smiling bril-
liantly at Tom. She nodded her head—curtseying being
impossible—and said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance,
Master Librarian."

"The pleasure is mine," replied Tom. It seemed perfectly
normal to say the words, even here in midair.

"This girl-child is named Alix Amanda," continued Re-
truance, beginning his shallow glide down to the war camp.
"Haven't seen her in some years and I'm pleased she's
turned out as well as she has. I recall her as a smudged-
faced urchin playing in a sand pile at Momingside, much
to her foster-mother's dismay."

"It has been some years," Alix Amanda said to Tom.
"I'm no longer a child. Godfather!" she added to Retruance.

"Well, there are certainly some questions to be asked and
answered, but let's save them until we meet your uncle,"
suggested the Dragon, still chuckling. "Here we are!"

He made a last, smooth, dipping curve and a feather-light
landing before the Historian's darkened pavilion. As he
carefully placed his passengers on the turf before the tent,
between four startled guards, a light was struck within and
Murdan rushed forth, clad in nightdress and tasseled cap.

"Thank goodness you're back, although I could have
waited until morning to hear your adventures," he called,
but seeing Alix Amanda standing with Tom, he stopped
short.

"Niece! How came you here? I thought you were with
your cousin, my daughter!"

"No, Uncle Murdan. When the castle was taken I was
captured and held prisoner in Middletower. I'm so glad
to see you! Retruance and this nice Librarian came to my
rescue, you see, and I'm most grateful to them and to you,
dear sir!"

She flung herself into her uncle's arms and gave him a
huge kiss, despite his scratchy half night's beard.

"Now, now, I wish I deserved your thanks for rescue,"
he said, honestly, "but I didn't even know you were here
in Overhall. Did they harm you, child?"

"Oh, no! The Mercenary Knights were quite courteous,
I assure you. They intended, they told me, to use me as a
bargaining chip, if you should gain the upper hand."

"But they held you prisoner!" protested Tom.

"I had the run of Middletower, down to the housekeeping
level," the Historian's niece explained. "I watched the awful
sorties and battles from my bedroom window."

"They fed you well, and were .. . polite?" asked Retru-
ance.

"Yes, both," responded Alix Amanda. She certainly
looked none the worse for her captivity. "I passed the time
in study and reading, playing Aunt's harp, drawing pictures,
and exploring the upper reaches of Middletower. I probably
know it better now than any living creature. Did you know,"
she turned back to Retruance, "that the belfry is home to a
tribe of bats who claim common ancestry with Dragons?"

34                Don Callander

"They always do," snorted Retruance, "and we've always
seen fit to disagree with them."

Alix Amanda rattled on and on, keyed to a high pitch
of excitement by her rescue and the wild flight from
Middletower, until Murdan sent for his physician-magician,
a Northerner named Arcolas, who produced a soothing draft

for her.

"Distilled from the nectar of sweet marjoram," he mur-
mured. "You'll awake refreshed and ready to face the world
and all its vicissitudes. Lady."

"Take my own bedchamber within," decided Murdan
with a yawn. "There are no other ladies with my troop
to play chaperon to you, so . . ."

"No need for nursemaids," cried the girl, but she drank
the potion offered by Arcolas without objection and in a
few moments excused herself to enter the tent and sleep.

"Now, as for you two," growled Murdan when she had
gone, "what have you accomplished other than to foist
another worry and responsibility on my overburdened

shoulders?"

"Sorry about that!" said Tom, a shade sarcastically.
"But we were successful in finding Altruance's plans for

Gugglerun!"

"What's to be done next?" asked the Historian eagerly.
"Slowly, slowly, sir," cautioned Retruance. "We haven't
even had a chance to study them yet. Return to your rest
and we'll have some word for you in the morning—after

breakfast."

Murdan yawned greatly and agreed it was wisest to
tackle new plans by morning light with a good night's
sleep behind them. He bid them goodnight and disappeared

into his tent.

"I'm not the least bit tired," claimed Tom. "I think I'll
start looking over Altruance's papers."

"Suit yourself," said Retruance. "I'll go with you and
get a bite to eat before I take to my woodland bed. The
mess tent is the only place you'll find light at this time of

night."

Good as his word, the Dragon ate two dozen fresh dough-
nuts frosted with sugar icing and went off to his oak-leaf
bed. Tom turned up a lamp and spread the contents of the
leather case carefully on the table, wishing he had sheets

DRAGON COMPANION          35

of vinyl to laminate the fragile pages. Must find some way
to preserve them, he thought.

It took less than an hour to find what he sought—a
complete description, with maps and scale drawings of
the course of the underground stream known as Gugglerun.
By some means Tom didn't understand—magic, possibly—
the Dragon constructor had diverted the stream from the
mountains, under the solid rocky ridge, spilling it at last
into a great basin between Aftertower and Middletower.
The overflow was caught by a deep cistern.

From this, conduits led some of the water to various parts
of the castle, to living quarters, kitchens, and workshops in
need of running water. From the cistern a series of enclosed,
sloping drains emptied at last into a very deep shaft driven
straight into the rock with a huge storage tank at the bottom.
Waste water from the castle was led by a separate system
to another vast underground pond.

"Good old Altruance!" exclaimed Tom at this point.
"Anyone else would have dumped the sewage into the
valley and let it stink!"

Some of the fresh water entering the courtyard basin,
however, was led into the moat around the outer walls,
then run off over a pretty waterfall into the valley near the
Historian's war camp.

The rest of the stream, by far the largest part, drained
through another underground tunnel, into the Overhall
river.

At first the Librarian considered blocking the inflow of
the stream. However, Altruance had tunneled it from its
source, high in the mountains where melting snows fed it
the year around. Nowhere, Tom saw, was it aboveground
anywhere closer than thirty miles away and several hundred
feet higher than the castle. As this entrance to the under-
ground portion was all but inaccessible, given the time and
manpower available, he was forced to reject it as the site
for his dam.

Digging down to the channel closer to the castle seemed
possible, but the notes indicated that this part was buried
under yards of hard granitic rock. How long would it take
to cut a shaft to intercept the stream? With experienced well
diggers, weeks at least. Even in Iowa, with a fairly shallow
water table, wells took a long time to dig, and with modem

36

DRAGON COMPANION          37

Don Callander

drilling equipment at that. And there was the problem of
hitting the narrow tunnel precisely from high above.

"Damnation!" he swore. Weariness was catching up with
him. He decided to go to bed and tackle the problem fresh,

in the morning.

As he lay on his bed of oak leaves against the warmth
of the sleeping Dragon, the solution leaped into his mind,
plain and simple and complete.

Before he could jot it down to remember, however, he
fell asleep, and dreamed of artesian fountains and enor-
mously high waterfalls—and a beautiful girl with high-piled
blond hair and cornflower blue eyes in a sea green gown.

^6^
The Great Gugglerun Backwash

"YOU'VE decided what's to do?" asked Refinance over
breakfast of sausages and eggs—two dozen of each for

the Dragon.

"Once I knew the course of outflow, it was obvious,"
said Tom. With but four hours of sleep he was wide awake
and eager to test his theory—or rather, his plan, for he was

confident of its success.

"Let's go tell Murdan, then. Put his mind at ease," sug-
gested Retruance, withdrawing his head from the mess tent.
"Sooner we get him off our backs, the better."

Tom grinned at the Dragon's change of pronouns, from
referring to the problem as "yours," to terming it "ours."

"We can handle this ourselves, I believe. Just you and
me, and Altruance's papers."

"Fine with me, but I advise you to tell Murdan we're
working on it. Give him something to look forward to.
Historians don't like to be kept guessing."

"There's always an off chance our plan will fail because
I missed some little point," Tom admitted. "Engineers have
a saying: 'Damn that decimal!' "

"I heard Great-Grandfather Altruance say that a hundred
times," agreed the winged beast. He then looked puzzled.
"Never really understood what it meant, however."

"Come on! If you think we must, we'll see Murdan."

"We could say good morrow to Manda, too," added
Retruance, offhandedly. "Let her thank us for rescuing
her, once again."

Tom glanced obliquely at his companion to see if he was
being teased, but there was no way to tell and he refused
to ask.

Alix Amanda was the first person they met when they
arrived at the Historian's pavilion. She was brushing her
hair in a spot of bright sunshine, stooping a bit to see herself
in a tiny camp mirror.

"We came by to say good morning," Tom said when she
looked up to greet them with a smile.

"And to blush with you, too," said Retruance, straight
faced.

"To what?" both young people asked.

"Oh, nothing. Never mind," said the Dragon. "Is Murdan
around, missy?"

"I believe he's still asleep" said the girl, putting aside
her brush and beginning to plait her long hair in a single,
thick braid. Tom watched in absorbed fascination.

"Don't you think we should ... er ... get started on our
Gugglerun project?" the saurian asked.

"Oh? Yes!" replied Tom. "Retruance calls you Manda for
short. Is it right for me to call you that, or should I call you
Alix Amanda for long?" he asked.

Retruance rolled his eyes up to the sky but held his
tongue.

"My family calls me Manda. Alix Amanda is overly
portentous among close friends, I think. . .."

"Yes, I remember. Alix Amanda Alone was queen a
while back."

"A very great queen, too," agreed Manda with a nod.
"So Alix Amanda is much too formal. I use it only on
party invitations and when signing things."

"You know, I do the same thing," Tom laughed, delighted
to find something they had in common. "To my friends I'm
just plain Tom—never Tommy!—but when I sign checks,
I write Thomas Alva Edison Whitehead."

38

DRAGON COMPANION          39

Don Callander

"Such an impressive name!" cried Manda. "I'll save that
for formal occasions, shall I? I'll call you just plain Tom. It
has a much more friendly sound. Tom, fetch me a sherbet!'
Or, 'Tom, I've lost my glove. Find it, be a dear!' "

Even the Dragon had to laugh at her flibbertigibbety
impression. Hearing their laughter, Murdan burst from the
tent, lathered to the ears and carrying a wickedly gleam-
ing razor.

"Are you done with my mirror, Manda? Return it to me

before your uncle slices off an ear. Oh, hello. Dragon,

Librarian! Gugglerun stopped up, yet?"

"Shortly, sir," Tom assured him. "We were just come to
say you can expect results by the end of the day, if all

goes well."

"See that it does!" growled the Historian, waving his

razor. "What do you want me to do?"

"Be ready to strike, sir," said Tom, sounding more mys-
terious than he intended. "If our plan works, you'll know it,
without a doubt. I think the Mercenary Knights will want to

leave Overhall very quickly."

"Well, it's results I want, not details, just at the moment.

Get you to work!"

Murdan nodded in curt dismissal, snatched the mirror,

and stalked back into the tent, calling for Graham at the

top of his considerable voice.

"Can I come along?" asked Manda, rather shyly. "Life
in an armed camp is very boring when you're supposed to
be a lady. It would be more fun if I were still a child."

"Don some suitable clothing, then," said Retruance. "You
shouldn't be seen about the camp in that nightdress, I should
say, although I'm no expert on etiquette."

"Something sturdy enough for riding Dragon-back and
climbing about hillsides," suggested Tom. "A pair of sound
boots, if you can find them. We'll fly a ways, but after

that..."

Manda disappeared into the tent, calling her uncle's

name.

"What a splendid young lady!" said Tom to himself,

but aloud.

"Easy, Companion!" Retruance cautioned him.
"What?" the Librarian asked, somewhat dreamily.

"Ask yourself why she's named Alix Amanda," sug-
gested the Dragon.

"Alix Amanda? Yes, I know. A beautiful name! Wait,"
said Tom. "Are you implying that she is . . ."

"Implying, hell! The present king of Carolna is Eduard
Ten. He's Murdan's half-brother."

"And Manda is Murdan's niece! You mean Alix Amanda
is the king's daughter, a princess?"

The Dragon grinned broadly as the princess reappeared
from the tent dressed in a soldier's orange tunic and baggy
black hose, cinched to fit her narrow waist with a wide
belt.

"Let me pull on these boots," she said. "Fortunately,
Uncle Murdan's valet has tiny feet!"

Retruance murmured to Tom, "Don't fret, however. Your
rank is nearly that of a belted knight. You need not fear
her family will refuse her company to you, as long as
she wishes it. Especially not after you rescued her from
Overhall."

"You rescued us both, Retruance Constable!" protested
the Librarian.

"A matter of viewpoint, I'd say," chuckled his huge
companion. "Now, are we ready to fly?"

They were and they did.

MANDA and Tom sat side by side between the Dragon's
foremost ears, their legs dangling over his brow ridge.
They had only to steady themselves with one hand on
the nearest ear to keep their seats on his smooth, hard
scales.

"Down lower," directed Tom, pointing. "There's the spot
Gugglerun flows into the river, you see!"

"Ah, yes," called Retruance. "Set us down on that rocky
ledge, shall I?"

"What a marvelous way to travel!" enthused Manda. "I
could go on like this for days and days. Much smoother
even than a palfrey mare."

"Later, perhaps, my dearest godchild," replied Retruance.
"Right now, we've a dire task to perform. Plenty of rocks
here, and if we run out, there are plenty more on yon
hillside."

40

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

41

"I thought you could do the heavy moving better than a
horde of soldiers," said Tom.

"Much better, because I understand what we're driving
at."

"But not I," protested Manda. "Can you tell me? What
does Gugglerun have to do with driving the Mercenary
Knights from Overhall?"

"Come on," Tom said, jumping from the Dragon's fore-
head to the ground. "I'll explain as we work. Simple and
elegant!"

NOON came.

Murdan saw nothing happening in or around his tall
castle. Bees buzzed lazily between the meadow flowers
and a hive hidden back in the trees. Soldiers drilled to
a sergeant's shouted orders on the flat ground at the foot
of the castle slope. The thunk-thunk-thunka of arrows into
rolled-straw butts in the lacy shade of outlying trees was
surprisingly soporific.

"Damnit all!" yelled the Historian. "What are you doing
and when, dew-eyed Librarian! If I don't clear those bloody
knights out of Overhall soon, I'll lose my whole Achieve-
ment! I'll have to start over again from scratch—at my
age, too."

Graham, his captain of the guard, said nothing but shook
his head. They were seated at a frugal lunch outside the
pavilion, so placed to see the looming front of Overhall
Castle without hindrance.

"Get me a horse! I'll just ride down to see what they're
up to, that Librarian and that Dragon—and my niece in
man's clothing!"

"I believe Retruance is a suitable chaperon," remarked the
old soldier, purposely misunderstanding his chief's remark.

Murdan glared at him in exasperation, then laughed and
shook his head.

"I'm not worried about the Princess Royal. If she could
stand up to the Mercenary Knights as she did, she can
handle a love-struck Librarian."

"This Librarian, however," said Graham, "strikes me
as somewhat tougher and abler than your usual run of
scholars—yourself excluded, of course. Didn't hesitate to
go into Overhall to find the old Dragon's plans, did he?"

"I wonder if 'twas bravery—or fear of the stake?" won-
dered the Historian.

"One learns quickly to live with fear," observed the other,
"but bravery either exists or does not in a man. I say it was
bravery."

"You are overlooking another possibility. Insanity!"

Graham laughed. "Who isn't insane at times? I like the
boy."

"Well, so do I, greatly," admitted Murdan calming again.
"But if you ever tell him I said so, I'll bind you at the stake
and set the faggots a-buming, single-handed."

MIDAFTERNOON brought a brief, warm rain shower and a bit
of thunder and lightning up in the hills, but the orange-clad
soldiers, resting after noon mess, didn't bother to move into
shelter.

When the shower passed, Overhall gleamed like purest
silver in the bright, newly washed sunlight, a most pleasant
sight but for the black Mercenary Knights flags flying from
the three towers' conical roofs.

Murdan scowled up at them. The sun would soon dry
the walls, the steeply peaked roofs, the stone-paved path-
way climbing the hill to the main gatehouse in sweeping
switchbacks.

The pathway? He called for his most powerful spyglass
and studied the facade of his castle.

"Here, old man! Take a look at this and tell me what's
going on," he said to Graham. The soldier focused the glass,
sweeping it back and forth in short arcs.

"Water! Running out the gate under the portcullis," he
murmured. "Quite a bit of water, at that. I wonder where
it's coming from? It didn't rain that hard, did it?"

"Not here, at least, but maybe up there .. ."

"The Dragon is flying in circles over the castle, I see.
Looks like he has young Tom and Princess Manda aboard.
They seem to be watching something within."

"Let me see," cried the Historian.

"Sallyport just burst open," exclaimed Graham, leaping
to his feet and dropping the spyglass to the turf. "Sound the
call to arms!"

Bugles blared and the well-rested troops dashed to fall
in files and ranks on the near flats, craning over their

42 Don Callander

shoulders to see what was happening above them in front
of Overhall.

Murdan recovered the discarded glass, unbroken, from
the ground. He eagerly studied the castle.

"I see clear water . .. gushing from the lowest arrow-
slits," he called. "Damned if it's not! How in the world . .. ?

"He's dammed Gugglerun at the bottom end," cried
Graham, "and the water is overflowing the great cistern,
backing up into the castle. Instead of denying them water,
he's given them far and away too much!"

"Yes! Yes! I see!" Murdan laughed in high glee. "Truly
wonderful! That Librarian is more than I had hoped he'd
be."

A minute later he called to Graham again.

"At the rate Gugglerun flows in at the top, the whole
lower part up to the first story will be awash in no time.
He'll have to open the main gate to let the water flow out.
Quick, march the men up the hill. Quick, Graham! Someone
or something is going to give, soon. I feel it!"

"Carefully but speedily," Graham ordered his sergeants.
"If the forecourt fills with water to more than a story, you
can be sure the great gates will give way. It'll wash the gate,
the portcullis, and even the drawbridge entirely before it.
Watch where you stand your men!"

"Aye, sir," chorused the sergeants, and the men in orange
started to march, double time, up the hill. A few defenders
fired hastily aimed black arrows over the battlements, but
they all flew wide of the moving men.

Inside Overhall, Captain Basilicae strode along the ram-
part at the top of the outer wall, shouting encouragement
to his hardened professionals.

"Stand your ground, archers! Your target is that blasted
Dragon. Shoot at will!"

"Sir," called his second in command, "the water level
has reached the six-foot mark at the gate and still rises!"

The knight captain made a furious gesture and swore
mightily. "Open the main gates, at once! Let the water
out. Maybe it'll wash the orange men back down the hill
again."

"Sorry, sir!" called the senior noncom in charge of the
great gate and its draw and portcullis mechanisms. "Sorry,

DRAGON COMPANION          43

sir, but the gate opens inward! The water won't let us
open 'em!"

"Axes!" cried the chief, sloshing as close as he could to
the gatehouse without having to swim. "Chop it lose."

But the water was already too high.

"Wait a minute," advised his second officer. "See? The
gates are already leaning outward. Soon they'll open them-
selves!"

IT'S a great tribute to Altruance's construction standards
that the gates are holding as long as they have, Tom thought
as the Dragon circled Foretower once more. Now streams
of water carrying floating debris, loose furniture, and trash
were pouring between the dentals atop the battlements,
squirting far out from the walls and thundering into the
overflowing moat.

"There goes the gate!" shouted Manda, beside herself
with excitement and pummeling Retruance's left ear with
both fists. "Oh, Uncle, get your men to cover!"

"No, see?" said the Dragon, hovering for a moment like
an enormous hummingbird, wings thundering. "The moat
carries most of the water away. Our people may get wet
but not swept away."

"I hope," he added.

The orange sergeants on the slope ordered their men to
fall to the ground as a first, three-foot-high wave of water
spouted from the shattered gate, flowing toward them faster
than a man could run. His men grabbed handfuls of brush
and grass and dug in their elbows, knees, and toes, fearing
the worst, but by the time the wave reached them, half-
way down the slope, it had flattened to only a few inches
in depth.

"Up, up, and forward!" shouted Graham, who led them.
"A little wetting won't hurt you, you stable sweeps. Arch-
ers! Keep them strings dry! Forward and guide on the
drawspan."

His choice was apt. The great drawbridge chains had
snapped like kite strings when the great valves had given
away. It had fallen into place with no way left to drag it
up again, if the defenders had so wished.

They, however, were having troubles of their own. The
sudden surge of water when the gate blew swept at least half

44                Don Callander

of the black-clad defenders, already standing waist-deep or
more on the low, outer battlements, from their places and
flung them cruelly through the open gate, into the moat and

beyond.

Among them was Knight Captain Basilicae, weighed

down by polished but businesslike body armor.

"ALL the inner courts funnel the flood into the outer bailey,"
Tom explained to the girl beside him. "The narrower the
passage, the higher the water and the greater its pressure."
"I see! It's terrible, awful—but glorious!" Manda shouted

back.

"Keep an eye on the survivors," warned Retruance.

"Watch where they hole up. Our soldiers will have to
root them out of the upper baileys and the towers."

"I think we can leave that work to them, though," decided
Tom. "See, they've already come in through the sallyport!
It's almost time to unstop Gugglerun, to make it easier for

them to mop up."

Retruance and the princess laughed at his unintentional
pun while the Dragon circled twice again, to make sure
the orange men had things well in hand inside Overhall,
where the enemy, realizing that they couldn't fight under
such circumstances, were surrendering right and left.

Only then did the threesome return to where they had
dumped tons of rocks into the Gugglerun tunnel mouth to
back up the flow into the castle.

"I HAVE to say 'well done,' young Librarian!" cried Murdan
expansively when they found him on the drawbridge, sur-
veying the damage. "Good job! Excellent thinking! Mini-
mum damage to the castle and a clean sweep of the baileys
and lower tower floors, also, according to Graham. Greatest
spring cleaning ever," he added his own unintentional pun
and then laughed long and loud when he realized what

he'd said.

"The most iffy part was whether the sewage drain would

prove small enough to let the water build up," said Tom
to Murdan, who was still pumping his hand joyfully. "I
must admit, sir, that the water level was much higher than

I thought it would be."

"Old Altruance would be proud of his work—and yours,

DRAGON COMPANION          45

too. Librarian. My congratulations, also," said Graham, res-
cuing Tom's hand from the Historian's.

"I couldn't have done it without Retruance Constable,"
insisted Tom. "He did the greatest part of the work. You
should have seen the size of some of the boulders he moved
to plug the drain!"

Everyone was talking furiously at once. Orange bowmen
who had waded against the current to be first through the
burst gate now returned, shepherding a long double line
of bedraggled black-clad mercenaries and their officers,
confused and very damp.

The knight captain was found half-conscious and dis-
armed on the lower slope and brought to Murdan, his wrists
bound before him.

"My congratulations. Lord Historian," said he, gravely.
"The strategem of flooding us out was inspired."

"I thought so, also, sirrah," said Murdan. "I wish I could
say as complimentary things about you. Your invasion of
my Achievement, young man, was a black-handed thing to
do ... sneaking into a castle at night when the lord was
away. Fortunately for us, most of my men at arms were
with me, not sleeping in the castle barracks."

"Our client ordered the way it was to be done. Most of
us thought it unseeming, to say the least, but the client said
it was his way, or no way."

"Ah, yes, your mysterious client," muttered Murdan.
"Well enough, and can you give us some help there, in
exchange for your freedom and your cutlery? Whatever
your name is."

"Basilicae, sir Historian, of Plaingirt."

"Never heard of it," responded Murdan, frowning.

"Little place at the eastern end of the Snow Mountains?
Poor as mice?" asked Retruance.

"Yes, Sir Dragon. Most sons of Plaingirt leave home to
make their living fighting in foreign armies. I was lucky to
prove myself able enough for the Mercenary Knights."

"Well, you'd best go home now. There'll be no good
tidings for your client, I fear."

"Yes, Historian. We lost more than a third of our best,
almost all our Knights, for they were, to a man, overbur-
dened with steel and iron."

"Will you tell me anything of this client who wanted
Overhall so badly?"

46

Don Callander

The beaten knight had shook his head. "No, such infor-
mation is our professional secret. The fee was high—"

"And is no doubt salted away somewhere safe," put in
Graham, who made no secret of his contempt for freebooting
mercenaries of any stripe, no matter how good they were.

"I will tender it in ransom for my surviving men and
myself. To do less would ruin me in my profession. Who
would fight for me again, or hire us, for that matter?"

"I have a better idea than that," said Murdan. "Damage
was done to Overhall by your soldiers, I'm told, and then
the water that drove you out did much more. We will
put you on your professional honor to make full resti-
tution for the repairs. I'll swear not to innate the cost

unreasonably."

Basilicae agreed immediately. A simple contract was
drawn up and signed, witnessed by senior sergeants on

both sides.

"I need no piece of parchment to remind me of my duty,"

objected Basilicae.

"Who knows what your next client will ask? You could
easily be killed. Your successor conveniently might not
remember our pact, when time came to pay," lectured the
Historian. "Thus, it's better for your honor and our peace
of mind to have it on parchment as well as in the memories

of men."

They watched the mercenary soldiers skulk away, hurt in

more than just their pride.

"Here, my boy," said Murdan. "Keep this contract among
my papers up there in Middletower. It's your responsibility,

you know."

"Gladly," responded the Librarian.

On his employer's other side. Princess Manda leaned
forward as if better to watch the departing foe.

But she winked at Tom instead.

^7^
Life, Lessons, and a Loss

WHEN the dust settled—or rather, when the floodwaters had
at last dried—Overhall became no longer the. enormously
strong fortress held by invading warriors, but a bright,
sunny, pleasant, and fascinating place to live.

The orange levies enjoyed their victory banquet, at which
almost every one of them got pleasantly sloshed on some
very good beer from the vast, cool cellars under Foretower.
The next morning they straggled off to their farm and vil-
lage homes, nursing various hangovers.

They went, composing in their minds tall tales about the
Gugglerun War to be told around Midsummer Bonfires and
at Long Night's Eve skating parties for decades to come.

That left the large Overhall household and a troop of forty
house guards, the permanent core of Murdan's levy, still in
residence. The full-time soldiers lived in apartments within
the castle walls or, if unmarried, in low wooden barracks
set against the wall of Middle Bailey.

The Historian's household, which included the new
Librarian, was quartered in roomy, wood-paneled or brightly
muraled apartments in either Middletower or Foretower.

Aftertower, the shortest of the three, contained the castle
armory, several prison cells, and storage for equipment
and supplies. With the only ground floor in the castle to
escape inundation, Aftertower's storerooms were quickly
replenished with the vast amounts of foodstuffs needed to
feed household and guards, and prepare for future emer-
gencies.

Tom was assigned a small, bare suite of three rooms on
the third level of Middletower, with Guard Captain Graham
to one side and the physician, Arcolas, on the other, just
beneath the rooms of the architect Dragon, Altruance, on
the fourth level.

47

48

DRAGON COMPANION

Don Callander

49

Tom's windows faced east and caught the rising sun
every morning. His rooms were soon filled with sturdy but
comfortable furniture, gifts from Murdan or from Princess
Manda (who again occupied the children's level, two floors
above), and other necessities requisitioned as needed from
the Aftertower storerooms.

In this way he acquired a good bed, a dresser, an armoire
big enough to hold his new wardrobe, several easy chairs
and straight chairs, as well as a large table to use as a

desk.

Shortly after the departure of the levies, Murdan called
his Librarian to his own office in Foretower.

"Your service was outstanding, I need not tell you, young
Librarian. If I've not said my thanks, it's not because I'm

ungrateful."

"I'm very pleased that I helped," said Tom. Murdan
waved him to a chair.

"We must discuss your duties and my obligations more
in detail," said the Historian. "We must first inventory what
the Mercenary Knights consumed and destroyed during

their weeks in Overhall."

"I agree. Much of that, I should think, would be the work
of your accountant," said Tom. "I am a Librarian. I care for,
index, shelf, recover, bind and mend damaged books, and
find needed information quickly."

"My definition of Librarian includes all that, plus help-
ing preserve and, when needed, restore records. The king
expects a strict accounting of my stewardship of my office,
among other things. I'll introduce you to Master Plume,
who is my comptroller and accountant. He'll exchange
information with you, generate figures and reports for you
to index and file. Check them, bind them, and store them
in a safe place. You agree?"

"Of course! Again, I'll do what I am able. Sir ... ?"

"Yes, Librarian?"

"When Retruance Constable found me I had just been
somehow ... er ... transported is the word I must use . ..
from my home world, which is—was—an entirely different
sort of place from this. I was confused, frightened, and the
Dragon assured me that if I talked to you, you would be
able to help me understand what has happened to me. What
brought me to Carolna? Am I to live in fear that I will be

swept off somewhere else all of a sudden without warning?"
Murdan leaned back in his high-backed chair, rubbing
his chin in thought.

"Yes, that's a concern. I am not a wizard myself, but I've
enough experience to recognize very strong magic when I
see it."

He fell into a deep study, gazing off across the room,
almost as if he had forgotten the questions. At last he stirred
and turned his look back upon the Librarian.

"I'll have to study this when I have time. Ask some
trained people some questions, you see? Forgive me if I
can't answer you right off the mark. If it's any help, I think
your being brought to Carolna was no random accident.
Someone decided you were needed here."

"I understand. As you're addressing my problem, I feel
much better about it. I've learned, already, to admire and
appreciate your land and people. Few beings have been
as friendly as the Dragon Retruance, sir, and your own
kindness in taking me in, on my word alone—"

"Leave that! I said I've experience. It includes making
judgments about people and beings at first sight," said
Murdan gruffly. "Don't prove me wrong, young man!"

"No, sir."

"In the meantime, you have your work. I expect you to
pursue it diligently. And I'll seek consultation with some
knowledgeable persons about your sudden appearance. It
may take some time. You're welcome here in my service
and you may be sure that I'll spare no trouble and expense
to protect you from any ill. Beyond that, I can't offer you
any reassurances at this time."

"I understand, sir. I'll get to work at once."

"I CAN'T say that I need much help," Accountant Plume
said sourly. He was a wizened little man with a permanent
worried frown. "I have been doing the Historian's books for
years now. I just need some time to bring them up to date."

"As I understood Murdan's instructions, I was to help in
any way I can. Also, I am to bind, index, and shelve in his
library the records you compile."

"I'll comply with the Historian's demands on that, of
course," said Plume, although he didn't seem too pleased
with the idea. "I'll inform you when I have papers to be

Don Callander

50

bound .. . after I have completed my work and Murdan has
approved of them."

"I would like to take time to sort and index Altruance's
archives, also," said Tom. "There is perhaps other useful

data there."

"Ask the Master on that," snapped Plume, waving his
hand in curt dismissal. "What you do is a matter of indif-
ference to me."

"A man needs to know everything there is to know about
his house," said the Librarian. He'd returned to Murdan and
reported the conversation.

"Plume is a sour little dried-up apple," said the Historian,
nodding. "Pay his attitude no heed, young sir. Collecting
and cataloging a decent library for me is important, or I
would not have hired you. Concentrate on historical mat-
ters. I've been remiss in my duties as Royal Historian.
We're in danger of losing much of our past through neglect.
That, now, includes Altruance's papers."

Murdan was quite serious about his Historian duties, Tom
found. He carried a tremendous amount of information in
his head. Surprisingly little of it was committed to parch-
ment or print.

Tom suggested the castle hire its own printer. Murdan
promised to look into it when next he went to Lexor, capital
of the Kingdom of Carolna. Printing was still a young art
and printers were scarce.

"Some months off yet," he explained. "I left the Spring
Sessions with the king and his ministers to rush back here
when I learned the castle was taken. The government will
get along without me for a while."

The Historian wrote his own correspondence, which was
quite large, much of it official. Tom suggested a secretary
or scribe, to make things more efficient, but the Historian
thought less of this idea.

"I can outwrite any quill pusher in the kingdom!" he
snorted. "Why settle for less than the best?"

Tom let the matter drop, but soon found that he was
often conscripted from his books and scrolls to assist his
new employer when Murdan fell behind on letter writing.

The sour-visaged but meticulous Plume worked with the
household accounts, carefully and slowly, much to Murdan's
loud impatience.

DRAGON COMPANION          51

"When he gives me the inventory and the budgets, I
want you to check 'em over," he said to Tom. "How's
your arithmetic?"

"Passable," said Tom, wishing he had brought a pocket
calculator. "But no more than that."

"We have to prepare a bill of damages for that Mercenary
Knight, whatever's his name," growled Murdan, amiably.
He kept himself and his new Librarian busy as spring waned
and summer began.

TOM chose to work in Altruance's huge rooms, just above
his own in Middletower, scooting up the service stairway
after breakfast to throw himself into organizing Murdan's
library or sorting out Altruance's great mass of papers,
surveys, contracts, and drawings, or putting some order to
Murdan's own chaotic records.

Each morning after breakfast, Manda ascended the main
staircase on her way to her own apartments. She was accom-
panied by her personal attendant, a bright girl named Momie.
The maid went tactfully on up but the princess, perched on a
chair beside the Dragon's great drawing table, chatted while
Tom pretended to sort piles of documents by subject matter.

She came each morning for just a few minutes, never
outstaying propriety, and was gone about her own business
too soon, but never before sharing a bit of castle news or
telling Tom something about herself.

"What do you do while I'm imprisoned here in this rat's
nest of ancient shopping lists?" Tom wondered.

"Oh, ladylike things, mostly. Mistress Plume comes to
teach me my letters after breakfast. I used to hate it, but
since watching you at work I've seen how important written
words can be. I appreciate them more."

"I would have thought you'd learned your alphabet when
you were a toddler, bright as you are."

"Oh, thank you so much, young master!" she cried,
curtseying prettily. "I did learn writing years ago. Now
I learn what to write. I pen beautiful invitations, neat and
polite letters of regret, bright, pleasant notes of gratitude to
a farmer for his gift of a sickling pig .. ."
"You mean 'suckling pig,' I think," Tom prompted.
"... suckling pig, then, and how to word petitions for
redress of wrongs or bills for conveyance of real property.

52

Don Callander                                           DRAGON COMPANION

53

Today we begin bequeathals and testaments."
"All that! Well, I expect it's good practice."
"My father, the king, has written me I must have a fair,
round hand and proper grammar. I might be queen, one day,
you know. A queen must be perfect in all polite matters,

he says."

She bounced up to peer out a southern window to see if

it was still raining.

"I used to worry about being letter-perfect, but I' ve learned

to take it all with a few grains of salt. After all, Tom, if I'm
destined to be Queen of Carolna, whether I will it or not, my
people must accept me as I am! They have little choice."

"I can see where that might get you—and them—into a
lot of trouble, down the road," Tom cautioned. "I've found
it's better to let fathers and employers have their ways in
little things. It's easier to get your way in the important

things, after."

"Oh, Tom, you're a politician!" the princess laughed, a

sound like silver bells. "You needn't worry about me being
queen. In all likelihood the king, my father, will sire a son
before too long and I'll remain just Lady Alix Amanda until
I marry. If I ever marry. I'm very particular, they tell me."
"The king, your father, Manda—I know very little of

him. Tell me something of him."

It had been a stormy night and summer rain still fell inter-
mittently, stopping and starting every few minutes. Mistress
Plume, who usually broke up their morning conversations
when she puffed up the stairs to begin Manda's lessons, was
late that morning. Manda settled in one of the old armchairs,
ran her hand automatically over her long blond braid—she
wouldn't let anyone call it a pigtail—folded her hands in

her lap, and began to recite.

"Eduard Trusslo, the Tenth of that August Name to be
King of Carolna, was born of the morganatic wedlock
of Eduard Nine and Mistress Anne Selver, daughter of
a wealthy silk merchant of Brant Bay. Upon the tragic
death of his only son by an earlier marriage, Eduard Nine
proclaimed his morganatic son, Eduard, his legitimate heir.
Upon Eduard Nine's death in battle, Eduard Ten, then a
lad of fourteen, was at once proclaimed king and crowned,
according to the ancient and honorable rites of the royal
succession. King of Carolna."

"That sounds like it came straight out of an encyclo-
pedia," said Tom.

"If by encyclopedia you mean the Official Proceed-
ings of the Crown, it did. It's part of my education to
memorize ..."

"Memorize," prompted Tom.

"... memorize huge parts of the Official Record, so that
if I become regnant queen, I will know exactly what I must
do in all circumstances."

"What of your own mother?"

"My lady mother was named Seacorde. She was the
daughter of one of Eduard Nine's knights. Mistress Plume,
who was at court in those days, says Father and Mother
were very much in love, but Mother died shortly after I
was born, poor thing!"

"I'm sorry, Manda, dear. I didn't mean to give you
pain."

"Oh, I don't feel pain so much. Confusion sometimes,
Tom. I never knew my mother at all, and the king, my
father, only a little better, because I was sent away to be
raised by my mother's brother. Sir Peter of Gantrell."

"I thought you were the ward of Murdan, though."

"You're getting ahead of my story!" she chided. "Gantrell
was accused of interference with royal will by my—by the
king, my father—about ten years ago. He was forced into
exile."

"Was he?"

"Was who, what?"

"Was your Uncle Peter guilty?"

"Oh, yes. He was—is still, I suppose—a very cold, impa-
tient, ambitious man, my poor mother's older brother. He
thought he would make a better king than my father, and
said so, too many times."

"But he was—what? Good to you?"

"I suppose. I seldom saw him, either. With Uncle Peter in
exile, actual responsibility went to my other uncle. Mother's
younger brother. Granger of Momingside. Granger has two
sons just my age. Peter, who is unwed and childless, hoped
to marry me to one of Granger's sons, to get the Gantrell
family firmly seated on the throne, you see."

"All very, very complicated—like a Russian novel. Nev-
er mind that! I'm trying to find out," said Tom, a bit

54 Don Callander

exasperated, "how you. fared in all this convoluted mess
of fathers and mothers, uncles and brothers and .. . Were
you happy? Did they treat you well?"

"I was . .. happy enough, I suppose. They all. Uncle
Peter and Uncle Granger and Aunt Phyllis, treated me well.
After all, I was their path to power. They, or Peter rather,
had been pried away from the crown when my mother died
so young. If anything happens to me—no power and no
crown through marriage!"

Tom put down the stack of papers he was sorting and
regarded the beautiful young lady with amusement and
compassion.

"Yet you seem to have adjusted well to it, this strange
life. Were you loved?" he asked.

"I am greatly beloved, by many wonderful people. My . . .
the king, my father. . . came to see me at Momingside as
often as he could. These are unsettled times, but he came
and he sent wonderful presents. When I wrote to him my
very first letter, he wrote back at once. He still writes. Or
would, if he knew where I was. His letters are always filled
with love."

She considered her next words very carefully.

"Father is a most considerate, sympathetic man, inter-
ested in such things as how peasants' wives bake bread and
what makes some flowers blue and others red. Interested,
too, in what a young daughter thinks and does and likes to
talk about. Most men consider him a very good king, just
and wise. 1 love him very much, both because he is my
father and because he is a most kind and gentle ruler."

"Things could have been a lot worse, I guess," observed
the Librarian.

"Much worse!" she agreed.

"What do you see in your future, Manda?"

"Lots and lots of things, all mixed up, usually," the girl
said with a small, sad laugh. "As for my father, I hope to
get to know him better and see him more often for longer
times—to live near him would be wonderful. I think I could
help him be happier. He's often quite sad."

"He's remarried, though?"

"Yes, and he was so good as to ask my permission! Given
the choice, I told him, I would not care to be Queen Alix
Amanda Two. I know it's selfish of me but I don't think I'd

DRAGON COMPANION          55

make a very good queen, I said. If he should remarry and
if his beautiful new wife were to bear him a son, I would
never allow anyone to use me to stand in the little prince's
way to the throne."

She looked very solemn and Tom reached out to touch
her hand gently, reassuringly.

"So he has remarried, with my truly heartfelt blessing.
I've heard his new queen—her name is Beatrix—is very
beautiful and charming. I hope to meet her next Fall, when
the court returns to Lexor for Session. Murdan has prom-
ised to take me with him, if the king, my father, sends his
permission."

"One more thing," asked Tom as Mistress Plume's gray
topknot appeared above the stair landing. She climbed slow-
ly because of arthritic knees. "How can your father not
know where you are? How came you here to Overhall?"

"I ran away from Uncle Granger! Momie and I slipped
away from his travel party when it passed close to Overhall
on a roundabout way to Lexor. I threw myself on Uncle
Murdan's mercy. Murdan is my father's favorite half broth-
er, always has been, and could have great power, if he
chose. I love him dearly. Always have!"

"Child," said Mistress Plume, sounding a bit testy, "I
didn't climb four flights of stairs to listen to your gossip.
We must speak of dusty wills and dry bequeathals now or
we will never do it."

"I'm coming, mistress," said Manda, politely. She seemed
fond of Plume's wife, who was probably irritable because
of her sour husband, Tom thought.

Tom wasn't overly fond of the dry little accountant,
either. Mistress Plume, at least, whether through unsus-
pected kindness or arthritis, allowed them these few minutes
alone together each morning.

They had to thank her for that, at least.

TOM worked very hard and the time flew. Just when he
began to hear anguished rumblings from the region of his
stomach, the great flight door was flung open to the rain
and wind and Retruance Constable flopped ungracefully
through the opening. He shook raindrops from his wings
before folding them loosely at his sides.
"How goes the book work?" he asked.

56

Don Callander

"Lovely! I have adapted the Dewey decimal system for
cross filing by subject, title, and author, and it's making
things go much faster. What have you been at?"

"Oh, well," sighed the Dragon. "I'm concerned about my
brother Purbetrance. He's not yet appeared."

"I recall Murdan called him to come at the same time as
he called you from your search for your father. Where was

he, do you know?"

"Somewhere far to the south and west, I think. I was
sure he would come to Overhall by now. I'm going to ask
Murdan to let me go looking for him. He's my younger
brother, you know, and I feel responsible."

Tom waved at the piles of books and manuscripts on the

huge table.

"Murdan isn't likely to let me go adventuring with you,

but I'll ask him."

"A Dragon needs a good, smart Companion," agreed

Retruance. "It won't hurt to ask!"

"I'm starving!" Tom cried. "Let's go surround some

lunch, first."

"Right!" Retruance Constable agreed with enthusiasm.
Tom paused to pull a heavy velvet cloth over the piles
of documents on the table, to keep them from blowing
away, then settled himself on the Dragon's rain-slick head,
grasping Retruance's ears firmly.

Retruance hurled himself out the great door and plum-
meted toward the rocks below, snapping his great wings
out, deflecting upward and inward at the last moment,
enjoying the rush of rain-filled air. He banked sharply,
dropped twenty feet, and landed gently outside Great Hall.

Soldiers, household staff, and the master himself were
about to sit down to a light lunch of fresh white loaves,
newly churned butter, crisp green salad, and savory broiled

pink prawns.

Manda had come down earlier to help Housekeeper

Grumble, a vast mountain of a woman with a girlish giggle,
inspect the laundry, the kitchen, the scullery, the butchery,
the bakery, the kitchen garden, and flower gardens, and the
weaving sheds, all places and things she needed to know
well if she were ever to be a successful castle keeper.

Now Manda sat demurely to her uncle's right and greeted
Tom with a worried frown.

DRAGON COMPANION          57

Tom took his place on the Historian's left and wished a
good afternoon to all at the head table. Murdan signaled his
servants to begin.

"Something amiss?" Tom asked Murdan at the first oppor-
tunity. "You and Manda look unhappy."

"I am unhappy!" growled Murdan forking a tender prawn
into his mouth. "Rosemary and her children are long over-
due! Word has come that they've not yet reached Ramhold,
which was to be their next-to-last stop on their journey
home."

Rosemary was his beloved only child. She and her chil-
dren had been visiting at Overhall when it was captured
but had escaped, Tom remembered, a skip and a hop ahead
of the Mercenary Knights. She'd fled across Snow Moun-
tains to her grandmother's Achievement until she learned
Overhall had been retaken.

Everyone spoke well of Rosemary, especially Manda.
Tom was prepared to like her at once, when he met her.

"Rosemary?" called Retruance, who was outside the Great
Hall, except for his huge head which was "seated" at a special
place at table, near the door. "What about Rosemary?"

"No one knows!" Murdan replied in an anguished voice.
"Talber at Ramhold sends that he expected her to come
over Summer Pass days ago and there's yet no sign of her,
though the ice on the road is long melted."

"Talber will surely send a party over the Pass to inquire
for her," said Manda. "She may have had a good reason for
leaving late from her grandmother's house."

"Too many things could have gone wrong!" exclaimed
the Dragon, greatly concerned. "I'd better go and see what
I can find out. At least, if she is safe, I can get word to you
and to Ffallmar faster than any rider from Ramhold."

Ffallmar was Rosemary's husband, one of Murdan's liege
men, with a small Achievement some miles to the southeast
of Overhall. He'd been with Murdan in Lexor when word
of the capture of Overhall had come and had taken part in
the siege with his levy.

"Would you, please?" begged Murdan, and the fact that
he asked rather than demanded showed how worried he
truly was.

"Shall I go with the Dragon?" volunteered Tom, shoving
back from his place.

58                 Don Callander

"No, no. Companion," said the Dragon. "I'll go much
faster alone on this flight. I'll fly very high and very cold.
More cold than you could take without several hours of
packing."

"Yes, stay with me here," ordered Murdan. "If anything
has gone wrong .. . Retruance Constable is the best to send
on such a mission. If it's sickness or injury to Rosie or one
of the little ones, he can bring them back in mere hours,
rather than days."

"I'm off, then," said Retruance, withdrawing his head
from the Great Hall. They heard him snap his great wings
up and crash them down in a powerful takeoff that rattled
the panes of the castle windows.

Manda smiled at Tom wanly, and Murdan grunted thanks
for his offer to accompany the Dragon. The household fin-
ished its meal in glum silence. Rosemary and her children
were great favorites.

All save Master Plume, Tom noticed. The accountant was
spooning soup rapidly into his prim, purse-lipped mouth.
He seemed for a brief moment before he felt Tom's eyes
on him, to be smiling.

^8^
One of Our Dragons Is Missing

MURDAN sent for Tom after Retruance had been gone for
a day and a night. Deep lines of worry etched the Histo-
rian's face.

"I've word on the matter of your sudden appearance
in this world," he began. "It's more complicated than I
thought. All they can tell me is ... a powerful spell was
worked the day of your arrival, but so far no mage can tell
me who wove it or why."

"I... I must admit that I am not pressed to return home,"
admitted the Librarian. "I'm enjoying my work and Your
Grace is a good employer. But I wonder. . . ?"

DRAGON COMPANION          59

"Presumably someone, somewhere, schemed to work
some powerful spell and, as a side effect, it brought you
here. Or you may have been intended to be a danger to us,
or at least a confusion."

Tom sat forward in his chair. These thoughts had been
in his own mind for several days.

"If it would serve, sir," he said, "I'll leave your service.
I don't want to bring danger on you and the king ... or his
daughter. I can find work elsewhere."

"It's a tempting solution, I admit," growled Murdan,
but he shook his head. "No! I judge you to be a gentle,
honest man. You're a hard and effective worker, most
pleasant to have about. And Princess Manda would cer-
tainly be most upset if you were to leave. No! I'll not
drive you out of my house just because of some imagined
threat."

He stood and walked around his desk to lay his hand on
Tom's shoulder.

"I trust my judgments. I say you're a good man to have
on our side. Stay, Bookminder. We need you."

"I thank Your Grace, most sincerely," replied Tom.

"Whatever it is, this purpose in your arrival, I feel it
has a connection with myself, and more especially with
Manda. She is—I don't know how else to say it—in love
with you."

"And I with her, sir. I didn't intend it. It... just hap-
pened."

"Well, as I recall, that's the way love usually comes.
Knowing our enemies," the Historian said, thoughtfully,
"I can't think that stealing Manda's heart was what they
had in mind. That and becoming so firmly bound to a Dra-
gon, either. They may have brought you here for mischief,
but perhaps you have unwittingly confounded their plans,
just by being who and what you are. That's my belief at
any rate."

Tom nodded wordlessly. The two shared a silence.

"So! We'll proceed with our lives and plans, keeping your
situation in mind, nevertheless," decided Murdan, returning
to his seat. "There are several other matters, my boy, which
concern me at the moment."

"Retruance's absence? Your lady daughter's disappear-

60

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

61

"Those, primarily. And the fact that Peter of Gantrell has
written to me, demanding that Manda be returned to his

brother's household."

"Manda has told me of her uncles. I don't think she will
agree to go. She has put herself under your protection, sir."

"I'm damned well aware of that! Don't get me wrong,
Tom. If she were just an ordinary girl, say the daughter
of an ordinary friend, an ordinary family, I would stake
my Achievement on her wishes. The king, her father, has
secretly agreed that she remain here with me, but he is in
too dangerous a position—he has not yet an heir to provide
his kingdom a future king—to defy the very wealthy and

powerful Gantrells."

"Why should he, a king, fear his brothers-in-law? After

all, Peter of Gantrell is in exile!"

"So we believed, but the king's agents abroad have sent
word. He has returned to Carolna! For Eduard to enforce his
decree of exile now would cause dangerous rebellion, what
with Peter's web of influence and favor spread all over the
kingdom."

"His brother Granger?"

"Granger of Momingside is an enigma. At one time he
was entirely under his older brother's thumb, but fifteen
years of association with Princess Alix Amanda and her
father may have changed that."

"I can easily see how Manda would have a powerful
influence on almost anyone, but.. ."

"I've discussed him with Manda, who should know best.
For example, I don't believe she and her maid could have
escaped to Overhall as easily as they did, if Granger had not
willingly turned his eyes away. He may even have wished
her to escape, in order to rid himself of responsibility for
her. I think he is no longer his brother's man."

There was a knock on the chamber door and, when
Murdan called "Enter," Manda slipped in, looking apolo-
getic.

"My ears were burning," she said, taking the chair beside

Tom's. "You have been talking about Princess Royal Alix
Amanda of Carolna, haven't you?"

"We have," admitted Murdan, "among other things. I was
about to send for you, but Tom and I had a matter between
us to discuss first."

"I see. The matter, I suppose, of his strange appearance
in our world?"

"That's right, Manda," Tom said. "I've said that, if I pose
a danger to you or your father, the king, I would leave at
once, go where I couldn't be used against you, if that's why
I was brought here."

"Leave me not!" Manda cried indignantly. "I warn you,
Murdan! If Tom goes, expect me to follow, even if you
prison me at the top of Aftertower!"

"Calmly, love!" Tom said, taking her hand. "The Histo-
rian refused my offer in no uncertain terms."

"He'd better have!" snapped the princess, but then she
smiled brilliantly at both. "Because he knows I love you!"

"Well, now that's been settled, for good or ill, I'll abide
by it," promised the Historian. "You both know there are
ruts in any road, especially one paved with good intentions.
I don't intend to let our enemies dictate where I go and who
rides with us."

"Well put," Manda approved.

"We were, at the moment of your knocking," said Tom,
returning to business, "speaking of your Uncle Granger. Do
you feel he is still under his brother's thrall?"

Manda thought of this carefully before replying.

"I am quite fond of Granger, I must admit. He never did
me harm or treated me less than as his own daughter. His
goodwife. Lady Phyllis, by all her actions and demeanor,
has been as my own mother!"

"His sons? Was there not talk of marriage to one of
them, to cement the Gantrell family to the crown?" asked
Murdan.

"Long since, yes. I learned of it from the king, my father,
some months ago. I love my foster brothers, but I could not
consider either of them as consorts if I became queen. They
are both outgoing, sweet-natured young noblemen but not
as husbands for me."

She leaned far forward and lowered her voice.

"I'll tell you a secret, Murdan. A while ago I called both
Robert and Richard to me one day where we could speak
unheard. I told them what my father had said. They both
swore to me that they knew nothing of it and would not
countenance such an alliance against my will. They will
resist their uncle on the matter, they promised me."

62 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 63

"A short while ago?" asked Murdan.

"Yes, and even before that I sensed a change in Uncle
Granger's attitude, a stiffening in his resistance to Uncle
Peter. Will Uncle Granger go against his own sons' wishes
and promises? I think not. Lord Historian! Not even for fear
of Peter of Gantrell."

"Yes, but Peter is a power to be reckoned with, even for
his brother," Murdan pointed out. "And a month ago Peter
was far off, in exile, was he not?"

"And now he has returned, secretly? Well, a close-by
Peter might explain why Granger and Phyllis let me flee
to Overhall. He certainly went far out of his way to bring
me near here. Momingside is south of Lexor, not west."

"That's what I was thinking," the Historian agreed.

"What's to be done, then?" Tom asked.

"As I said, I won't let my foes dictate my course. In the
Fall, three months off still, I'll take Manda to Lexor to
Sessions. Your father, the king, has agreed to it. By then,
the queen will be delivered of their first child. The omens
say it will be a strong, healthy boy-child."

"Oh, I hope so, for everybody's sake!" breathed Manda.

"It'll solve Manda's problems," Tom said carefully, "but
probably create others."

"We'll conquer them as they come, though," decided
Murdan. "Right now, however, there is another problem
that requires action."

"Retruance Constable and my good friend. Lady Rose-
mary," stated Manda.

"Yes. At the longest, I expected to hear from Retruance
about Rosie by this noontime. There has been no word. In
fact, Talber sent a message by carrier pigeon, arrived this
morning, that he had personally ridden to my mother's
Achievement north of Summer Pass and found that she had
sent Rosemary and her babies with a strong escort south a
week past!"

"Oh, no!" cried Manda, echoed by Tom.

"Retruance has either been waylaid or has had to go off
somewhere, tracing Rosemary's true path," guessed Tom.
"Hard to think of anyone waylaying a Dragon, though."

"It's not easy, but not impossible, given the right magic,"
Murdan said. "The fact is, the possibility of magic is very
strong in this, too."

He stroked his close-shaved face in thought while the
others waited.

"I've decided that I will wait until noon tomorrow. If
there's no word from Retruance by then, I'll send someone
to look for him and for Rosemary."

"Who has magic strong enough to counteract?" wondered
the princess aloud. "I have no one to recommend. A Seeker
of Beymera, perhaps? Or one of the Recluse brothers? They
are said to be available for such work although their fees are
exorible."

"Exorbitant," whispered Tom.

"Well, then, exorbitant!" amended Manda.

"I've a better choice in mind myself," interrupted
Murdan. "When it comes to confusing magics, a human
is ideal, and we have one on hand now."

Manda's eyebrows shot up. She turned sharply to the
young man at her side.

"You!"

"Me?" cried the surprised Librarian.

"The antidote for a powerful poison," quoted Murdan,
smiling grimly, "is its opposite."

"You're the best one to look for Retruance, my Tom,"
said Manda. "And for poor Rosemary and her babies, too."

"But... I know absolutely nothing of magic," Tom pro-
tested.

"Pay attention, boy!" exclaimed the Historian. "It's just
that quality that makes you the ideal searcher. You don't
know any magic. Therefore a magic maker has almost no
hold over you, almost no power to change you or baffle
you. Magic is a part of our lives from birth. We know what
it does and have some idea how it does it. Therefore, it has
great influence upon us."

"Tom, why do you think my father's father was allowed
to legitimatize a son bom outside noble ranks? Everyone
knows that a common-born child has greater resistance to
magical powers! By making my father king, the kingdom
was assured of a sovereign who would not be subject to
all sorts of magic influences, enchantments, or spells. He
has both the power of the royal line in him, and the com-
mon sense and resistance of the hardworking, tough-minded
merchant who was his maternal grandfather."

She paused, looking earnestly at him.

DRAGON COMPANION          65

64 Don Callander

"I see, I think. It makes some sense," Tom said at last.
"I will, at least, not be terrified by what a wizard or a
magician might do, because I have no idea what it could
be."

"It's a lot more than that," said Manda, positively. "But
never mind. To explain it too closely would be to adulterate
it. Take our word for it, Tom."

She turned to the Historian.

"What is true of Tom is also true of me. I am almost as
magic resistant as he!"

"Oh, no. Princess! I cannot. . ."

"You have no choice. Historian. Tom must not go alone.
He doesn't know our ways, the means, the geography,
the history, the lore. I can help him in many ways. We
must recover Rosemary before Uncle Peter can use her to
blackmail us."

"But you are a Princess Royal! If I were to let you
wander.. ."

"You have no choice!" repeated Manda, slapping the
desktop with her hand. "I will go!"

The Historian turned away to hide his hot anger and cold
fear. He glared out the window behind his desk.

"Well, if you choose to go, I cannot stop you, although
I will be blamed if anything happens to you, Manda."

He started to turn back to the young people on the other
side of his table, but stopped short and looked out the
window again.

"Ah, but maybe it will not be necessary, after all! There
comes Retruance!"

They rushed out onto the broad entry court between
Foretower and the battlements to watch the Dragon glide
down from the blue sky, circle the castle once, and land in
front of them.

"But... but that's . . .," began Manda.

"Hello, Princess! You sent for me, Murdan?" the Dragon
asked. When he spoke, Tom knew at once this was not his
friend.

"You must be Furbetrance!" he cried.

"I am Furbetrance Constable," said the beast. "I haven't
had the pleasure of meeting you, sir. Murdan will shortly
close his mouth and introduce us, I guess. Hasn't my broth-
er arrived yet?"

"Been and gone," said Murdan. "Thank you for coming,
Furbetrance, but what in blue blazes took you so long?"

"Well. ..," began the Dragon, looking sheepishly at his
foreclaws. "I was a long way away and.. ."

"Makes no difference!" cried the Historian. "I have—we
have—a great need of you right now. Your coming is most
welcome."

And he began at once to tell the story of his misfor-
tunes .from the fall of Overhall up to the disappearance of
Retruance. The Dragon listened carefully, only nodding to
Tom when the Historian introduced him, but making no
comment until the story was told.

"After a bite to eat, and a few hours' sleep—I've been
traveling for days and days without stop," he said at last.
"I'll be refreshed and ready to go look after my brother and
your daughter. Historian. To carry the little princess and my
brother's Companion will be an honor."

The three led the beast to the Great Hall, where Murdan
shouted up a huge meal for the travel-weary Dragon, send-
ing servants and soldiers scurrying. While Purbetrance ate
and discussed with Murdan the details of the disappear-
ances, Manda and Tom rushed off to prepare for the jour-
ney.

EVEN so, it was dusk by the time they were ready to depart.

"Dragons don't need much sleep, usually," apologized
Furbetrance when he met them on the terrace. He'd had
his nap by then. "But twelve days is about my limit for
being awake, let alone flying at top speed."

"Fly first to Ramhold tonight," the Historian recom-
mended. "Rest there and go on by daylight."

"Just out of curiosity," asked Manda, "what did take you
so long getting here?"

"It's a bit embarrassing to admit," said the Dragon. He
was actually blushing green. "I was looking for our lost
father, you know, and followed a lead someone gave me
about a Dragon seen on the isles off the Mantura coast.
We'd better get going, now. I'll tell you the tale after
we're aloft, lady and gentleman. It'll help pass the time
as we fly."

Murdan gave Tom a flat packet bound with broad canvas
straps.

66 Don Callander

"Maps," he explained. "I arranged them with the nearest
lands at the top. Furbetrance has a good idea of the layout
of the land hereabouts, as he was hatched not far away, but
beyond Ramhold he says he's not traveled before."

"North and west were Retruance's sectors of search for
Papa," explained the Dragon. Tom attached the map case
to a harness Furbetrance had furnished from among his
brother's tack. It provided comfortable saddles for riders,
and loops, thongs, and pockets sewn in thick leather to hold
luggage and equipment.

"Well, be off!" shouted Murdan. "I'd go myself, you can
be sure, but I'm expecting a visit any day from Peter of
Gantrell."

"Well, you can tell him I've run away again, to avoid
his dragging me back to Momingside," said Manda stoutly.
"Don't do anything to make him comfortable, I say."

"Be nice, now. Princess!" the Historian chided her. "Be
sure he will not overstay his welcome by a single minute.
Mistress Grumble has a particularly prickly spot in her
heart—and her guest rooms—for Lord Peter. She knew
him in Lexor, I understand."

This thought made him cheerful again. After his riders
had climbed aboard, the Dragon waved a quick farewell to
the watching crowd and threw himself over the battlements,
to swoop at once into the darkening sky with a dramatic
nourish even Retruance hadn't shown, tilting his wings
from side to side and letting out a white-hot stream of
burning gas from his nostrils. The flames roared satis-
fyingly.

"Well, now about this adventure that made me late,"
he said, once they were high and smoothly headed very
fast west by north. "The Dragon I thought might be Papa
lived in a big cave in the Cliffs of Obsidia. Just the sort
of place Papa would love to live in, I thought, but when
I arrived there was nobody at home. So I made myself
comfortable, thinking the Dragon, Papa or whoever, would
return shortly."

He beat his wings with a sound like canvas napping in the
wind, and went on: "I stayed several weeks but no Dragon
came. I passed the time exploring the cavern, and one day I
discovered a Dragon's treasure. It was quite a find! Not all
Dragons have them. Retruance has one started somewhere,

DRAGON COMPANION          67

I don't know where, but personally, I haven't really been
interested.

"This one was huge, and some of the stuff was incredibly
valuable! I began to suspect the inhabitant of the cavern
could not be Papa, after all. In the first place. Papa is not
the collecting kind, and in the second place, he has not been
gone long enough to have collected so much."

"Where does a Dragon get a treasure, anyway?" asked
Manda, fascinated by the Dragon's tale.

"Oh, mostly fees for jobs taken under contract," said
Purbetrance offhandedly. "Most Dragons like collecting
jewels and golden trinkets and pick them up wherever they
find them. Not many refuse a Dragon when he asks for a
jewel or some such odd thing. I never really understood why.
I prefer to collect places and people myself, you know."

"Yes, I've heard you're a talented artist," Manda said.
"I'd love to see some of your works, one day."

"We're going in the wrong direction to see anything,
which is just as well," said the Dragon, obviously pleased
with her compliment. "They aren't all that good."

"Not what I heard," said Manda aside to Tom.

"Anyway, they're too large and too far off the track to
be seen easily," added Furbetrance. "I usually use sides
of mountains or great cliffs for my best stuff. But if you
really are interested. Princess, I'll take you to see them
one day."

"About the Dragon in the treasure cave?" prompted Tom.

"Oh, yes! Well, I had about decided this Dragon couldn't
be Papa. For one thing, indications were that this was a
she-Dragon. Certain things like perfumes and ointments
that lady Dragons use, you know?"

"Oh, dear!" cried Manda.

"Yes!" said Furbetrance. "Now you begin to see my
situation. Why I was late."

"I don't understand. I'm not that familiar with Dragons
yet," Tom objected.

"Lady Dragons are ... well, ready only once every cen-
tury or so," explained Manda. "This one . . ."

"This lady returned home to find me sleeping in her
bed and eating her larder and naturally assumed that I
was a... suitor, I guess you could say. Once she got that
idea in her head, nothing I could say or do would convince

68

DRAGON COMPANION          69

Don Callander

her otherwise. Nothing would do but that we would.. .
er, mate."

"And you had to stay until the eggs were laid?" asked
Manda, delighted by the idea.

"More than that, I had to stay and tend the Dragon lady
while she brooded our clutch! That takes four whole years!
I fed her and talked to her and rubbed her back. She had
strange cravings. I went completely across the Quietness
to find the proper kind of pickled beets for her. She must
have them, or she would die, she insisted!"

"Poor Furbetrance!" Manda sympathized, but with a gig-
gle.

"Don't get me wrong! I was pleased to be her mate and
this is my very first brooding! Even Retruance has never
had the honor to be selected. But it is time consuming!"

"We'll have to meet this wife and mother," said Tom,
winking at Manda. "What is her name, if I may ask?"

"Oh, of course! Hetabelle is her name. I'll bring her
and the children to visit, once they are old enough to fly
this far."

"I'm surprised you left the nest, even now," said Manda.

"We heard Murdan's calling and I left as soon as the
eggs were opened and the little ones safe and cozy with
their mother. Normally, I would have stayed a year or two
longer and enjoyed teaching the kits fishing and hunting
and flying, all the good old Dragon things. But Hetabelle
insisted that I should answer the call. She's a stickler for
duty, I'm proud to say."

"Those kits must be adorable!" cried Manda, clapping
her hands. "I forgive you for being late, Furbie!"

"Thank you. Princess," the Dragon said, blushing even
more brightly green around the chin and throat. "I knew
you would understand. I'm not so sure about Murdan,
however."

"Oh, he's not as bad as all that," scoffed the girl. "His
bark's much worse than his bite, believe me."

"It's so, especially if you're a Royal Princess," said
Tom.

"Or a valuable Librarian and a Dragon Companion,"
countered Manda. "And a rare human, to boot."

"1 thought the Companion was a bit unusual!" exclaimed
Furbetrance. He tried to roll his eyes about to examine Tom

more closely. 'That weird hairstyle! I should have realized!
Now I see, also, why old Murdan sent him on this journey.
With a commonsense princess and a human gentleman, we
can't be beaten!"

By the time they swung about and down to land at
Murdan's sheep station Ramhold, the pair were just a bit
weary of the Dragon's endless talk of his new-hatched
children.

"Four girls, and a boy!" he repeated for the seventh time.
"I'm thinking of names for them, still. Retruance, after my
brother, and Alix Amanda, for you. Princess. Or perhaps
Tomasina. It's good luck to name a child after a Companion,
of course."

Manda and Tom put their heads together and came up
with a number of suggestions—such as Altruanza, after
a Dragon Tom particularly admired, and Phyllis, after
Manda's foster mother.

They'd been flying by full moonlight over an endlessly
rolling plain of grass for some hours when they spotted the
lights of the station ahead. By the moonlight they could see
a long, low main building of grassy sod, which formed
one side of a triangle of smaller buildings, evidently work-
shops, stables, kitchens, and storehouses. The station was
almost invisible against the rolling plain, its grass-grown
roof tucked against the side of a slightly taller hill that
protected it from the winter-chilled winds that blew steadily
from the northwest.

To announce their arrival Furbetrance emitted a shrill
scream—like a locomotive exhausting its steam chest at
one blast—before he dropped easily into the center of the
triangular court.

The sound tumbled shepherds from their bunks at once
and they rushed out into the midnight dark, clutching strung
bows, long, heavy crooks, and guttering torches to see what
had come upon them so suddenly.

Furbetrance lowered his head to allow Manda and Tom
to dismount, then gave a short snort of flame to light the
scene. The shepherds and their women fell back a pace.

"Hello! We come from Overhall," called Tom, eyeing
the drawn bows uneasily. "I am Lord Murdan's Librar-
ian, and this is Princess Alix Amanda, whom you must
know."

70 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 71

"Welcome to Ramhold," called one of the sheepherders,
striding forward then. "I am Murdan's Factor, called
Talber."

"We seek the Lady Rosemary, of course," said Manda,
graciously responding to the factor's low bow. Tom shook
the broad-shouldered, tough-looking man's leathery hand.

"And the Dragon Retruance Constable," he added. "This
is his brother Furbetrance, who brought us."

The Dragon nodded in greeting. "What news of the His-
torian's daughter. Factor?"

Talber raised his hand respectfully to the Dragon. "Come
inside, out of the chill," he invited. "The large barn should
hold your bulk easily. Sir Dragon, if you wish cover. It
will snow before morning, I think. Spring comes in fits
and starts here."

"I'll just tag along and listen at the window for a while,
but thank you for the courtesy, just the same," replied
Furbetrance.

Once within the main house, with a fire stirred and fed
fragrant turves of peat to warm the common room, Talber
had them brought mulled cider and big sugar cookies while
he answered their questions.

"I rode over the pass to Old Place, Murdan's mother's
Achievement, and just returned yesterday. Summer Pass is
clear of ice and snow, and there were no tracks I could
make out to tell where Lady Rosemary's party went astray;

whether she was taken by some force or merely wandered
off the track, which is always possible in those parts."

"The Lady Murtal, Murdan's mother," he went on quick-
ly, "confirmed what we feared. The party left over a week
ago, just as the snow melted from the highest places in the
pass. She is most distraught, you can believe."

The fifteen station men and women gathered about to
listen and contribute what they could.

"The latest news? Not much. Sir Librarian, Lady Prin-
cess, Dread Dragon! Yesterday late, a fur trapper came over
the pass and asked to spend the night. It's our custom to
give such countrymen who come to our door hospitality—
for their news and despite their calling, which is at odds
with ours."

"He is here," someone said, and the crowd pushed to
the fore a grimy and very gamey-smelling young man with

a black beard, great mane of uncombed black hair, and
wary eyes.

"He's unused to crowding people," Talber apologized
softly. It was evident the trapper was reluctant to speak
before all these strangers.

"Well, let's get you all back to bed now," urged Talber to
his own people, waving them off, genially. "A sheepherder
has to be up before first light!"

When he'd cleared the room with promises that everyone
would hear the outcome in due time, Tom and Manda were
able to draw the fur trapper from his quiet bashfulness.

"You came down from the north?" asked the princess,
smiling encouragement. "Tell us what you saw, please do.
We're looking for my cousin and her party. They came
from Old Place."

"I know it well, mistress," said the man, accepting a
mug of hot cider. "I stopped at Old Place for two nights
earlier and saw Lady Rosemary and played with her three
cubs. Fine woman! Lady Murtal's always welcoming to us
woodsmen, you see."

"What did you find of Lady Rosemary, though?" asked
Tom.

"Well, sir, I went north for a week after that to collect my
traps and take them up for summertime. That was around
the lakes when the first thaw was over," the trapper said,
not to be hurried through his tale.

"So I came back south toward Summer Pass by a differ-
ent way, over the lakes. I've a cabin there, where I often
over-winter, you see. Snug, with good flowing water and
lots of game for the larder."

"Yes, I'm sure it is delightful—but lonely, too," said
Manda with interested sympathy.

"Yes, mistress. Quite lonely but that's the way I like it!
When I got there a week back I found someone had stopped
there recently. Which is all right with me. It's empty land,
you are right. When you get guests, you take them in, no
matter who they are, and ask no questions, either."

"These guests, though," he went on, warming to the sub-
ject, "were not very nice. They ate all my stores and never
left payment or replaced a bit of them! Never heard of such
goings on! Their horses ate all my fodder and hay, too!" he
added, greatly aggrieved by some people's lack of manners.

72

Don Callander

"I'd have given them no more thought than a suitable
curse or two, however," he said, shaking off his anger. "One
reason why I prefers to live alone."

"I certainly understand," said Tom. "Did they steal any-
thing else from you?"

"No, left my pelts alone, which surprised me. Must have
been city or castle folk. Woodsmen gone bad woulda stolen
the whole lot and beggared me! A whole year's work! But
pelts are smelly and greasy to such kinds, and I figure they
didn't know their value. No, they stole my hospitality, my
food and fodder, is all, nor ever left a word of thanks."

"Who might they have been?" asked Talber. "Mounted
parties are not that common in the lake country. Most travel

there by water."

"True, Factor!" said the trapper, whose name was Clema-
tis. "It was a considerably large party, mistress! Fully a
dozen horses and a half as many mules, by the sign they left.
I judge at least eight or ten, in all, some of 'em women."

"But no sign of who they were?" urged Manda, refilling
the trapper's mug and pushing the cookie plate closer.

"No, mistress! But one thing . .."

"Yes?" they asked.

"I found this." Clematis plunged a hand into a huge coat
pocket. "Behind one of the bunks, it was."

"Oh, my dear!" cried Manda, snatching the object from
the trapper's hand. It was a soft-stuffed rag doll neatly
dressed in blue-and-red gingham, with bright button eyes
and brown yam for hair. Manda burst into tears.

"Molly's doll!" she sobbed. "I made it for her myself
before the Mercenary Knights came. I can be absolutely
sure of it! See, Tom? The buttons I cut from the old
shirtwaist I wore when I ran away from Granger!"

"We begin to make some progress, then," said Furbetrance
from the doorway. "Tell us, which way did they go when
they left your house, trapper sir?"

"West, mostly," Clematis told them. "Toward the ocean."

^9^
Tracks in a Broken Land

WHEN they awoke, snow had frosted the flat prairie like one
vast sheet cake, hiding the single track and merging the sod
station even more than before with its landscape.

Manda found Tom and Furbetrance helping the station
hands clear three inches of feathery snow from the court-
yard and off the station roofs.

"I slept longer than I planned. I'm sorry!"

"No problem, missy," said Furbetrance. "I've been up
and about for only a few minutes myself. Found these
people shoveling the snow and offered to melt it all away
for them—like this."

He gulped a great breath and blow-torched the ice and
snow from the area before the factor's door, burning off
last year's dry grasses as well, leaving the ground hard
and dry.

He napped his wings vigorously to fan the smoke and
steam away. The shepherds laughed and cheered but scur-
ried back to their chores when Talber appeared, scowling
in the bright sun on the snow.

"Good morning. Princess, Librarian, and Dragon!" he
called. "Breakfast is served. Will you come?"

"At once!" cried Furbetrance. He plowed his way through
a remaining snowbank to the dining hall wall and thrust
his head through a window thrown open for him. "What's
cooking? Smells so good!"

"We work hard and eat hearty," said Talber. "Flapjacks
and syrup, bacon and eggs, honey butter, bread, and rasp-
berry tea. Plenty for all!"

A bell clanged overhead as Tom and Manda took their
places beside the Factor, and shortly the large hall filled with
people, shedding their warm coats and mittens, talking and
laughing to each other, greeting the guests, especially the

73

74

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 75

Dragon, cheerfully and politely.

"You've a happy lot, here," commented Manda in appro-
val. "It's a good sign of a well-run establishment."

"This is the sociable time of year for us," explained
Talber, spearing a stack of pancakes and drowning it in
maple syrup. "Much of our spring is spent moving the sheep
from winter to summer pastures. First comes lambing—
we're hoping it won't get too cold again. Ewes who drop
their lambs early have to be found out. Wolves and coyotes

can be a problem."

Manda listened as she ate, making interested sounds

around the tasty breakfast.

"Your people won't see home for months at a time this

summer?"

"That's the life of a shepherd. Your Highness. Next week
we'll shear, now that the coldest weather is past. They'll go
up to pasture in the hills, and shepherds and their dogs will
stay with them all summer long, moving them as needed
until they bring them back down in the fall."

Tom sought out the fur trapper. Someone must have
suggested he improve his appearance—and odor. He was
newly bathed, clean shaved and wearing clean clothes. He
looked much younger clean than he had dirty, but was still
rather shy. Tom found him seated by himself at a table in

the back of the hall.

"Come up and sit with us while we break our fast," he
invited. "I'd like to ask you some questions I'm sure only

you can answer."

Unwilling to refuse a great person. Clematis nodded
reluctantly and carried his heavily loaded plate to the head

table.

A robust shepherd's lass brought Tom sausages and pan-
cakes, bumping him good-naturedly with her hip as she
served him, laughing when he turned to see who was there.

Manda flashed a smile at her young man but continued
her conversation with the Factor, learning all she wanted to

know about sheep.

"Now what will you do?" Tom asked Clematis. "Summer

is your time to trap?"

"No, sir! The best furs are the winter pelts—so winter is

my busy time."

He attacked the plate of eggs and bacon, eating furiously.

"What will you do now, I wonder?" repeated Tom gen-
tly.

"Well, sir, haul my winter's take to market."
"And that is where?"

"Over west, to Wall," admitted the trapper.

"I don't know the country myself," Tom told him. He
hauled out the Historian's thick packet of maps and together
they studied a selection as they ate. "Where is Wall? On the
coast?"

The trapper paused, his fork half-raised, before he nod-
ded and pointed with the little finger of his fork hand.

"Ships come in the summer to buy raw pelts. Pay in
cash. I buy supplies, take care of any business I have with
bankers, lawyers, get drunk once or twice with old friends,
then go back to Broken Land. Live in peace and quiet,
repair my gear, maybe make some new traps, do some
hunting for winter larder. Things like that."

Tom allowed him peace to tackle his second helping of
everything within reach.

"The men who used your cabin went west, you say.
Toward Wall, would that be?"

Clematis considered this for a while, chewing strongly,
then bobbed his head.

"Likely. There isn't much else in that direction. No guar-
antee they went on west, however. Could have turned north.
Not likely," he added after second consideration. "Nothing
up north but a thousand miles of lakes and trees before you
run to Everfroze country, where the ground never thaws."

"I'd like to make you a proposition. Master Clematis . .."

"Call me Clem, for short," interrupted the other, and for
the first time he smiled, if only very briefly. "Mother named
me for a flower, you know. I'd rather be known as Clem."

"Well, Clem, then. Call me Tom."

"A business deal, Tom?" asked Clem.

"Yes. Suppose you came with us back over the moun-
tains to your cabin. Could you track the kidnappers of Lady
Rosemary and her children?"

"Could," admitted Clem. "Going that way, anyhow. I
can't leave my winter take overlong. Skins rot. Bugs get
into 'em, too, if they're not cleaned and dressed early."

"We can work that out. We need to know where the
kidnappers went with Lady Rosemary."

76                Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

77

"I can track anything that walks and most what crawls,
anywhere, even across hard rock if needed. Those weren't
countrymen. City bullies, I suspect. They'd leave a trail a
half league wide through woods."

"If you lose any money by guiding us. Historian Murdan
will pay you generous compensation."

"I'd be obliged. Good! I'll track for you. Librarian—
Tom, that is. Those babies were a pure delight. It bums
in my heart that they be stolen away."

"Good!" cried the Librarian. "We'll take off as soon as
yon Dragon finishes filling his stomach."

"Take off? You mean . . .fly? Like we saw you last
night? Through the air?"

"Don't worry. It's safe enough. The Dragon is a very
good friend. He's here also to locate his brother, who went
before us to find the lady and her children, you see, but
hasn't been heard from since."

"Not at all sure about this flying," said Clem, shaking
his head in doubt.

"It'd take us days to reach your cabin afoot," put in
Manda, who had learned all she wanted about birthing
lambs. "By Dragon, we'll be there in a few hours, over
mountains and all."

"You've made a good point, m'lady," Clem admitted,
unwillingly. "Fine enough! I'll chance it if you will! Make
quite a story to tell over the first jack of ale when we get
to Wall!"

Full of good breakfast and good wishes from the herds-
men, bundled against the chill in sheepskin jackets fur-
nished by the Factor, the party gathered in the center of
the station triangle, ready to mount the Dragon and fly.

"I'll send word by pigeon to Lord Murdan," Talber assured
them. "He'll hear you've been here and hired yourselves a
reliable guide who knows the north country."

"Very good of you. Factor," said Manda. "Tell him we
believe we've found the trail and are going to follow it,
wherever it leads."

Talber and his people waved and called good-byes as
the Dragon stretched his wings to full extension over his
head and brought them down with a thunderous clap. He
and his passengers shot into the morning air. A great cloud
of dust and powdery snow flew about them and by the

time it had cleared, the Dragon was almost out of sight,
arrowing north.

"RATHER lonely place," commented Manda, seated close to
Tom. Clem was perched behind them, gritting his teeth and
holding on to two rearward ears with a death grip. "But
wonderful people! So helpful and friendly."

"Once I traveled in our own West," Tom recalled, "and
the people there were friendlier the further I got from
crowded cities."

"I'd like to live at Ramhold for a time," mused the
princess aloud. "My father would like it, too. He should
have been a farmer or a herder, instead of king."

"They say a good king is the shepherd of his people,"
replied Tom. He was checking a map. "Look! We're com-
ing to the Snow Mountains!"

The Dragon circled to gain altitude and leveled out just
at the top of Summer Pass. He would have gone on, except
that Tom and Clem, after a brief conference, felt that they
should take a closer look at the road leading over the
pass.

Furbetrance swooped low over a narrow, rocky track.
Clem forgot his fear of flying enough to kneel and lean far
forward, scanning the ground with squinted eyes as they
skimmed slowly along.

"There!" he shouted, minutes later. "Set us down. Master
Dragon. Where the path crosses that stream."

Furbetrance backed his great sails and dropped to the
pathway with amazing gentleness for one so large. Clem
and Tom slid to the ground. The wind made the air biting-
ly cold.

"Be a muddy mess in an hour," predicted Clem, indicat-
ing the thin, frozen soil underfoot.

"What did you see?"

The trapper pointed but held his tongue until he had
gone down on his knees to examine the ground at the
shallow ford.

"They was here, the lady's party. They rested for a while
under the overhang there, from the climb up the mountain.
You can see the bum of a large fire."

"Now that you point it out, yes. How do you know they
were Rosemary's people?"

78

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

79

"Iron horseshoes like only the blacksmith at Old Place
makes," muttered the trapper. "Woodsmen use hardwood
shoes they carve over summers. Last almost as long and
lighter to tote."

He ranged over more than an acre and followed the path-
way downslope a hundred or more yards while Tom stood
shivering under the overhang. Furbetrance moved into its
shelter with Manda still in the saddle and blew flame at the
cold stone to make a comfortable if temporary nook.

"Two groups of riders met here. Kidnappers from the
south. The lady's party from the northeast. Might as well
go on to Broken Land," said Clem at last. "It's the same
bunch here as stayed at my cabin. Recognize the hoofmarks,
especially the mules."

"Let's go, then!" Tom called to him, willingly retreating
to the Dragon's warm niche.

"One thing bothers me," said the trapper when he caught
up.

"What's that?"

"How many in the lady's escort, could you say?"

"A half dozen mounted men, I heard Talber say," Manda
told him as they climbed back onto the Dragon's brow.
"Why?"

"I seen sign of twelve horsemen, here. Some of 'em
never reached my cabin. Question is, where are the missing
horsemen?"

"No sign of struggle?" wondered Furbetrance.

"None here."

"The kidnappers may have seized Rosemary or one of
the children and forced the escort to surrender under threat
of harming their hostage," Tom figured. "The attackers
outnumbered the defenders by two to one, anyway."

"Keep your eyes peeled," suggested Clem, resuming his
kneeling position, the better to see the ground. "Fly low
and slow for a while, friend Furbetrance, so we can see."

Furbetrance did so, adding his own sharp eyes to the

others'.

"Two parties rode back a way, together," said Clem
shortly.

"And there they parted company!" called out the Dragon.
"Want to take a closer look, tracker?"

"Down," agreed Clem.

On the ground he again went to his knees to examine the
faint signs of the passing of horses and mules.

"Who furnished the escort, I wonder?" Tom asked Manda.
"Certainly they were not Murtal's men, or they would have
returned to Old Place."

"I've no idea," said she, looking cold and worried.
"Grand-Aunt Murtal has a very small Achievement. She
keeps not many servants and only a few men at arms.
I can't believe they'd betray their mistress's grand-
daughter."

"They left her here, whoever they were," insisted Clem.
"Not Old Place shoes on their horses. Can't say for sure,
m'lady, but it's possible Lady Murtal contracted with some
local lordling to provide escort. Lady Murtal wouldn't strip
Old Place of armed men. She's too wise a castle keeper
for that."

"Hadn't thought of that," muttered Manda. "I think you're
right."

"We can fly over to Old Place," Furbetrance suggested.
"Take but a few minutes from here."

"No, let's go on to Clem's cabin. We can trace Rose-
mary's escort later, if need be."

"I wish we'd thought to bring carrier pigeons," said
Manda. "We could exchange word with Murdan and Murtal,
too. If the escort deserted or betrayed Rosemary, someone is
going to pay!"

"Later," Tom insisted. "Finding Lady Rosemary and her
children comes first."

"You're right, as usual," sighed the princess. "Go on
down the mountain! It's bound to be warmer in lower
places. I'm fairly turning blue."

"Pink and blue," chuckled Tom, teasing to cheer her up.
"Very becoming combination for you, my princess."

Furbetrance flew faster now, as there was little the track-
er could add to the story he read in Summer Pass. Their
way ran diagonally across the north-facing slopes of Snow
Mountains, a land deeply scarred by numberless vertical-
walled valleys cut by snowmelt torrents plunging off the
mountains each spring for thousands upon thousands of
years.

"It's really quite beautiful," commented Tom, looking
down at the seemingly endless pine forest.

80

DRAGON COMPANION          81

Don Callander

"I find it somber and melancholy," Manda disagreed. She
shook her head. "There's a desolation here that the prairie
around Ramhold didn't have, though it's just as empty."

"It's the dark color of the trees, I think. Besides, you
miss the touch of mankind on the land, don't you?" Tom
guessed.

"I am, after all, a child of comfortable castles and crowd-
ed towns. I like my landscapes cluttered with plowed fields,
with knights on horseback, and hunters in the forests and
fishermen on the lakes. And mothers with children, spin-
ning wool yam before their doors."

Clem gazed at her in surprise.

"My lady, you must forgive me, but I feel just the oppo-
site. Knights mean loud noises and sudden violence. Their
horses have forgotten how to run silently in the forest. They
frighten every little critter they meet."

He looked wistful. "I do agree with you about moth-
ers and kinder, though. A family has been denied me,
for what good woman would share solitude with me, I
wonder?"

"There will be someone, somewhere," said the princess,
consoling his wistfulness. "But as for me, give me some
population."

"I'm in the middle," said Furbetrance. "I like people, but
I like the peace of the high open skies, too."

"That's probably what we have in common, you Dragons
and I," suggested Tom. "I can take 'em or leave 'em, alike.
And I think this is beautiful country."

"You, Tom, are a poet at heart—and so are the Dragons.
Could you live here as Clem does?" Manda asked.

"Well, not exactly. I don't have the skills."

"Not the skills, perhaps, but they are easily learned,"
agreed the fur trapper, "if the desire and the understanding
are there, sir."

"That is true," Tom replied.

Clem hunched himself forward, saying, "Hi! My cabin
is just ahead. Dusk is near. Dragon. If I'm to see signs, I'll
need the light of morning. Besides, Princess and Librarian
are weary. Set us down there."

He pointed out a tiny clearing among uncounted miles
of trees. At first his companions couldn't see the cabin,
so hidden was it under the eaves of the forest, but as

the Dragon wheeled steeply down, they spotted it against
a dense wall of pines.

Before it a low cliff overhung a stream playing cheer-
fully between sharp rocks and mossy banks, plunging over
tiny waterfalls and racing from pool to pool, reflecting the
orange-gold evening clouds and the pointed tops of the
conifers.

"Home!" exclaimed Clem with a pleased grin. "Or the
best of my several homes, at least."

The sturdy, well-chinked log house was clean, roomy, and
comfortable, enough even for castle-bred Manda. Across the
front, facing the cliff edge, the river below, and the treetops
beyond, ran a wide, roofed-over porch furnished with rustic
chairs and split log benches. Within, it was divided into four
rooms—a combined sitting room and kitchen with a massive
stone fireplace and chimney, two smaller bedchambers, and
a storeroom smelling strongly of damp fur and slightly
tainted meat.

"You must forgive the smell," said the trapper. "That's
why I need to move my pelts before it gets warm, you can
understand."

Manda wrinkled her nose and stayed away from the
storeroom. Tom set about toting in wood from a great
stack outside, for the evening promised to be cold, and
Clem began to saute sliced onions and forest herbs from
his stores in a huge, black iron skillet. The mouth-watering
smell of cooking onions filled the cabin and overwhelmed
the odor of the pelts.

Being in his own home brought out latent instincts of
a host in the shy trapper. He prepared a good dinner of
smoked game hen from his larder, found a jug of beer in
his springhouse and managed to produce clean blankets and
even wild-goose-down pillows for his guests.

"I'll sleep here on the hearth," he said. "Mistress, please
endure a night in my own bed if you can. Tom, the other
bedroom is not as clean or as neat. The last ones to use it
were the kidnappers."

He bustled happily about like a housewife, and made
them surprisingly comfortable when they retired for the
night.

The Dragon disappeared into the forest on his own busi-
ness. When Tom rose with the sun the next morning, he

82

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 83

found the great beast curled protectively about three sides
of the log structure, snoring peacefully despite a morning
hoarfrost that whitened his scales.

After very welcome baths in the trapper's ingenious bath-
house down by the stream—water warmed by the night
fire was led down to it through wooden pipes that, Tom
realized, represented many a summer day's work of drilling
and fitting.

Furbetrance splashed in one of the larger pools and pro-
claimed himself completely refreshed and ready to fly.
During all this Clem found time to bake loaves of bread,
prepare breakfast, and pack a hearty lunch.

"You know of my pelts?" Clem took Tom aside to ask,
diffidently.

"Yes, and smell them, but it isn't too bad, I guess. It
didn't spoil my sleep or my appetite, anyway."

"I'd wish to carry them with us, if we could. They're a
whole year's labor for me, and quite valuable, delivered at

Wall."

"I did say we'd make arrangements for them, didn't I?
Yes. Well, let's consult our winged friend."

Furbetrance, whose olfactory passages were inured to
strong smelts of sulfurous fumes and flammable gases, had
no objection to packing the ripe furs behind his shoulders.

"Providing they can be securely fastened so as not to
interfere with flying," he said.

"Tie 'em as far aft as possible." He whispered to Manda,
"If the odor is offensive to you. Princess, I'll shake them

loose."

"The good man deserves our help, even though we've
promised to pay for any losses," decided Manda. "I can
stand it for a few days, I guess."

Clem led them out of the cabin, closing the door behind
him with the latch string hanging out, in case anyone else
came looking for shelter. A faint track ran under the trees
along the clifftop and here the tracker pointed to signs of
the passage of several horses—and mules, he insisted—in
half-frozen mud.

"Sixteen riders, I make it. This road leads only east
and west. The Snow Mountains are too high to climb,
especially as they're still snowcapped. To the north the
going is too wet—ponds, streams, and bogs at first, then

the long, narrow lakes in Lake Country. Good for trapping
but bad for traveling, except in midwinter, when 'tis frozen
solid."

"Then it should be easy to follow the trail from the air,"
said Furbetrance.

"They had no choice but to go toward Wall, I'd say.
There they'll hope to take ship, most likely, or follow the
coast down to Mantura or Obsidia, barren lands both. There
are a few poor ports on midcoast but they're never pleasant
to visit, I hear. Don't take much to strangers."

"I've been thinking," said Manda as they clambered to
the saddle on the Dragon's head. "If I were kidnapping
Rosemary to use as a hostage against Murdan's interference
with my Uncle Peter, where would I take her?"

"You know better than I," said Tom. "What have you
decided?"

"Not decided, but suspected, my dear. Look around you:

the land to the north of here is, Clem says, inhospitable to
men, especially men on horseback."

"That last is certainly true," agreed Clem. "Trade horses
for boats and you'll do better in the Lake Country in
summertime."

"Unless I'm very wrong, if the captors are Uncle Peter's
hirelings, they'll have access to the ocean. Many Gantrells
are sea captains and merchant sailors."

"What is their blazon, mistress?" asked the fur trapper.
"I'll tell you if they ever come to Wall. I do business with
many such each year."

"Blazons? I'm not sure what you mean."

"Gantrell's flag shows a great black bear reared on its
hind feet, mouth agape, paws spread," put in Furbetrance
as he ripped through the bright sky, following the westward
track. "It's his ancient family ensign, the Standing Bear of
Gantrell."

"Ensign, blazon, they're the same thing, m'lady. Blazons
are brightly painted on mainsails and sewn on large sea-
going flags, you see, so ships will be known by those who
meet them at sea. A bear upright, eh? I've seen several with
that sail marking over the years, come to think of it."

Furbetrance flew swiftly now, covering distances in one
morning that would have taken the party days on horseback.
The land, true to its name, was broken, twisted, and sharply

84 Don Callander

upthrust, slashed by uncounted streams and rivers, creeks
and rills, all of them roaring freshets at this season, carrying
melting snow from the mountains.

"If we don't overtake the kidnappers before they reach
the coast," said Clem, "we'll find them in one of the ports
along the Sea Wall."

"I thought it was a town called Wall," Manda said.

"From far northwest, south to where the mountains meet
the ocean, the coast is one long, high cliff with its feet in
the sea. At places the top is a thousand feet above the water.
Quietness Ocean beats at its foot with constant thunder.
Wall is the best and largest of many ports along the Sea
Wall," Clem explained patiently.

"How then do ships take on cargo?" wondered Tom.

"In some places the beach beneath the cliff is just wide
enough for a town to get a toe in a crack. Traders load their
holds from small craft that are practiced at plunging through
the wild breakers to and from the ships at anchor in deeper
waters."

"How do they get such a great bundle of furs down to
the beach?" Tom wondered.

"Lowered by winches! Everything—furs, horses, sup-
plies, and even men. Closest thing to Dragon flying I've
ever seen and not nearly so comfortable or safe!"

He went on, "Wall is the one exception. The Sea Wall
is mostly slippery black slate, easily shattered, but at Wall
it's breached by a great slump. This allows foot and horse
traffic down to the waterside."

"Sounds delightful," shuddered Manda. "Isn't a slate cliff
very dangerous?"

"Very!" cried the woodsman. "Every year men die when
the stone breaks away or a horse slips over the spill. I
drag my pelts on a sledge and never trust a horse myself.
Sell the sledge for firewood, too, rather than haul it up
again!"

They paused only long enough to eat a cold lunch on an
island in the middle of a long, narrow lake of magnificent
beauty, set like a jewel between mirrored, thickly wood-
ed hills.

"Be in Wall afore nightfall, I reckon," Clem told them.
"Dragon flying has its advantages. Used to take me a week
to cover the distance hauling a sledge!"

DRAGON COMPANION          85

He had Furbetrance stop every hour or so to check the
trail. By now the trapper could almost call each mount by
name and its rider also. At one stop he brought them a rag
of blue silk he'd found beside the path.

"Rosemary has a gown of that material," Manda con-
firmed. "It's been cut, but rather roughly, not torn. Is that
a good sign or a bad, Clem?"

"I can only guess, mistress. Perhaps Lady Rosemary cut
the cloth from the bottom of her gown to make it more
comfortable riding."

"I believe you're right," said Manda with great relief.
"It's the sort of thing our Rosie would do."

"I hope so," said Furbetrance to Tom. "We can only
guess at the behavior of her captors."

"If they'd intended to slay her, they would have done so

long since," Tom said. "No, they have a purpose in keeping
her alive."

"We must be careful," Furbetrance cautioned hurriedly.
Manda and the trapper were returning within earshot. "If
they're startled by our sudden appearance, no telling what
they might do in panic. Kidnapping is a hanging offense!"

After they'd resumed their flight, the Dragon suggested
that they waste no more time checking the trail.

"I agree, sir Dragon," said Clem, nodding his head vigor-
ously although there was no way Purbetrance could see the
gesture. "They've come this far along, they can be headed
for nowhere but Wall."

By late afternoon, with but an hour of sun left, they saw
the sharp, black line of the Sea Wall, and the dark blue of
Quietness Ocean beyond.

DRAGON COMPANION          87

^10^

Over the Wall

THE Slippery Slate Inn offered the best accommodations
in Wall. To it came the more successful trappers or sea-
men, the first fresh from Lake Country; the others, officers
from the ships that called at that out-of-the-way spot to
buy pelts.

It offered clean beds—you paid four times more if you
wished a whole bed to yourself—plain yet hearty fare,
leaning heavily on shore and sea foods—roast beef cost
a fortune. Its roof was sound. Its taproom was a popular
gathering place.

Most important, the inn had a bathing room with hot
water and plenty of strong lye soap and rough towels, and
its owner. Master Gregory Squiller, knew when to look the
other way and never asked embarrassing questions.

"Set us down at the front door," directed Clem as
Furbetrance circled high above the seaside town. " 'Twon't
do any harm to let 'em all know we came by Dragon, I
guess?"

Manda and Tom agreed. The Dragon swooped down on
the Slippery Slate like an angry hornet.

A small crowd of patrons gathered outside the inn to have
a drink in the cool evening air—drinks were cheaper out-
side than in—gawked in stunned surprise when the Dragon
landed on the broad cobbled yard in front of them. Some
cried out in alarm and fled, but most stood their ground
but kept their hands well away from belt knives and pocket
bludgeons. Dragons had sharp eyes as well as hot breath.

"Innkeeper!" shouted Clem, sliding off Furbetrance's
head. "Innkeeper! Rooms for the night!"

Master Squiller burst from the inn like a cork from one
of his bottles, wiping his sweaty palms on a stained apron
and bobbing his head in welcome.

86

"Sirs! Er . .. sirs and madam! The Slippery Slate, at your
service! I be Squiller, your host. What do ye require?"

"Let's see," said Tom. "Two of your very best rooms,
side by side. Fresh-laundered sheets. Board for three and
fodder for the Dragon, who'll sleep outside, but nearby."

"Easily, dear sir!" exclaimed Squiller, practicing his obse-
quiousness. "The estimable Dragon can sleep right beneath
your windows, if he will. My stableman will provide—oh,
say, fifty bales of fresh salt hay?—for his easy repose.
Will you step this way, lady and sirs? In out of the night
chill. .."

He led them inside, leaving the outdoor drinkers to stare
at the enormous Dragon in awe. Furbetrance gave them all
a polite little bow and turned to look for the hostler and his
fifty bales of salt hay.

Squiller wrung his hands in eagerness and greed, adding
up the price he intended to charge this important-looking
party. Manda, in her best lady-of-the-castle manner, sat in
dignified silence, looking about regally, while Clem and
Tom spoke to Squiller about their accommodations.

"I can let you have the two best front rooms—the left-
hand one is really a suite, has a parlor and dressing room—
for a hundred-fifty silver vols the night—"

"Say rather two hundred and a half in silver the week'"
cried Clem in outrage. "I've rented your sitting room-bed-
room for a third of that and felt cheated."

"Ah, you've been here before?" asked a deflated Squiller.
"Yes, I didn't recognize you without your ten day's beard
and trapper's aroma. Clem of Broken Land, is it not?"

"Then you'll know I'm a man of my word. I pay my
bills in cash and on time," snapped the trapper, still angry.
"We'll pay thirty a night for the four of us and take our
meals in our rooms. None of your added-for-this, added-
for-that!"

"Sir! Sir! The hay alone will cost that much! Fifty bales
of finest salt hay!"

"Let me tell you, friend innkeeper, it had better be top
quality, even at my offer. I know this Dragon. He's used
to the very best and'd bum down the whole port if he
found he'd been cheated of even a half bale!" growled
Tom, getting into the spirit of the haggle.

"Well, well, of course, there's that to be considered," the

88

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

89

innkeeper sighed even more deeply than before. "Forty of
silver, and that's my best offer, sirs."

"Dear innkeeper," interrupted Manda, softly. "Look out

the window, please."

When Squiller went to the front window he saw the
drinking crowd outside had grown tenfold, so far and fast
had the word spread of the arrival of a Dragon.

"You'll make fifty times the price of our rooms just in
beer and ale," Manda said. "Thirty vols for all, and that's

our last offer!"

"Well, well, and well," sighed the innkeeper. "Thirty-
five, in advance, little lady."

"Thirty, and we pay when we leave, if the service is

good," retorted Tom.

"Done!" cried Squiller, quickly. "Come! Let me show

you to your rooms."

They followed him up a broad staircase to the upper floor
of the inn and along an open balcony to the front, where he
opened two doors, side by side.

"The lady will wish the parlor-room suite," Squiller decid-
ed, ushering Manda in with polite ceremony. "This door
communicates between the two rooms. It can be locked
from either side, you see, if you desire."

"Leave it open for now, and open all the windows, too,"
directed Manda. "This place smells like the barracks in
Murdan's Overhall. Send your maids up at once to sweep
and dust and scrub the floor. It's filthy!"

Meekly agreeing to her demands, Squiller prepared to

leave.

"Light supping at any time, gents. Dinner is served at
eight of the clock. Tonight's baked salmon brought down
fresh from the lakes, way up north. Gourmet delicacy,

that is."

"Bring some tea while the maids clean the place up,"
sighed Manda, with a glance at Tom and Clem. "The Dra-
gon, by the way, eats as much as five men, and he'll share
our table. Place it by that large window."

"P-f-five men!" gasped Squiller, seeing his profit margin
swiftly dwindling to less than two hundred percent. "I had
thought Dragons were vegetarians. Ate grass and things

like that."

"Not this Dragon," said Furbetrance through the open

window. "The closest I come to being a vegetarian is tossed
salad, so see that I get plenty of it, innkeeper!"

"As you wish," sighed the resigned Squiller. "Welcome
to Wall, again, madam and sirs .. . and Dragon! I am at
your beck and call at all times."

He had a small worried frown as he turned away and
Manda felt sorry for him.

"Give Master Squiller one night's tariff," she told Tom.
The Librarian opened his purse and counted out thirty silver
coins into the grateful host's hand.

"Now, the cleaning maids, soap and water and mops and
brooms!" cried Manda, "and the pot of tea, if you please."

"Serve a round of your best ale to everyone in the bar,"
added Clem, who was enjoying playing the rich man for
once. "And tell them I'll be down after a while to answer
all their questions. And ask some, too."

Squiller bowed himself out of their chambers and dashed
down the stair calling aloud for his wife, his chef, his bar-
man, the maids, and his stabler.

Over hot tea minutes later, Tom asked what their next
move was.

"I'll go down and talk with the boys in the taproom,"
said Clem. "Many of them I know. They'll have heard of
any mounted party coming here. I'll butter up our host, see
what he knows, too. Squiller may be sharp when it comes
to vols, but he's an honest man, or he wouldn't have lasted
all these years in Wall's rough company."

Said Manda, "I'll ask for a dressmaker to run up some
things for me. Dressmakers go to many different houses in
a town and hear all sorts of interesting things. Also, I've
been wearing these mannish clothes long enough."

"I'll go have a walk about the port," Tom decided.

"There're rough, bluff people hereabouts," warned Clem.
"Wall has no law, save the strength of a man's arm and the
quickness of his blade."

"I don't intend to get into any brawls," scoffed Tom, "just
look for the Gantrell blazon on the ships at anchor. None of
them know me from Adam," he added. "I can go without
creating suspicions."

FURBETRANCE, when Tom came to him in the stableyard,
was asking the hands about his brother.

90

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 91

"Bigger'n ye!" exclaimed the head stabler. "Green and
gold? If anyone has seen that, we'd have heard. Ye can't
keep such a beast a secret, now can ye?"

"One would think not," said Purbetrance, "yet he's
completely disappeared somewhere between here and

Overhall."

He greeted the Librarian worriedly.

"I would have thought we'd have at least heard about
Retruance being about. As the man says, it's next to impos-
sible to hide a Dragon."

"Well, keep asking and looking," Tom advised, patting
his huge friend on a paw. "Retruance told me Dragons are
nigh impossible to kill."

"That may be right, but on the other hand. Dragons
like Retruance are pure innocents when it comes to evil
magicians and wicked witches. He may have been cap-
tured or enchanted or... I don't know! He may even be
nearby and hiding. Which is entirely another thing from
being hidden by someone else. I'll wait until moonlight
and fly about a bit. If I don't see a sign of him, he may

see me."

"Good idea!" exclaimed Tom, who was as worried as
Purbetrance about the missing Dragon. "For now, I'm going
for a walk while it's still light enough to see blazons."

"I'll come with you," Furbetrance offered.

"No, you can do more from the air. I'll shout if anything
happens," Tom promised, and he turned on his heel and
marched out of the stableyard onto the street, rather grateful
to be walking for a change.

The street was the only true passage in Wall, all the rest
being narrow, crooked, dank, and fish-smelling alleys. Most
ended at the water, for the whole town was built on a narrow
strip of slate that ran from the cliff out to sea a mile or more.
The street was lined with less-expensive inns, taverns, food
shops, and wretched hovels that seemed to be mostly the
business places of sad-looking women in bright but skimpy

clothing.

As the Librarian passed on, the buildings became more
imposing; wood-and-slate structures fronting low ware-
houses presumably filled with outgoing pelts or incoming
staples the fur trappers would buy at inflated prices.

Tom examined everything closely.

MANDA closeted herself with the innkeeper's plump and
cheery goodwife, Flavia. Mistress Squiller assured the prin-
cess she was by far the best seamstress in Wall, and pro-
ceeded to prove it by whipping together gowns and acces-
sories at an amazing speed, talking all the while.

"Don't get much call for finery like this," she warbled.
Manda stood in her shift on a low stool to allow Flavia
to measure, poke, prod, and suggest to her heart's content.
"I'm that happy to be of service. Haven't forgot my skills,
have I? No, ma'am!"

"You have very few ladies, then, in Wall? Not by land
nor by ship?"

"Occasionally one of the ship's captains brings his wife
(or so he calls her, if you take my meaning, ma'am) on
his voyage. Not many, no. Turn to the right, dearie. Ah,
so, that's fine! Let me just take a tape to yer bosom.
Remind me, now! Is it the fashion to wear the bodice
low or the collar high, these days? I'm that far out of
knowing, here."

"Rather more high than low," replied Manda. "I'll be
frank with you, goodwife. My friends and I came to Wall
seeking my cousin and her three young children, kidnapped
by a troop of eight or ten unknown horsemen some days
ago. Have you heard of them, at all?"

Flavia shook her head in outrage and dashed a kind tear
from her eye, being careful not to dislodge a mouthful of
straight pins as she did so.

"I'm that sorry, mistress! No, I've not heard of such a
cruel deed!"

"Let me tell you the story," said Manda, deciding to trust
the woman. "Then perhaps you and Master Squiller can
advise us what to do."

She spoke steadily for a half hour while the seamstress
worked, interrupting only with cries of dismay and anger.

"The poor, poor Lady Rosemary! And three wee ones,
too! What evil men would do such a thing? There are
wicked men aplenty here in Wall, lady, but none that sunk
down in depravity."

Clematis, already well known in town, was the favorite
son of Wall that early evening.

Word spread quickly that he was standing for drinks in

92

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

93

Slippery Slate's taproom. Outsiders crowded in to share the
largess and regulars made room for them at the bar, tables,
and benches. The rough seamen and rougher woodsmen
listened to Clem's tale, and tried to answer his questions.

"I'll be frank with ye, lads," Clem stage-whispered, "my
mates and I, we're looking for more than a Dragon. We seek
a kidnapped lady and three little ones!"

The crowd moved as close as they could to listen.

"She be Lady Rosemary, daughter of king's Historian
Murdan, of whom ye've heard many good things."

"We all know well of Murdan. He's the king's favorite,

I hears," someone called out.

"Aye, and has made enemies in the good king's service,
ye can wager," cried Clem. "Lady Rosemary was waylaid
in Summer Pass and the trail leads here to Wall. Tell me
now, has anyone here heard of a dozen armed and mounted
strangers? They'd be maybe to the number of eight or so
armed riders, castle folk, plus the lady and the kidlets."

There was a great deal of speculation and some rumors
of this or that stranger being seen, but no solid information.
While the ale flowed freely Clem listened intently but all
the time kept a keen eye on the taproom comings and

goings.

He didn't miss seeing one young dandy with an ornate

sword slipping out the door into the darkness, alone—only
short minutes after he'd entered looking very much like a
man with a great thirst. But he'd never sipped a taste of

Squiller's good brown ale.

"Anyone know that fancy youngster, just left?" he asked
his companions. "Didn't even stop to take advantage of

your hospitality, barkeeper!"

"I noticed him, but who was he? Does anyone know?"
No one did. Strangers came to a seaport town both from

sea and mountains, and nobody thought much about them.
The potboy stationed near the outside door to the barroom

came to Clem after a while.

"That there younker who didn't drink?" he asked.
"Aye, laddy. What of him? Do you know who he is?"
"No, sir, but did you see the badge he wore on his

sleeve?"

"None of it," said Clem, pushing his jack away empty

and wiping his mouth on his cuff. "What was it?"

"Seen it before as a blazon," said the potboy, thought-
fully. "A Standing Bear."

"Ha!" cried Clem. "The blazon of Gantrell ships?"

"Yes, so I believe. Not sure of the name but I've seen
the blazon more than twice."

Clem raised his voice to still the loud laughter and talk
about him, loosened by the free-flowing ale.

"Hoy! Hey! Any of you dogs seen a ship blazoned with
a Standing Bear? Gantrell ship, I think?"

A sailor near the back of the room stood and waved
his hand.

"Three lie at anchor well offshore. I wouldn't have
noticed it save they send no hands ashore, though they've
been in port for a week. I felt sorry for their sailors,
I did."

"I'll take a look at her," decided Clem. "You boys have
another drink on Master Tom and me while I'm gone."

"Better take a lad or two to help ye," advised the barkeep.
Clem crooked his finger at three of the closest; two old
friends from the deep pine woods and a dock roustabout
he knew. The foursome slipped out the back door of the
taproom, hardly missed as the barkeeper began drawing
from a new keg just then.

FURBETRANCE circled slowly over the long cliff and out to
sea, flying slowly and gliding silently in the clear moon-
light. He turned his eyes and ears on the scene spread out
below him, selecting those places where a Dragon might
choose to hide ... or be hidden.

At his furthest arc over Quietness Ocean's chop he was
attracted by three great square-rigged ships anchored on
the very edge of the harbor before the bottom became
too deep to drop anchor. While the dozen or so other,
smaller ships in the roadstead tended to huddle as close
inshore as they could, these three stood alone. They showed
no lights.

"Bad manners, at least," muttered Furbetrance at this.
"Lights should be required."

With no sound at all the Dragon lowered almost to the
wave tops and skimmed alongside the three vessels, pass-
ing them just out of bowshot. He could hear the creak of
cordage as the ships rocked in the long swell, and the low

94

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 95

sounds of voices. A bell clanged the half hour.

Furbetrance smelled the salt seawater, and most of all the
musty odors of gulls and terns, but under these he caught
the scent of cooking, of men in confined spaces, and. . .
what was that?

He turned and passed downwind of the ships again,
sniffing carefully.

It was the smell of a woman; mingled perfume and the
scent of a gentler soap than sailors ever used.

"Could be a captain's woman, come along for the ride,"
he mused. "Or it could be Rosemary."

Again he swooped close to the restless waves and flew
as close as he dared to the darkened ships.

The aroma of woman came again. And the sound of a
child whimpering in uneasy sleep. A woman's soft tones,
answering and soothing.

Furbetrance shot straight up, keeping his body well clear
of the direct moonlight path as seen from the decks, below.
He made his course directly back to the Slippery Slate, so
fast the wind keened as it rippled over his scales.

"STANDING Bear?" asked one of the four watermen huddled
about a tiny fire at the seaward point of Wall. "Yes, young
sir, I know it. Standing Bear's sail come here, once in a
while. They're common in the fur trade, I believe."

"Is there one in now?" asked Tom, holding out his hands
to the flames.

"Haven't seen one," said the eldest of the boatmen. "Ask
my son Jamey there. He has the good eyes in the family."

"Not one, but three," said Jamey. "Funny thing, too. I
was hired to carry passengers out to one of them early this
morning. Foggy it were, ye recall, Daddy?"

"Aye," said his father, puffing on his long-stemmed pipe.
"Not see a hand outstretched, I swear."

"They sent me packing in a rush, once these people had
boarded the biggest three-stick. Wouldn't let me stay to get
return passengers, as is the custom. Told me to shove off
and keep me distance!"

"Passengers? Tell me about them," the Librarian urged.
He placed a single silver vol on the ground near the fire
where it glinted and gleamed in the firelight.

The elder man leaned forward, picked the coin from the

sand, examined it carefully, and slipped it into a waistcoat
pocket, nodding to his son.

"Thank ye, sir! Most generous of ye! Well," continued
the son, "They numbered six in all, if ye count the tads."

"They went willingly, did it seem to you?"

"Hard to say, master. The young woman, she wasn't too
happy about it, I thought, but the little dandy who paid,
he sat up close to her with his arm tight about her. The
kidlets clung to her cloak. I thought they were afraid the
chop would toss them overboard."

Tom fished a second coin from his pocket and laid it by
the fire.

"I said to them kidlets, 'Don't be afeared, little fry. Jamey
is the second best boatman on the Wall after me Daddy.
Ye'll be safe.' "

"Did they answer?"

"No, just looked fearing and tearful, master. Thank ye,
again! Now, that fancy, the one dressed like a castle dandy,
yapped at me to shut my face and row, so I did. Paid well,
I must say."

Tom considered the matter. It surely was Rosemary, her
children, and her captors. The dandy? Who might that be?

"Did you know these ships at all?"

"No, sir. The big one had her name covered with a tarp,
come to think of it. I never recognized a one of her sailors
that I saw, either."

"I'll tell you why I ask," said the Librarian. "Some friends
of mine and I are looking for a kidnapped lady and three
children. These were most likely who you saw, I would
say."

"Nobody else like that come to Wall in recent days, at
least," agreed Daddy.

Said Jamey, "They come by fog and dark of morning,
and never stopped at any inn, I think. They all still smelled
strong, to a waterman like me, of horse sweat and fresh
manure."

"What I wonder is why have these ships stayed here so
long?"

"If what you're telling us is so, and I see no reason to
doubt you, for the shame of it all," said Daddy, "I would
guess the first three days they were here waiting for this
shore party to arrive."

96

DRAGON COMPANION          97

Don Callander

"But they're still out there?" Tom asked, gesturing sea-
ward.

"Tide's high with the full moon. Dangerous waters along
Sea Wall at such times, especially in fog. Fog lifted just this
afternoon, ye'11 recall."

"And perhaps they saw no reason to hurry their depar-
ture," guessed Jamey. "Did they know you and your friends
pursued them?"

"I don't think so," answered Tom. "Well, I've got to get
back to my party and report on this, friends. If I return in
an hour, will I still find you here, in case I need a boat out
to these ships?"

The boatmen assured him they'd be on duty until well
after midnight. The last of the sailors on shore leave from
other ships in the roadstead wouldn't roll down to the
strand before then and business would be brisk for a while
thereafter.

Tom stood, brushed sand from his trousers, and headed
back up the spit toward Slippery Slate.

"WAIT a moment, young bully," came a file-rough voice
from the shadows of an alley as he passed. "We needs some
drinking money and've elected ye to loan it to us!"

"Here, catch," said Tom instantly. He flung a fistful of
vols into a pool of moonlight at the side of the road. There
was a breathless scrabbling and a ragged arm shot out of
the pitch-black alley to scoop up the money.

"Ah, a willing donor," cried another voice. "Wait, maybe
there's more where that come from. Salty!"

"Enjoy your drinks," called Tom, moving at a fast walk
up the cobbles.

"Here!" cried one of the thieves.

"Ho, let him go!" said the other. "Let's find a crib for
the night, mate."

Tom slowed down when their voices fell well behind
him. No need to make himself conspicuous by running, he
decided. The town that had seemed so quaint in daylight
had become sinister in the dark.

Within hail of the inn four hulking figures back-lit by the
inn's bright windows, stepped in front of him from the side
of the street. Tom slid to a stop and took a great breath to
call out to the Dragon for help.

"Here, here, we're friends!" called Clem, holding his
hands up to Tom. "In fact, we're about looking for you,
Librarian."

Tom let his breath sigh out in relief and joined the fur
trapper and his friends.

"Lady Rosemary is aboard a Gantrell ship far out in the
roadstead, I believe," he told them. "I came back for help.
They might sail at any moment."

"Tide doesn't turn for over an hour," said the longshore-
man. "Although if they was spooked, they might shove off
before. Take their chances with the Shoal Races."
"So, Standing Bear ships are really here!" cried Clem.
Tom told him of his conversation with the boatmen.
"Know Old Petros and his son Jamey," said the roust-
about. "They been lightering to and from ships for as long
as I've been in Wall. I'd say you could trust their word."

"What's that!" cried one of Clem's trapper friends. He
pointed to the sky.

"Just a Dragon," shrugged Clem.
"Just a Dragon!" cried the other trapper. "Just a Dragon!
Ye're traveling in strange company these days, Clem!"

Furbetrance, hearing their voices echo in the empty street,
changed course and thumped down beside them.

"There are three suspicious ships in the roadstead," he
said at once. "I swear Lady Rosemary is aboard one of
them. I didn't see, but I could smell her and I heard a
child whimper!"

"I found it out in another way," said Tom. "You confirm
it."

"And so did I," Clem added. "A little man in fancy
clothes came into the bar. Had the Standing Bear blazon
on his sleeve. He left as suddenly. We set out to follow
him to his ship, we four."

"If y6ur dandy boy is from one of the Gantrell ships,"
said Furbetrance, "he'll warn them of us."

"We've got to move fast!" Tom exclaimed.

"Likely they'll up-anchor, rather than come for us," Clem
said. "How long for him to get back to his ship?" he asked
the taller trapper.

"He left here, what? Five minutes ago? Did you see
anyone when you came up the street. Librarian?"

"No one at all in the last five minutes."

98                Don Callander

"Then he had a boat bring him ashore near the inn,
I'd guess," said the other man. " 'Twill take him a half
hour's rowing in the turning tide, at least, to reach the far
roadstead."

"Fastest way to get to the ships is Dragon-back," said
Furbetrance. "Mount up, men!"

"Wait, now, how about Manda?" asked Tom.

Cried the Dragon, "She'll be safe where she is, trying on
dresses and all. There's likely to be a bit of fighting where
we're headed."

All five men sprang to the Dragon's head and shoulders,
two perching in front of Clem's pack of furs. Furbetrance
launched himself into the air once more.

"Let's take thought, now," Tom cautioned. "I don't doubt
we can get to the Gantrell three-masters before they get
under way, but what then?"

"We'll demand they release their captives or we'll sink
all three ships. I can do it with a belch or two," exclaimed
Furbetrance. "Ships bum beautifully."

"But so do Historian's daughters!" Tom objected. "They'll
know we won't bum the ship that holds Lady Rosemary.
They are the counters for any demand like that, ready to
the scoundrels' hands."

"Right! Right!" admitted the flying Dragon. "What
then?"

"Seems to me," put in Clem, "that craft and stealth
are called for. If you put me and Tom aboard the big
ship quietly, we can rescue lady and kinder before they
knows it."

"Here's what we'll do, then," Tom decided. "A bold
diversion out front, and a sneak attack from the rear!"

He pointed out the boatmen's fire. "Land near that as
quietly as possible so as not to startle them."

Once on the ground, he approached Petros and Jamey,
asking for their help.

"Take these three out to near the Gantrell ships and make
a ruckus of some sort," he ordered, once a price had been
agreed. "While they're looking at you, Clem and I will fly
with the Dragon to the ship and take Lady Rosemary and
her children right from under their noses."

"Done!" cried Petros. "Come along, Jamey. We'll take
my boat. It's a bit larger than yours, and we both will row.

DRAGON COMPANION          99

Give us a quarter hour, rescuers, and we'll be close aboard
her, kicking up a dandy fuss."

"You lead the way, when we get aboard her," said Tom
to Clem. "Rosemary doesn't know me but she'll remember
you and come with no hesitation, I think."

"Pine by me," Clem agreed. "Wish we had better weap-
ons, though."

The Librarian carried a sheath knife, more useful for din-
ing than fighting, and the trapper carried a thinner, sharper,
wickeder skinning knife that he was never without.

"Improvise," yelled Tom as the Dragon launched into
the air once more. "In a last resort, we've got our Dragon.
That's weapon enough for me."

"You can bet on it!" chuckled Furbetrance. He beat his
wings for altitude, but silently.

"It'd be useful if we managed to claim a captive of our
own—an officer, if possible—who could tell us what this
kidnapping was all about," Tom added, clinging to the
Dragon's forward ears. "But Rosemary and her children
come first!"

"Agreed!" said both his companions.

"WHERE are my menfolk and my Dragon?" wondered Manda
to Squiller. Mistress Squiller had disappeared into the inn-
keeper's quarters at the back of the inn to "run up" the new
frocks and skirts.

"Well, I wasn't informed, you see," apologized the inn-
keeper, "but one of the potboys told me that the trapper left
the taproom with three friends a while back. He watched
them go. They met the young Librarian on the street outside
and a moment later the Dragon joined them. They all flew
off, he said, but he didn't see where."

"They've found Rosemary!" exclaimed the princess.
"Why else would they leave so suddenly. And without
me, damn it!"

She returned to her room, ate a light supper alone, and
sat at her window, listening to the night sounds of the
seaport.

/ wish they 'd taken me! she thought angrily. But probably
it's just as well. I'm not much at hand-to-hand fighting. Oh,
Tom, be careful! You 've less training in rough doings than
even I!

DRAGON COMPANION         101

Don Callander

100

"I HAVE only one further question," called Furbetrance over
the wind rush of his flight. "Where is Retruance? I scoured

the area and saw no sign of him."

"It begins to look," said Tom, "that he never got as far

as Clem's cabin."

"Woulda seen sign if a big Dragon had landed within

a mile of my place," agreed Clem. "More later, friends!

There's the Gantrell fleet."

The moon was as high as it would get that night and

unless someone aboard one of the ships looked straight
up, he would not notice the Dragon overhead, circling in
declining loops toward the topmasts, still in eerie silence.
"Ahoy!" came a voice from the dark sea. "Ahoy the

ship!"

"Who goes there?" shouted the officer of the deck.

"Stand off, you drunken swabs! Clear away! Clear away,

I tell you!"

'That's our diversion," whispered Clem. "Now, Dra-
gon!"

In the open boat, Petros cupped his hands to bellow,

"Hoy, I say! Permission to put alongside! We've a man

here wants to board ye!"

"You think Freddie is with them?" someone on the ship's
poop deck asked a shadow that appeared from the compan-

ionway. "He's not back yet."

"Damned little snot!" snarled the new arrival. "He took
the gig ashore more than an hour since. But why would he

come out in a waterman's skiff?"

"Knowing our Freddie," said the first with a sniff, "two

drinks and he forgot the gig. Loves the booze too much and
too often for my liking, does Freddie."

"Careful what you say," warned the other, the captain.
"He's a bad reputation with that sword of his, the squeak!"

"Ahoy, ahoy!" someone in the open boat was yelling.

"Permission . . ."

"Ho, the boat!" shouted the ship's commander. "Come
up slow and lay off until I say to hook on. We've archers
here with arrows nocked, waiting for a false move!"

"Coming on very slowly. Captain!" came Petros's voice
over the dark water. Just then the moon chose to slip behind
a bank of clouds, plunging the sea into ebony blackness.

"Get them archers up on deck," rasped the captain to his
mate. "Keep 'em quiet! Something's not right, here."

FURBETRANCE slid ever so lightly into the smoother water
in the lee of the ship's stem. He lifted his head level with
the ornate gallery outside the great cabin windows but let
the rest of his great body sink under the waves.

Clem leaped onto the narrow gallery outboard of the stem
windows and found the nearest port standing partly open.
"HssstF he called to the Librarian. "Come on!"
The Librarian almost slipped on the scales of the Dra-
gon's head but managed to get a grip on the rail, then hook
his left foot. In the meantime, the trapper had swung the
diamond-paned transom full open and stepped cautiously
over the sill into the big cabin, his knife drawn. Tom
quickly followed.

"No closer!" called the captain to the skiff. "Bring a light
to see who they are."

"The lad is a bit the worse for grog," hailed Petros with
a laugh. "Toss a rope down and ye can hoist him aboard
like a sack."

He laughed again at his own joke and the officers on the
deck swore luridly.

"Someone fetch a bull's-eye!" shouted the First Mate. A
seaman scrambled down a hatch.

"Wait!" said the Captain. "I spy another boat out there,
coming this way. Too dark to see . . ."

"Make 'em all wait 'til we sort this out," suggested the
Mate.

"Good idea!" the Captain snarled. "Hoy, the boat. Stay
where you are now!"

"THAT'S a ship's gig," Jamey whispered to his Daddy.
"Man in the sheets and two at oars only."

"We'll take 'em," decided Clem's tall woodsman. " 'Tis
the dandy hisself what ran from the Slate."

"Lie low until they come alongside," ordered Petros.
"When I speak to them, jump!"

" 'Ware the boy-child's sword," said the short fur trap-
per.

"Not much he can do with a long knife in a short boat,

102 Don Callander

though," said Jamey in a hoarse whisper. "Quiet now,
hearties!"

TOM went at once to the door of the saloon that stood open
to the companionway leading to the open deck past several
closed doors.

"One of these cabins, I'd guess," said Clem in a low
voice. "They'd not put a lady in the chains, I think."

"You'd better be right about that," muttered Tom. He
stole down the corridor and silently swung the outer door
to, sliding bolts across to lock it securely from within.
"Now!"

He rapped on the first door softly. A man's voice answered
sleepily.

"Ye're called for on deck, sir," called Tom softly. He
stepped to one side. In a moment the door banged opened
and a tousled, half-dressed officer stood blinking in the
stronger light in the hall.

"Hold there!" snarled Clem, pressing his skinning knife
to the man's throat. "Just step quietly back inside, won't
you?"

He pushed the man backward onto his bunk, forcing him
to sit down, mouth agape.

In a few quick moves the trapper sheathed his knife, spun
the man on his face and lashed his hands behind him with a
strip of his own blanket. A moment later he had gagged his
victim and bound his feet.

"No sound and ye'11 survive the night," he growled in
the captive's left ear.

He stepped back out of the tiny sleeping cabin and closed
and bolted the door from the outside. Tom rapped on the
next door but when there was no answer, he swung it open.
Empty.

"Next!" whispered Clem. "No great rush. It'll take 'em
ten minutes to bash down that outside door."

"I hope!" said Tom. He knocked on a third door. No
answer. Empty! Then the fourth and last.

A woman's voice cried out in alarm and a child whim-
pered sleepily.

"Lady Rosemary!" Tom shouted aloud. He slid back the
bolts and opened the door.

"Here's old Clem the fur trapper and friends, come to

DRAGON COMPANION         103

rescue you, m'lady!" called Clem, showing himself in the
doorway.

"Clem! Of all people!" exclaimed the woman. "Come
on, children! We're escaping these vile men. Quickly and
quietly, all!"

In a moment the four captives were in the saloon, dressed
in their nightclothes and looking more than a bit frightened
and confused. When they spotted Clem the children smiled
tentatively.

"How do we get out of here?" asked Rosemary. "They'll
be all over the deck if we go out!"

"Through the windows," urged Tom. "There's a Dragon
you'll recognize outside, to fly us away!"

Rosemary had the quick wit of her father. She neither
hesitated nor asked further questions.

"Take the boy," she told Tom. "Valery! Go through the
window to the Dragon and find a place to sit and hold on.
Come on, Molly," she added to the second little girl. "I'll
help you climb over the coaming. There!"

Tom scooped up the smallest child and trotted after the
mother.

"I'm Eddie. Who are you?" asked the boy, a lad of four
or five years. "I don't know you, do I?"

"Not yet, you don't. I'm a servant of your grandfather,"
Tom told him. "Are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid," said Eddie stoutly. "Who's the Dra-
gon?"

"Furbetrance Constable," Tom told him. "Do you know
Furbetrance?"

"He's my friend," said the boy, clinging to Tom's neck
as the Librarian swung his legs over the rail. "Mama! I'll
be a Dragon Companion now!"

"Yes, dear, so you shall. Hang on to this ear for dear
life!"

Clem swung through the after-windows just as a great
pounding began on the companionway door. Voices shouted
angrily.

"Time to go ashore," said Clem. "Took 'em less than the
ten minutes I figured," he added ruefully.

"All settled down?" asked the Dragon from beneath them.
"Here we go! Up, up, and away, as we Dragons say!"

Several heads appeared at the poop rail above their heads,

104 Don Callander

bowmen drawing strings to their ears.

"Back!" cried the Dragon in a shrill, terrifying voice,
accompanied by a jet of brilliant flame that lit the stem
and the sea around them.

The archers fell back from the flame in fear. An officer
screamed at them to return to the rail and shoot.

"Forget it," advised Furbetrance. He sent another, white-
hot stream of fire at the cabin windows. Glass shattered and
the casements exploded inward. Drapery and upholstery
caught fire and black smoke began to pour through the
broken lights, blinding the archers leaning over the poop
rail, above.

Someone on deck shrilled in fear, "Fire! Fire!"

"They're away!" shouted Petros, watching as the flames
rose from the stem of the Gantrell ship and began to lick
at the tarred rigging and furled sails. "Time for us to haul
off, too."

Their prisoner squirmed in the bottom, tied with his own
velvet cloak, crying pitiably for mercy. Nobody paid him
any attention. The two oarsmen from the Gantrell ship sat
on their thwarts, looking shocked and helpless.

"Shove off there," Petros said roughly. "If you hurry
you can make it back to your ship before she bums to
the waterline with the rest of your mates."

"Hell with that!" cried one of the oarsmen. "We'll go
ashore if you'll let us."

"Follow us, then," cried Jamey with a laugh of pure
excitement. "Give way. Dad!"

The lighter, followed by the gig, spun about and headed
swiftly for the dock at the end of Wall.

'^.ii^.

Unfinished Business

ROSEMARY'S return to Overhall was a gala occasion,
reminding Tom of a Fourth of July in Iowa. The three
towers were draped with bright bunting. The roofs were
studded with dozens of flagpoles, each flying a different
banner, pennant, streamer, or burgee.

The meadow before the castle was fresh-mowed and car-
peted with spring flowers. Sconces usually holding smoky
pine-knot torches were stuffed instead with daffodils, irises,
jonquils, and trailing strands of dark green ivy. Tapestries
that in winter warmed the halls within were hung from
balcony to balcony to flap gaily in the breeze. Everything
was scrubbed spotless and every vestige of Gugglerun's
overflowing had been cleared away.

Even the swallows, doves, and wrens that nested under
the castle's eaves flew excitedly about the towers, calling,
cooing, and singing with pure joy.

Furbetrance Constable, with a fine sense of the dramatic,
plunged out of the blue sky and swooped to a daring landing
on the lea, putting his precious load of passengers down on
the wide road to the foregate.

Both sides of the path were lined ten deep with Murdan's
and Ffallmar's retainers, neighbors, crofters, farmers, for-
esters, freeholders, servants, pensioners, and men-at-arms,
cheering and waving and calling out in welcome and hap-
py relief.

When Tom and his group reached the foregate and had
crossed the drawbridge over Gugglerun moat, they were
showered from the battlements with flowers and gaily col-
ored ribbons. The guards snapped to attention and the castle
band played a fanfare.

Ffallmar rushed forward to gather his wife and children
into his strong arms and Murdan hovered about the group,

105

106 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 107

clucking like a great mother hen.

"My boy!" he shouted, clapping Tom on the back and
hugging Manda tightly, "My princess girl! Well done! Well
done!"

There were tears in his eyes and the smile on his face
was wide enough to take in the whole world as he led
them to the inner bailey, where tables loaded with all sorts
of wonderful foods and drinks had been set under striped
awnings.

"Everybody! No protocol! Dig in and eat and drink, for
my only child has been restored to us! Ffallmar's goodwife
and children are back in his arms, where they ought to be!"
cried the Historian, quite full of himself.

Everyone seemed transported with joy. Except for two
men, Tom noticed. Comptroller Plume hid a sour grimace
behind an overflowing flagon of foaming ale and turned his
back on the celebration.

Is that man just a crab by very nature? wondered Tom.
Nothing seems to please him!

The other sour face was more to be expected. A rum-
pled and besmudged young man wearing a Standing Bear
blazon upon his torn sleeve, Fredrick of Brevory, trailed
the fur trapper, tethered to him by a long leather rope.
Even he was greeted by the crowd as much with good
nature as with jeers. When Clem loosed his tether, some-
one handed Freddie a jack of ale and he drank of it
deeply.

"Eat, drink, and be merry, for my family is safe and
sound!" shouted the Historian. "Princess, come sit by my
right hand. Librarian, you've earned my undying gratitude!
Furbetrance Constable, eat me out of castle and home, if
you want. You and your family are ever welcome at the
Overhall table!"

"I hope you don't regret that," muttered Furbetrance,
burying his nose in a huge vat of savory beef, onion, and
tomato, highly spiced salmagundi the way Dragons best
like it. "We Dragons eat sparingly most days, but not at
panics."

"Since when have Dragons eaten lightly of anything,
anywhere?" scoffed Murdan.

"I worry about my brother," continued Furbetrance. "Our
family has a penchant for disappearing, perhaps. I wonder

where Retruance could have gone?"

"We'll tackle that problem, soon, I promise you," said
Tom. "He's my Mount and I'm his Companion. We're a
team when we're together and lost when apart."

"Retruance has sworn fealty to me personally," said
Murdan soberly. "Think not that I'm indifferent to his
fate. Yes, tomorrow morning we'll take up his case and
set out to find him, trust in me!"

The crowd cheered lustily. Lady Rosemary and Lord
Ffallmar, her husky, handsome husband, stood to drink their
healths in gratitude. The party looked to go on for hours
and hours, but nobody much minded.

SOME hours later Tom, unable to keep up with the Carolnans
in dining and drinking, looked about for Furbetrance and
found him seated beside the Gugglerun cistern in the upper
court, happily blowing red and yellow smoke rings to amuse
a giggling gaggle of castle children, including little Eduard
of Ffallmar and his sisters.

"Where's our dandy?" Tom asked.

"We got so tired of his dour, sour, whining face that
Murdan stuck him in the tip-top cell under Aftertower's
roof," replied the Dragon. "Come on, children, catch that
one! Ho, Eddie! That's the boy!"

Tom watched the fun for a while, then went to rescue
Manda, who was seated still at table, toying with a confec-
tion of whipped cream and minted custard, looking bravely
interested in a long and flowery speech by a slightly tipsy
cottager.

"Let's go up and sit on the battlements," she whispered
when she saw Tom. "I need a little peace and quiet and
a hug or two. We've had little time to ourselves
lately."

They climbed the narrow stone stairs to the top of the
wall and perched on an out-of-the-way cornice, watching
an evening rainstorm sweep across Overhall valley in the
far distance, holding hands and speaking little.

"We must go find Retruance," she said at last.

"I must, yes. Will Murdan allow you to go, also?"

"He'll want me out of the way, or at least out of sight,"
Manda said, smoothing her skirt about her knees as a cool,
rain-scented breeze puffed about them. "It'll be no problem

108               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

109

getting his permission. Uncle Peter is coming to Overhall,
you know."

Tom nodded.

"Yes, I remember. He wants you, Manda. You're his
ticket to power over your father and . . ."

"It's the 'and' that worries me most," the princess con-
fided with a shiver. "He believes if he holds me, he'll gain
the kingdom. He'll try to marry me to one of his neph-
ews, or someone like that nasty little Freddie of Brevory,
and force Session to have him made co-equal sovereign
with me."

"He'll try, certainly. Many powerful men will oppose
him in that."

"Including you," she said with a sudden grin.

"I... I don't consider myself powerful," Tom objected.

"On the contrary! Tom, you don't realize your own pow-
er. First of all, I love you, and that can't be ignored.
Secondly, you're human, which makes you an unknown
quality in this broth of politics."

"Say 'unknown ingredient,' rather," prompted the Librar-
ian.

"You know what I mean!" she cried.

"Not really. I really don't know. Why should I be an
'unknown power'? I certainly don't feel powerful."

"Uncle Murdan should explain it to you. Maybe I can
make you understand a little."

She gazed thoughtfully at the curtain of rain across the
valley.

"Tom, ours is a world in which magic, sorcery, wiz-
ardry, witchcraft, spells, and enchantment are common-
place. Only a few of us, like Murdan, comprehend a dif-
ferent scheme of things, in which great deeds are done
and difficult tasks accomplished without the use of
magic."

"Well, I guess I see . ..," Tom said hesitantly.

"Take Overhall, for example," she went on. "You know
very well it was built by a Dragon. You must know that
Altruance, bless his fiery soul, designed and built it in a few
short years with the help of some great magicians. Some
used their powers to quarry, hew, and fit these very stones.
Others levitated heavy beams and great vats of mortar as
high as the tallest tower top."

"The point is, they were all skilled craftsmen in their
fields. They had studied long and hard to learn how to do
things like change the course of underground Gugglerun to
flow into the castle and through the moat, there."

"Hmmm!" murmured Tom. "If that was so, why didn't
Murdan simply hire one of them to cut off Gugglerun, when
the Mercenary Knights .. . ?"

"You must see! Not every wizard can do such magic.
And they all take time. Murdan would have had to send
far off for a wizard powerful enough to change the flow of
Gugglerun, set by strong magic in the first place. Unlike
many elf folk, Murdan hoped to retake the castle by strength
of arms, to save time and expense. Others would have
thrown up their hands in despair.

"Why, though? Despite the cost. .."

"If he had. Uncle Peter, who is many times richer than
Murdan, would have just brought up his own specialists,
fought magic with magic. There would have followed an
expensive series of stalemates, you see, at best."

"You're saying that nobody would have thought of plug-
ging the outlet and forcing Gugglerun to back up inside
the castle?"

"What seemed to you a simple and logical solution to
the problem might not have occurred even to Murdan for
months! Remember, too, that Uncle Peter isn't really inter-
ested in Overhall. He wants to gain control of your sweet
little princess and to destroy Murdan's power to assist
the king."

"Without his keep, Murdan would be less powerful, I
suppose."

"Without his keep, his people, and the wealth within his
castle, too," Manda said with a nod. "And at a great loss
of time! Time is the most precious coinage of all, my dear.
Murdan could have grown old in the attempt. I would have
had to marry someone suitable—or risk not having a royal
heir. If Queen Beatrix failed to produce an heir in time, and
if Peter Gantrell held me in thrall.. . well, you can see time
would be on Gantrell's side."

"But, my dear, what did / do to change all that?"

"Peter never expected Murdan to use a human—your
powers, reason, common sense, I guess—to solve the con-
flict. It just didn't occur to him!"

110 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 111

"It seems sort of farfetched. I can't believe no one would
have said, 'Forget magic! Let's do something direct and
simple!' "

"Well, turn it around, can't you? If you had built Overhall,
would you have said, 'Forget stonemasons, forget carpen-
ters! Let's try magic'?"

"Well, uh, I see what you mean. .. ."

"It wouldn't have occurred to you to hire a magician to
lift stones to the top of a wall like this one. You'd have
hired .. . whatever it takes to do it in your world."

Tom leaned against the cool stone and thought about her
words for a while. The rainstorm passed majestically down
the middle of the valley but no rain fell on the castle itself.
Had someone woven a simple spell to keep the rain away
for the gala celebration? Rain, rain, go away! Come again
some other day.

"It does explain some things I've wondered about," he
said at last. "For example, why didn't Murdan recover
Rosemary by magic?"

"But, you see, that's what Uncle Peter expected him to
do. Then he could block any efforts to rescue Rosemary
using his own mages. As it happened, you were on hand
to act in your un-elfish way."

"I see. That's why the kidnappers never bothered to cover
their tracks."

"Exactly, beloved! We were amazed by your methods.
Getting Clem to go with us and read the signs seemed a
stroke of genius. Still does!"

She threw her arms about him and kissed him soundly.

"Thank goodness love isn't different here," said Tom.
He kissed her back and they clung together, breathless for
a long, lovely moment.

"What's to become of us?" he wondered, pulling back to
look into her wide, bright eyes.

"Well, I had a talk with Rosemary about us while we
stopped at Ramhold. You thought we were playing with
the babies."

She slid backward and hopped to the battlement pave-
ment. Tom followed her down the stair to the crowded
courtyard. Everyone was still having a marvelous time,
singing old Carolnan wassail songs at the top of their
voices and in several different keys.

"She said what?" prompted the librarian under cover of
the noise.

"I said, I supposed in the end I would have to do what
was best for Carolna, if I became queen. She laughed and
told me, 'The secret is, do what is best for you and it will
be best for the country. If you're happy, the kingdom will
be happy for and with you.'

"She told me her father had balked at her wishing to
marry Ffallmar, when they first met and fell in love. Raised
all sorts of Ned, he did! Threatened to shut her up in a
tower, even."

"Sounds like my hot-tempered Historian, all right!"
laughed Tom. "Lots of bluster and noise. But.. . ?"

"In the end he came to his senses and realized that he
couldn't be happy if Rosemary wasn't happy. As simple
as that, yet something Uncle Peter will never understand.
Although it helped that Ffallmar is such a good-looking,
hardworking, devoted, loyal sort."

The discussion stopped there, but they returned to it many
times in the coming weeks.

"WE'VE happily recovered my daughter and my grandchild-
ren," began Murdan the next morning. "Gantrell sought to
hold them hostage against my support of King Eduard, we
know. Brevory has admitted as much."

"We have this Fredrick of Brevory to hand," commented
Furbetrance. "He will confirm our suspicions?"

"Before witnesses," replied the Historian. "Guard! Bring
in the prisoner."

Fredrick of Brevory was still a sorry sight, not because he
was worn or torn, but because he wore a sullen hang-head
look and a sneer. His gorgeous clothes had been cleaned,
mended, and pressed, yet they had a tawdry, secondhand
look in the morning light streaming through Murdan's study
windows.

He tried to strut before them but spoiled the effect by
cringing fearfully when Murdan leaned forward in his chair
to see him better. And he kept casting fearful sideways
glances at the Dragon in the window.

"You . . . you can't hold me long!" he shrilled. "I'm a
man of—"

"Peter of Gantrell?" asked the Historian.

112 Don Callander

"Gantrell will ransom me, and right soon," screeched the
dandy without thinking how he gave his lord away. "He
values my services too highly to—"

"I should think so!" cried Manda. "Who else would he
find so base as to kidnap a helpless woman and three small
children?"

"I but carried out his orders. If there is blame, it is Lord
Gantrell's."

"No excuse!" Tom told him indignantly. "Wicked leaders
have ever claimed their underlings misunderstood or acted
without orders. And underlings have ever said they but did
as ordered by their superiors."

"True!" said Murdan. "And both are revealed as being
without honor."

"I will repeat your words to Lord Peter when I next see
him," sneered Fredrick. "We will bring down vengeance
on you and your house, Murdan!"

"I would expect naught else," chuckled the Historian,
"from such as you . .. and he."

He ruffled a thin sheaf of papers before him.

"To business! It is my intention to forgo the usual ransom
on such a wine-cellar rat as you, Brevory. The profit would
hardly justify the bother. No, it is my intention to bring you
before Fall Session in October. Let the king hear and judge
your part in this, and Peter Gantrell's, too."

"You are duty bound to ask my liege for a worthy ran-
som!" yelled Fredrick. "It's the law!"

"Hardly," Murdan demurred. "It's customary only in
cases between gentlemen in honorable warfare, I remind
you. You were apprehended in the commission of serious
and venal felony. It's my will as well as my duty that you
be brought to trial for kidnapping Rosemary of Fallmar and
her children."

The prisoner began to snivel piteously but his accusers
showed no clemency. He tried another tactic.

"What can I do to indemnify my crime?" he whined,
holding out clenched hands. "I'll do anything!"

"All you can do is wait and see," Murdan told him. "I
will carry your poor carcass to Lexor for trial. Don't think
of rescue. I'd welcome open battle with your liege."

"There must be some way I can mitigate your anger.

DRAGON COMPANION         113

Slake your thirst for revenge. It's not me you seek to
confound. It's Peter of Gantrell, isn't it? Let me pay for
your clemency with information and cooperation!"

"Your sort I do loathe," said Murdan, glowering darkly.
"Criers! Beggars for mercy! Snivelers! Cowards! You've
nothing we need so much as to accept in payment for what
you've done. We know who you acted for and why. Just
because you were a tool won't lessen your just punishment,
when it comes."

He angrily laid his right hand upon the hilt of his broad-
sword, which lay between them on the table, but drew
it back.

"In the meantime, you'll be treated well but kept in a
tower top with only a few bats and a jailer to tell your
troubles to."

He waved to the guards to take the prisoner away. Fredrick
of Brevory was dragged off, shouting hoarsely now of dire
vengeance until they could hear him no more.

"I don't think we got much out of that exchange," observed
Tom into the following silence.

"On the contrary," replied Murdan with a satisfied look.
"We all heard him admit his orders came direct from Peter.
I'll expect you to testify to that before the King. Now,"
Murdan continued with a wry shake of his head, "let us
take up more pressing matters. There are two."

"My brother?" the Dragon asked.

Declared Murdan, "We must move at once to find and
assist him."

"As Retruance's Companion, I claim that task," said
Tom firmly. "I'll leave at once, accompanied by my friend
Furbetrance."

"Not without me!" exclaimed Manda.

"Well, now, my dear princess . . .," began Murdan.

"You don't want me here when Uncle Peter comes to
claim me," said Manda. "I have no wish to put either of us
in such jeopardy. Gantrell is legally my guardian by royal
decree. To withhold me from him will appear, to those who
don't know the full story, an act of treason."

"Of course, you're right," sighed the Historian. "It would
weaken our case when we place it before Session, if Lord
Peter had demanded you and I refused. 'Twere better if

114 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 115

I could truthfully say you had fled. You are, after all,
a Princess Royal. Even I cannot hold you against your
will."

"It's settled then," said Furbetrance, cutting off more
debate. "We'll leave this afternoon."

"But where will you look for Retruance?" wondered the

Historian.

"Best that you don't know," said Princess Royal Alix

Amanda.

"What of Master Tom's status as your Librarian?" asked
Captain Graham, who had listened until then in silence.

"He's a Dragon Companion. His first duty ever is to his
Dragon, of course, regardless of other allegiances," Manda
pointed out. She knew her law.

"He's not my liege man, anyway, although I intended to
ask him to become so, soon," Murdan said thoughtfully.
"He's only my contracted employee. As such, I cannot be
held responsible for his actions, if Peter Gantrell seeks to
use Tom's actions against me."

"Even Gantrell has to admit that a Companion is primar-
ily responsible to his partner," said Furbetrance. "It's one
of the most ancient provisions of our law!"

"I was referring rather to him carrying off a Princess
Royal," responded Murdan, impatient now. "Peter will try
to make it out that I ordered Manda's removal."

"Let him!" cried Manda. "I can testify for myself if it
comes to that. The main thing is not to weaken your posi-
tion, Uncle, on behalf of the king and before the law."

"I could take the obvious path and release you from my
employ," Murdan said directly to Tom, "but I disdain to
take that cowardly route. You go to find your Dragon with
my blessings. If the princess chooses to accompany you, for
her own ends, I can't stop her going anywhere she pleases.
Only her father can attempt to do that."

"Good luck to him in that!" Manda exclaimed. "He would
urge me to go."

"So be it!" declared Murdan, striking the hilt of his
battered old sword with his clenched fists. "When Gantrell
arrives, I'll be as innocent as spring flowers but tough
as rawhide, too! I mean to take him to task about the
Mercenary Knights, although I can't prove that he hired
them, when you get right down to it. With any luck, I can

keep him unbalanced long enough to slow him down a bit.
That's my role."

"And while you play it, we'll seek my dear brother," said
Furbetrance with a nod.

"Do you have any idea where to begin?" Tom asked
Furbetrance Constable as he folded a few items of clothing
and toiletry into his rucksack. Manda had gone up the stair
to her own apartment to do the same.

"You're in charge of the smart thinking," said the Dra-
gon. "I can't think of a thing. Murdan says asking even the
best doom caster would be futile if Retruance is being held
by minions of Gantrell. Even if not, it would take weeks,
probably, and no guarantee of results, even then."

"We last saw him flying north by west from these very
walls," said the Librarian. "We'll do the same ourselves, as
soon as my lady runaway completes her packing. Any tips
on finding Dragons when you want them?"

"Ah! Well, as to that, a Companion can usually make
himself heard."

"A way Retruance didn't tell me about?"

"Dragon calling is a secret between mount and rider, and
I've never had one. I guess Retruance didn't have time to
instruct you. Too bad!"

"Anyone else we could ask?"

"Let's see! It's a tough question you ask. Arcolas is the
one to tell you."

"I don't want to involve Murdan's people any more than
I have," decided Tom. "The less they know of our going,
the better for Manda."

"My name is being bandied about," said Manda, coming
down the stair followed by her attendant, pretty Momie.
"What's the need?"

"We need to get going," said the Dragon. He prepared
to take the ladies aboard his head while Tom swung open
the heavy flight doors. The day beyond was warm and still.
The sky was dotted beautifully with puffy balls of cloud in
neat rows, moving on upper-air winds from west to east in
precise ranks.

"Here's a tracking expert," said Manda. The fur trapper
Clem had arrived, easily carrying his own pack.

"If you can't use me further," he said, apologetically,
"can I beg a ride home? If you're going that way, that is."

116

DRAGON COMPANION         117

Don Callander

"Pay for your passage by telling us where we could ask
about sighting a Dragon," said Tom, making room for the
trapper.

"Now we're ready at last!" cried Furbetrance, and he
flung himself and his four passengers through the door into
the air above the castle.

He went so suddenly and so fast, no one saw them
depart.

'^.i2'^.
The Crossbeak Migration

"I KNOW that Dragons can talk," Tom said to anyone who
would listen. "But can birds?"

"They can, among themselves," said Manda. "Dragons
can speak their song-language."

"I learned it at my mother's knees," said Furbetrance.
"Well, actually Retruance is much better than I am. I can
make myself understood, however."

"Wizards learn the language, but it's very difficult, they
tell me," continued Manda.

"Nonsense, ma'am!" scoffed Clem. "Begging your par-
don, too. I can bespeak most birds and I taught myself to
do it. Birds are generally pretty flighty. The problem is to
get one to sit still long enough to start a conversation."

"Which kind of bird might have seen the flying
Retruance?" asked Tom.

"Any flocking bird," Clem replied. "They usually travel
further afield than solitary pairs. They all migrate north or
south, of course, depending on the season."

As they were talking, a flock of crows rose from a plowed
field ahead of them and Furbetrance accelerated quickly to
catch up with them before they could scatter.

"Crowtalk is easier than most," observed Clem. "We're
lucky to find a flock this soon."

The lead crow was a huge specimen with striking white
markings on her shoulders and under her tail. Otherwise
she was coal black, except for her bright yellow beak. She
and her flock of fifty eyed the Dragon cautiously, but didn't
seem particularly frightened of him.

"We seek information," the Dragon called to them. "Will
you stay and talk to us?"

"I'm not afraid of you. Dragon," the lead crow cawed
raucously. "Come ahead!"

The Dragon drew even with the flight and bobbed his
head carefully in greeting. His passengers clung to his
harness and ears with both hands and saluted the lead
crow with polite nods.

"On my head are, in order of preference," began
Furbetrance, "the Princess Royal Alix Amanda .. ."

"I'm honored. Princess," said the lead crow, impressed
despite herself.

"I'm truly charmed to meet you, also," replied Manda,
when Clem had quickly translated the crow's words for
her.

"I beg your pardon, however. I should be more polite,"
said the crow in Common Tongue. "I should bespeak you
in your own language, as you don't know ours."

"I would love to learn Crow," said Manda, sincerely. "A
princess and a queen-perhaps-to-be should know as many of
her subjects' languages as she can, out of respect to them."

"I would be honored if you would allow me to give you
some lessons in Crow," responded the bird.

"Wonderful!" cried Manda. "As soon as our current quest
is fulfilled, come to Overhall and ask for me. We'll begin
lessons at once."

Furbetrance introduced Momie and the two young men
to the lead crow and they exchanged polite amenities. The
crow, whose name was White Shoulders, seemed unim-
pressed with a Librarian—she couldn't read, as it turned
out—but she knew of the breed of men who trapped fur
animals. She approved of what they did for a living.

"Nasty beasts, the ermines, the stoats, the weasels, the
minx. Steal eggs at the drop of a feather!" White Shoul-
ders shuttered in revulsion. "It's splendidly ironic that they
should end their days keeping some lady warm, come cold
weather."

118 Don Callander

Furbetrance tactfully waited until they all felt comfort-
able with each other before he broached the subject of the
missing Dragon. The relatively short-ranging crows settled
down in an oak copse standing by itself in the middle of
miles of greening pastures, and the Dragon discharged his
passengers nearby.

"We seek my noble brother, Retruance Constable," he
began.

"Oh, yes, I know Retruance Constable quite well!" cried
White Shoulders. "He flew this way quite often and often
stopped to chat."

"Can you tell us of his whereabouts, now?" asked Tom
impulsively. "He's been missing for weeks and we fear he
has fallen into trouble of some sort. Lady White Shoul-
ders."

White Shoulders cocked her head to the left and squinted
at the man with dawning understanding.

"Ah, now I see! You're the new Dragon Companion!
Your Dragon friend here did you an injustice by not using
your tide."

"I am so very sorry," apologized Furbetrance. "It slipped
my mind, entirely."

"No harm, though," continued the crow. "It's a very
great honor to meet a Companion. Retruance Constable
told me of you, when last he passed this way. Said to
assist you if I were asked."

"He talked to you since he and I met?" asked Tom. "Then
you've seen him since we last did."

They explained the entire matter of the missing Dragon
to the crows, all of whom perched on limbs of the oaks and
listened in uncharacteristic silence.

"Of course, Retruance Constable told me of the Lady
Rosemary. I told him I had seen her fleeing from Overhall,
but not seen her return. That's all I could offer him at
that time."

Manda told of how the Librarian, the woodsman, and the
Dragon had rescued the Historian's daughter.

At the end of the story White Shoulders sat on a branch
near Furbetrance's head and considered matters quietly and
seriously.

"No, I neither saw nor heard of Retruance Constable after
his brief stop here," she said sadly. "Migrant birds might

DRAGON COMPANION          119

have seen him, but they're all in the Far North by now, or
close to it."

"Can you think of anyone, bird, beast, or man, who might
have heard word of the Dragon?" asked Clem. "For exam-
ple, some rodents pass news over considerable distance
through their connecting burrows."

"Unfortunately," said White Shoulders, shaking her black
head, "we are not on the best of terms with rodents."

She shook her head again, more slowly. "No, I just can't
think of anyone . . ."

A much smaller crow flew to White Shoulders's branch.
They conferred in quiet Crow before the smaller bird flew
away, shyly.

"My little friend there," said White Shoulders, "has just
given me an idea worth exploring, I think. As you know,
birds either stay put all year 'round, like we crows, and the
owls, or migrate north in summer and south in winter."

"We're aware of that," said Furbetrance.

"But my young friend reminds me that a certain breed
of birds migrate east in summer and west in winter! The
crossbeaks! They got into the habit centuries ago, my moth-
er once told me, because they are so at cross purposes with
each other and with other birds too."

"I've heard of the breed," said Clem, "but not of cross-
wise migration."

"They do it at the same time as the north-south move-
ments, so nobody notices them moving across the current,
as it were," the lead crow told him, chuckling. "But 'tis
true!"

"Where are they now, then? Let's see, they go east in
summer?" asked Furbetrance.

"Yes. They have been passing through our north-going
brethren for some weeks now," said White Shoulders. "If
you will wait for an hour or so, I will send scouts out to
see if any are in the area."

Although it was early evening, the travelers pitched their
tents in the grove for the night. The crows showed Tom
a tiny spring among a jumbled heap of stone nearby and
Momie and Manda gathered dry, dead oak twigs for a
cheery evening fire where Clem prepared their meal.

White Shoulders's flock settled in the trees above as
twilight arrived, but no word came from the scouts. White

120 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 121

Shoulders joined them briefly for a supper of bread and
cold meat before she went off to check her sentries for
the night.

"Go to sleep, friends," she suggested. "There will be
word by morning, I'm sure."

The five of them—the young people sitting about the
dying fire, the Dragon curled protectively around them, fire
and all—sat awhile, talking of this and that, mostly of the
comparison between castle life and life in the wilderness.

"Not that I say this is true wilderness," clucked the
trapper. "There is water and food here, easily to hand, if
you know how to find it. I've been in places where even
air was hard to find!"

Manda and Momie crawled into their tent, saying good
night to the men. Tom and Clem decided to sleep in the
open, as the summer's night was mild and dry, and soon
they were sound asleep, too, leaving the Dragon and the
crow sentries to watch over them.

The great beast seemed to sleep also, but the crows who,
out of curiosity, came close to examine the strangers noted
a tiny glint of red fire showing in the Dragon's slitted eyes.
The very arrow tip of his tail swung back and forth slightly
every once in a while, like that of a puppy in its sleep.

"THIS is a crossbeak," White Shoulders said, introducing
them to a medium-sized gray bird whose bill crossed itself
strangely, giving the bird an unhappy, contentious look.
"He's agreed to help you."

"For a price," insisted the new bird, tartly.

"What price?" said Furbetrance, raising his eyebrows in
surprise.

"I and my people will help you in return for undisputed
rights to all the kingdom's mosquitoes and flying beetles.
That's our proposal. Take it or leave it!"

"I don't see how we can give any one kind of bird
unlimited rights like that," objected Manda heatedly. "All
birds have rights, you should know!"

White Shoulders perched on Manda's shoulder and whis-
pered in her ear.

"Oh, very well, in that case," said Manda to the crossbeak.
"As Princess Royal I agree to your demands—providing that
what you have to tell us is of assistance in our quest."

"Fair enough. Princess," said the crossbeak. "Ask me
what you will."

They explained their interest in the movements of the
missing Dragon, and when they had finished the gray bird
sat in deep thought for a long while. Furbetrance cleared
his throat with a burst of blue smoke, fearing the bird had
fallen asleep.

"Yes!" cried the crossbeak with a start.

"Yes, what?" demanded his listeners.

"I've heard word of the Dragon flying west some days
ago," the bird told them. "I didn't see him myself, mind
you, but word of him passed up the line."

"There's nothing more you can tell us?" asked Tom.

"I'll have to check with my flockmates," snapped the
crossbeak irritably. "It'll mean flying far ahead. Those who
actually saw the Dragon have already passed this point."

"How long. will that take?" asked Manda. "We're in a
hurry, in case harm has befallen the good Dragon."

"Less than a day," the bird assured her. "Check with my
people tomorrow morning. They'll know if I found anything
for you."

THE crossbeak fluttered off eastward more quickly than his
kind usually flew.

"What changed your mind about the mosquitoes and
beetles?" Tom asked Manda over breakfast.

"White Shoulders said it was a meaningless concession.
The crossbeaks just want to brag about it, she said.
Crossbeaks eat mostly nuts and seeds! She saw no harm
in the concession."

"Well, we'll have to wait for the crossbeaks to report,
then," sighed Furbetrance.

"I think we should proceed to Ramhold, anyway," said
Tom. "From what this crossbeak said, their news will reach
us no matter where we are tomorrow morning. We know
Retruance flew that way. We'll be getting closer by trav-
eling ourselves in that direction."

"I agree," said Furbetrance, and the others had no objec-
tions.

Twenty minutes later they said good-bye and thank you
to the lead crow, reminding her to come to Overhall for a
feast and language lessons.

122 Don Callander

"No thanks necessary," said the crow waving a wing
negligently. "Fare you well, friends!"

"We should reach Murdan's Ramhold in an hour or two
at most," the Dragon said. "If that's where you think we
should go now."

"Ramhold it is!" cried Manda. "Besides, Talber may have
some word, too, of our missing Dragon."

BUT Talber wasn't at the sheep station when they arrived,
although his people made the travelers welcome and com-
fortable.

"The herds are on their way up into the mountains," said
the Factor's aide, in charge while the Factor was away.
"We're just finishing shearing. If you'll excuse me, I must
return to that work."

"Of course," answered Manda. "We'll watch, if we may."

They spent the afternoon—after a big farm lunch—in
the open-sided sheds watching the shearers clip the ewes
and rams, relieving them of the thick wool of winter and
making it more comfortable for them to bear the heat of
summer.

The following morning just before dawn a crossbeak
flew in at Tom's window and awakened him with the loud,
rasping call of his kind.

"Wake up, sirrah! I've news from the crossbeak flock
for you and'your princess."

"Come with me, then," Tom told him. He pulled on his
trousers and marched across the hall to knock on Manda's
door. She was already awake and, sitting on a bench beside
the window, was combing her hair before plaiting it.

"The Dragon was last seen flying high on the south-facing
slopes of Snow Mountains," recited the bird, perching on the
top of the mirror before Manda. "He was a day and a half of
moderate flight beyond Summer Pass road where it begins
to climb."

"How far is that in miles?" asked Tom.

"I have no idea. I don't think in terms of miles," snapped
the crossbeak.

"Probably Clem can tell us pretty well," said Tom. "Go
on, good bird!"

"The wings of the great flock that came through that area
two weeks ago say that they saw no sign of the Dragon. If

DRAGON COMPANION         123

he had continued westward, he would have been seen by
them."

"So, Retruance flew at least as far as that, and either
landed or turned south or north?"

"You've understood. Princess. If he had turned east or
continued west, we would have had report of him, but he
drops from sight after our sighting."

"Well, good!" said Manda. Turning to Tom, she said,
"We're beginning to narrow it down."

They thanked the bird, offering it breakfast with the shep-
herds, but it refused indignantly, saying it preferred grass
seed to table crumbs, and flew off to rejoin its flock.

"No one knows the south slopes better'n Talber," said
the Factor's assistant over breakfast. "You ought to go to
him, first, and let him tell you what to expect to the west.
I hear it's bad country."

"A good idea, " said Tom with an emphatic nod. "It's not
out of the way, and could save us much time searching."

"I don't say Master Talber knows everything about the
area," warned the assistant Factor. "It's terribly wild for the
most part. And vast! You could hide whole cities in a fold
or a canyon there, or a half dozen Dragons."

ROCKY hillsides were awash with fresh white new-shorn
sheep for as far as the eye cold see. Furbetrance circled qui-
etly for several minutes before he spotted the small group
of shepherds and their dogs following the vast flock.

As they came in to land, the shepherds waved in greeting,
and the sheep pretended to be terrified and started to bolt.

The four sheepdogs were off with hardly a signal needed,
to head off the stampede before it could get started.

"Sorry to be such a nuisance!" called Tom.

"Not a problem at all," Talber said, grinning, pleased to
see them again and hear their news. "The dogs know what
to do. The sheep are merely having springtime friskies."

When they had shared morning tea with the herdsmen,
the rescuers told what the crossbeaks had said of Retruance.

"That land is certainly among the most desolate in the
kingdom or anywhere, for that matter," Talber said. "In the
old days outlaws fled there to hide. It's still called Hiding
Lands. Come to think of it, Gantrells are not unknown
there."

124

Don Callander

v

"How do you mean?" asked Manda, looking up
quickly.

"The sire of the present Gantrells, old Owen Gantrell
himself, led the troops that chased down the outlaws, fifty
years since. It brought him much favor with Eduard Nine,
and made his family's fortune."

"And set us up for trouble in this generation," said
Manda, making a wry face. "Which is unfair of me, for
most Gantrells are decent folk. It's just my overambitious
Uncle Peter . . ."

"So you think Gantrell might have knowledge of these
Hiding Lands?" asked Furbetrance. The herder nodded in
reply.

"I wonder, then," said Manda, "why Freddie of Brevory
didn't carry Lady Rosemary there, after he captured her in
Summer Pass?"

"Several reasons occur to me," replied Talber. "For one,
Summer Pass is much closer north than Hiding Lands is
west. It would have meant carrying m'lady Rosemary over-
land almost twice as far as taking her to Wall, you see."

"Also," put in the Dragon, "from what little I know and
what the crossbeaks and others tell me. Hiding Lands is no
place to take a lady you want to save as hostage."

"Do you want to guess what I think?" said Clem, smack-
ing a fist into his palm. "I think our Retruance reached the
top of Summer Pass, found the signs we saw there, and,
knowing the Gantrells had knowledge of Hiding Lands,
gambled that Brevory would take Rosemary there, instead
of Wall."

Said Tom, "I don't see friend Freddie as a desert rat."

"Ha!" Manda gave an unladylike snort. "Anything dry
would be anathema to Freddie the Sponge!"

"No more help you can give us on landmarks and so on?"
Clem asked. "I've heard tales, but few men of the north ever
see the south slopes. What would be the use?"

"There's said to be gold and silver, even diamond mines
there. Men go into the lands regularly, looking for them.
They seldom come out," said Talber, ominously.

"Let's not forget we're looking for a Dragon, not a man,"
said Tom. "I for one can't imagine any desert dangers that
would phase Retruance, or prevent him from coming home
to Overhall—or sending word, at least."

DRAGON COMPANION         125

Furbetrance sniffed. "Yet the fact remains, he went in,
and didn't come out."
"Magic, then?" asked Tom.
"Magic, perhaps!" answered Furbetrance Constable.

THEY talked to the veteran sheepherders, hoping that one
of them would have an idea where Retruance might have
alighted in Hiding Lands.

"My pappy went that way once, as a youngster," said
the oldest of the herders. He blew a cloud of rank tobacco
smoke from his stubby clay pipe before he went on.

"Told us it were desolation doubled and tripled! Leagues
and leagues with nary a drop of water and not a living ani-
mal nor plant. The mountains shade the land from the rains
from the sea, he said. It rains there maybe one day in five,
six years! When it does, the hills melt away like sugarloafs
and slip down into the canyons. Dangerous place, said he,
and I believed him so well I never went there myself."

Asked Tom of the old-timer, "What could the Dragon
have seen and where was he headed, can you guess?"

"Pappy said there were a few, tiny water holes in deep
canyons where water was to be had and a few trees and
some grass could grow. Seems to me one of these must be
the place the Dragon was headed, if his quarry were men.
After all, men need water, even if a Dragon don't."

"Look for spots of green deep in cracks in the land,"
said Furbetrance. "That sounds like a sensible way to pro-
ceed."

"In a spot of green, ye might find your Dragon or some
trace of the passing of his quarry," the veteran agreed. They
thanked him and prepared to go their way again, heeding
the factor's advice to carry extra bottles of water.

Tom and Manda approached Clem then, saying, "We can
put you over the mountain at your house in the woods,
Clem, if you want to go home. This is not your work to
do, if you don't want to. We'll understand."

The trapper drew himself up proudly.

"I'm committed to serve and help Master Tom and you,
m'lady! And to help you and this fair lass." He gestured
to a suddenly blushing Momie. "Face the terrible desert
without my being there to ease the ordeal? No, thank you
muchly, ma'am and sir! Order me away, if you wish, but

126 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 127

unless you do, I signed on for the full portage."

"We had to offer," said Tom, pounding the trapper on
the shoulder in his delight. "We could think of no better,
braver companion, old man!"

"Oh, we would be quite lost without you. Clematis!"
cried Manda, and Momie kissed him on his cheek.

"You may become lost even with me, ladies," he pro-
tested. "But I'll feel much better about myself knowing I'm
along to help you."

"If you people are finished being mawkish," sniffed the
Dragon, "I would like to get under way. We have less than
six hours of daylight before we must stop for the night out
there on the desert."

"Do Dragons cry, I wonder?" Manda asked nobody in
particular as they shot aloft in the warm, dry afternoon
sky.

"I haven't the faintest idea," replied Tom. "But it wouldn't
surprise me a bit. They are like Murdan, in a way. They
like to appear tough and self-reliant, but underneath they're
softhearted and kind and extremely sensitive."

"Huh!" snorted Furbetrance. "Hah! Your experience is
limited to two Dragons reared by the same Dame, my gentle
mother. Wait 'til you meet a really tough, bad-tempered,
terrible, man-hating Dragon with chronic dyspepsia and
sharp clinkers in his gut!"

"I can wait for that," said Manda with a laugh. "Oh,
look, that must be the beginning of the Hiding Lands. How
desolate it is!"

^13^
Search for a Dragon

THE summer after his college graduation Tom had traveled
in an ancient truck all over America's Far West, from Texas
and the Gulf Coast to Montana's Big Sky country, from
Pike's Peak to the Golden Gate.

He was enthralled by the dry, high desert. At the very
bottom of Death Valley, almost three hundred feet below
sea level, he'd stood alone on a dune and turned completely
around. He saw not a single living being, animal or plant!
Not even an insect in the sand or a bird in the sky.

He never decided if he loved the desert—or hated it.

As Furbetrance bucked in the first hot updrafts over
Hiding Lands, the memories returned to him. This land,
too, was flat as a pancake—a uniform yellow-tan pancake.
No trees, little shrubbery or even dried weeds. No creature
stirred anywhere within the fifty-mile circle of horizon.

In a way, this place made Death Valley seem almost
hospitable. Death Valley at least had a road and motorcycle
tracks to show that men had once been there.

"Yet, it has a beauty," he said quietly to Manda. She was
staring at the desert over the Dragon's nose. "The colors are
subtle. The stillness is overwhelming."

"I prefer greenery with noisy people," the princess
answered shortly. "How can you say it's beautiful?"

"I prefer forests with lakes myself," said Clem to Momie.

"So do I, really," answered the maid. "But I can see how
Master Tom thinks it is ... well, starkly attractive here."

"If you were down there, afoot and without water,"
observed Furbetrance glumly, "you'd soon learn to loathe it.
And I say that when it's much more to a Dragon's liking than
many places I've been. I was brought up on such a desert,"

"It really lacks only a little rain to be a garden," said Tom,
dreamily. "I've seen whole great valleys abloom where men
brought water to the American desert."

"I won't say I hate it," said Manda, reasonably, "nor that
I cannot see why it might attract you, my love, but I do say
I wouldn't like to live here."

"Even if I built you a green garden and a blue lake to
reflect the stark mountain peaks?" teased Tom.

"Well, I suppose even this desert could be made livable,
if one had the means and time."

"It's the challenge," replied Tom, "to make it livable and
yet not spoil its setting."

They flew straight into the heart of Hiding Lands until
the Dragon judged they had come to where the crossbeaks
had seen the Dragon. Then he angled north toward the
Snow Mountains. Through air void of all moisture. Snow

Don Callander

Mountains appeared sharp and clear, as though modeled in
blue clay on a tan tabletop.

For hours the Dragon flew straight toward them without
seeming to get any closer.

"Distances are hard to estimate in this clear air,"
Furbetrance worried aloud. "I wonder if the birds were
able to judge accurately?"

"Well, but their words are all we have to go on," Manda
pointed out.

"Ah, well, yes," sighed Furbetrance. "I intend to go only
a little farther. I can stand the dry and the heat below but
you'll need shelter from the cold of night and it would be
nice to find a little water."

He flew swiftly on. At last the Snow Mountains began
to rise up over them rather than just being a ragged edge to
the skyline. His passengers had been silent for some time,
hypnotized by the rhythm of wing beats and the monotony
of the scene.

"Wake up!" Furbetrance called. "I need your eyes here!
Help me find a patch of greenery. Green means water."

The four on his head stirred like sleepers awakening.
Where the mountain wall swept abruptly toward the sky
the Dragon turned at a right angle to it and flew east,.
dropping lower and lower as he went, barely skimming
the higher desert floor at the foot of towering cliffs.

"I see water courses but they're all quite dry," said
Manda, scowling into the fierce afternoon glare. "Gads!
It's hot here!"

"Shade, shade is what I seek," sang Clem under his
breath, "and cool, clear water." He leaned further forward
until Momie grasped his belt in back to keep him from
tumbling off his perch.

"There! Up that canyon!" shouted Tom. "Hey, go about!
I'm sure I saw a glint of green and sun on water."

Furbetrance banked steeply, made a tight turn, and glided
slowly into a vertical-sided canyon whose perfectly flat
floor was covered with rippled sand.

"There!" cried Manda, pointing. "That's water!"

"Further, further," urged Clem, nodding in satisfaction.
"There must be springs in the rock here. Ah!"

He guided the gliding Dragon lower until they were no
more than fifty feet off the canyon floor, just room enough

DRAGON COMPANION         129

for Furbetrance to beat his wings. They passed over short
stretches of stream that were filled with an inch or two of
murky water, but no more.

"Beware the comer!" shouted Tom to the Dragon.

"Got it!" replied Furbetrance, easily. He banked to make
the curve around a jutting rock. "Look at that! What did I
tell you?"

Before them the canyon, now fully a thousand feet deep,
widened to a thousand feet. Down its center, a long, narrow
lake filled most of the floor. Its banks were choked with
dark pine and light willow, as closely set as jungle. The
Dragon's reflection shot across the still water with him,
perfectly mirrored on the surface. The place was absolutely
silent. They saw no birds at all in the air or in the trees.

"Well," said Tom, "I think we can camp on the shore,
don't you, Furbetrance? There seems to be no danger."

"Don't be too sure," said Manda. "It's much too quiet.
You'd think there'd be birds, at least. ..."

"Only birds who would live in a place like this," Clem
reasoned, "are kinds who could fly high enough to escape
over the canyon rim. That leaves out most of 'em, except
maybe eagles and falcons—and vultures."

Furbetrance picked a smooth rock beside the lake upon
which to land. On the ground they all sat in place for a
long moment, savoring the peace and beauty of the spot
and looking for signs of life—and danger.

"Lunch!" cried Momie, sliding from the Dragon's head,
feetfirst.

"I'll gather some firewood," said Clem and he went off
to the edge of the wood to find fuel.

"Well, I must admit, this is beautiful!" Manda said after
looking about for some minutes in silence. "If someone
were to build me a comfortable castle above this tarn. . .
say over there? A few dozen loyal retainers and servants.
A marvelous place to get away from the bustle and clamor
of court life, I do say, and to be alone."

"No need for a fortress here," replied Tom. He jumped
from his perch and helped her alight.

"True enough. Princess," said the Dragon. "No one could
bother you here. A handful of men at arms could defend
the narrow places for years, as long as there was water and
food."

130 Don Callander

"I prefer to dream of it as a sort of... well, retreat,"
Manda said with a pleased laugh. "I wouldn't want it to
be a fortress."

Tom went down to the lakeside and scooped up a handful
of water to taste. The ripples of his touch spread as far as
his eye could see in wonderful, even patterns, changing
direction and constantly overlapping as the waves struck the
rocky sides of the tarn, echoing back upon themselves.

He called to Manda and they watched the show silently
together.

"I feel as if I've broken something," said Tom. "It'll take
hours for the lake to be as still as it was when we came."

"It'll be still again," promised Manda, softly. "It will
always return to stillness."

Momie and the trapper returned with armfuls of fragrant
cedar and dried pitch-pine boughs for a fire. In a few min-
utes a thread of blue smoke was rising straight as a ruler
into the unmoving air, scenting it pleasantly with cedar
and pitch. Momie boiled water from the lake for tea and
Clem carefully sliced cold meat brought from Ramhold, to
go with biscuits he was baking in front of the hot coals.

"He does it all so easily!" Momie marveled. "Cooking
is a pleasure and a necessity, I know, but he makes it an
art even here in the middle of nowhere, I vow!"

"The best part is, no matter what he cooks or where, it
always tastes good," said Manda, clapping her hands.

" 'Tis because when you're eating my cooking," chuck-
led the trapper, "you're always famished from healthy exer-
cise!"

"Maybe," laughed the princess, "but few of my Uncle
Granger's highly paid and much-honored chefs can match
you, Clem!"

"Just good, fresh ingredients and sensible preparation,"
said he, modestly. "The biscuits need to be turned end for
end, my lass," he said to Momie. "To cook 'em evenly on
all sides. A campfire is not like an oven in your castle
home!"

They sat on the smooth, cool rock in the shade of one
enormous willow at the water's edge and ate lunch cheer-
fully together.

"If there is this place," said Tom around a mouthful of
tender, buttery biscuit and cold roast lamb, "there may be

DRAGON COMPANION         131

other such hidden oases in other valleys and canyons. And
perhaps signs of Retruance are hidden in one of them."

"I suppose we can investigate them all, in time," sighed
Manda. "Thank goodness for Dragon-flying. It'd take a
century on horseback!"

"There're not really that many canyons to explore, if
we stay in the area indicated by the crossbeaks," Clem
reasoned. "We can fly over them as we come to them.
Should be able to spot sign of Dragon when we come to
it."

"Yes, you've said Dragon-sign is hard to miss," said
Furbetrance. "Well, I suppose that's because we never had
any reason to hide our comings and goings."

"That's as I sees it," agreed Clem. "Ho, lassy! Let's
set things aright here and put out the fire. We'll return
the place as it was when we came. That's a law of the
forest."

As the pair worked, laughing and talking privately, Manda
walked along the lakeshore, studying the trees, the calm
water, and the smooth, water-rounded stones with equal
interest. The Dragon rested, his eyes closed against the
brilliant sun, lying on a flat rock in the full sun, soak-
ing up its heat, as Dragons do to recharge the furnaces
within.

Tom leaned back in the shade and built, in his imagina-
tion, a castle in air for Manda upon the far shore. This place
greatly appealed to something within him. He had always
loved lonely places.

He must have dozed off, for the next thing he knew,
Manda was calling softly to him. He popped his eyes open
and found she was bending over him, smiling lovingly.

"Come down the shore a way," she urged. "I want you
to see something beautiful."

She led him around a bend of the shoreline, into a tiny
cove overhung by huge, old willows. In the deep and crys-
talline water around their roots swam a thousand or more
tiny, golden fish, swirling and turning, weaving patterns and
breaking them apart to make another.

"Isn't that wonderful!" Manda exclaimed in a whisper.
"They're called sequins, but I've never s^en so many at
once or such magnificent ones! My father ^as a pool for
them in his courtyard in Lexor, but he has Only a fraction

132 Don Callander

of this many! What a richness they are!"

The pair knelt side by side, watching enchanted as pattern
after pattern, no two alike, were formed by the little golden
fishes.

"You like my fish?" said a deep, dry voice behind them.

They spun about, caught completely off guard, tangling
arms and legs.

Manda gasped a small scream and Tom drew breath but
couldn't muster a shout. Before them at the edge of the
wood sat an enormous, magnificently muscled, smoothly
furred golden cat with black-tufted ears and gleaming, sharp
teeth exposed in a sardonic smile.

"Er, ah, oh, yes!" stuttered the Librarian, smiling back
rather weakly. "Splendid show, the fish."

The cat sank to its stomach and blinked back at them,
comfortably.

"Ah, I'm Princess Royal Alix Amanda," said Manda,
gathering her courage.

"I am pleased to meet you—ah—Princess," said the cat,
her tone implying a measure of disbelief, cynicism. "I am
called Julia, for some reason I have never quite understood.
I am a jaguar!"

This last was dropped into a silence as deep as the pool
at their feet.

"I, ah, I've never seen a jaguar as large or as beautiful as
you, Julia," Tom said politely. "Most jaguars where I come
from are a third your size."

"Well, yes, we do grow large here," admitted the cat,
beginning to groom her ears with a forepaw dampened with
a rough, pink tongue. "What is your name, please?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot my manners in my surprise,"
cried Manda. 'This is Thomas the Librarian of Overhall,
Achievement of Murdan the Historian."

"My, how you elfin-kind do love your fancy titles,"
mocked the jaguar. "As for me, the only title I need is
'cat,' and everyone knows who and what I am."

'That's very true! I've always thought," said Tom, "the
only title I need or want is 'Librarian.' "

"I could do without 'princess' myself," added Manda.
"It's more a big nuisance than anything I can think of."

"Modest to a fault!" chuckled the jaguar, shaking her
head. "What do you want here, eh?"

DRAGON COMPANION         133

These words were shot out unexpectedly, snapping at
them like a whip crack. The cat's eyes had suddenly turned
cold and cruel.

"Come, come! I asked you a question and I expect an
answer," Julia snarled. "You come here into my private
canyon coveting my fish and my forest! Account for your
actions. This is my territory!"

"We came looking for a friend lost in these mountains,"
said Tom, swallowing his fear, despite the fact that the
great cat was lazily running her claws in and out, tearing
daintily at the moss that covered the rock upon which
she lay.

"As he isn't here, we'll be leaving any minute," promised
Manda.

"Only if I allow it!" purred Julia. "You must know that
we jaguars are carnivores."

"I would have guessed it," said Tom, diplomatically.

"Meat isn't too easy to come by here in my little box
canyon. I have all the fish I care to eat, of course, and
an occasional desert hare wanders in—stringy, dry, bitter
critters they are, at best."

"It explains why there are no birds," Manda whispered.

"Birds? If I can catch them, I eat them," said Julia, with
the most wicked smile imaginable. "Unfortunately, they've
learned to stay away from my canyon."

"So these sequins are your larder?" Manda asked,
shivering despite the desert heat.

"What? Of course not! " cried the cat, jumping to her
feet. "Destroy such beauty? Never!"

"I'm so sorry!" cried Manda, jumping back to the very
edge of the lake.

"I am a cultured creature," said Julia coldly, swishing her
tail angrily. "I don't eat beautiful things, my dear self-styled
princess. I must point out, therefore, that I wouldn't hesitate
to devour you. You aren't so pretty as all that!"

"You may not think me pretty," Manda retorted, anger in
her eyes and her stance, "but I am a princess and I won't
allow you or anyone to deny me that!"

"Well! Fire in the royal eye, eh?" the great cat jeered.
"I've decided that you are what you say you are, after all.
Welcome, Princess Alix Amanda, to my hidden lair. I've
never had a real princess for dinner before."

134 Don Callander

"We've just had lunch, and we've got to be running
along, now, very sorry and all that," Manda said hastily.
"Maybe some other time!"

"What, running away already? How distressing!"

"We must find our friend we told you about," said Tom,
taking Manda's hand and edging off up the way they had
come. "Retruance may be in danger!"

"Too bad for him!" sneered the cat, moving forward on
her belly after them, gathering her hind legs to spring.
"What's a retruance, anyway?"

"A Dragon!" said a very slow, thunder-deep, sulfurous
voice from high overhead. "A large, fierce, fire-breathing,
foul-tempered Dragon half again as big as me, who isn't
particularly fond of cats of any size."

Julia leaped up, startled. Her jaw fell open. She cringed
back, flat against a willow's trunk.

"Retruance is also my brother," continued Furbetrance,
more calmly. "And I take most unkindly to anyone or
anything standing in the way of rescuing him."

Julia rolled over on her back, wriggled her hips and
shoulders imploringly, and stuck all four paws in the air,
claws well retracted into her pads.

"D-d-d-dragon? How interesting!" she gulped. "Bigger
than you, eh?"

"Much bigger!" breathed Furbetrance, charring half a
willow and sending it into flame. "Introduce us. Princess.
If I have to incinerate this haughty feline I'd like her to
know my name."

Manda grinned in relief and made the introductions quite
formally. The huge cat remained on her backside, paws in
air, but nodded politely to the Dragon leaning over her,
breathing tiny puffs of acrid smoke.

"Very pleased! Wish I could stay to chat, but must run
along," Julia purred jerkily. "Understand you have urgent
business in hand yourself. Master Dragon!"

"Oh, get to your feet!" sniffed the Dragon. "I hate a
groveler!"

"It seemed best to do a little groveling rather than a little
smoldering," said Julia, regaining her feet and showing her
most pleasant smile. "Nothing personal, beautiful Princess
Alix Amanda and handsome young Librarian! Well, nice to
have made your acquaintances, all!"

DRAGON COMPANION         135

She started to draw back into the trees, bowing and
smiling warmly at them as she left but keeping her eye on
the Dragon towering over the trees at the water's edge.

"Wait a minute!" Tom called after her. "Have you heard
of any unusual happenings in this neighborhood, Julia? A
Dragon flying overhead? Anything at all to help us find
Retruance?"

The jaguar paused just within the trees, sat on her
haunches, and scratched her muzzle thoughtfully.

"Come to think of it," she said, "I've been hearing strange
rumblings from over to the east a ways. If it weren't so far
over the hot ridges and rocks, I'd have gone to investigate,
out of curiosity. But you know what they say about curiosity
and cats."

"I do indeed," replied Tom. "Thank you, Julia. We'll
listen for these rumblings."

A moment later the cat had disappeared. Furbetrance
scooped the young couple up and placed them atop his head
in front of the maid and the trapper who had watched the
confrontation with the jaguar with more glee than concern.

"This is not Overhall or Lexor," the Dragon chided Manda
and Tom severely. "No more wandering off! Lucky for you
we were ready to go and came to find you just then."

"She didn't seem so very wicked," Manda protested now
that she was safe. "I might have liked her, you know!"

Furbetrance snorted derisively. "She might make a good
friend, providing she wasn't hungry."

"You have to make allowances for an animal's nature,"
Clem admonished them. "We men are meat eaters and don't
hesitate to kill for food. Why should we be surprised when
a jaguar kills to feed herself?"

"I wasn't surprised," wept Manda, burying her face in
Tom's shoulder and clinging to him. "I was terrified!"

"And will not wander off again without telling me where
you're going, eh?" asked Furbetrance.

"Yes, Furbetrance Constable," the princess answered
meekly.

The next two canyons were dry as old bones and about
the same color. The third, which they reached very late
in the afternoon, long after the sunshine had ceased to
reach the canyon's floor, was graced with a small, tangled
copse of greasewood and stunted cedars around a spring

136               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

137

of sweet water that tinkled from a cleft in the rock and
fell into a rock basin barely larger than a horse trough at
Overhall.

"No big, hungry carnivores, here," announced Clem after
a careful scout. "It's a safer place to spend the dark hours
than the other one."

They set about pitching tents and making a good fire, for
the barren canyon, as soon as the sun's rays left the bottom,
turned quite cold.

"Small hungry beasties we do have," said Tom. He
pointed to several pairs of yellow eyes watching them
from the dark. As they turned to look, the eyes blinked
and disappeared.

"Come on in and share supper with us," called Clem,
making clicking noises with his tongue, as men call a dog.
"Here, girl! Come, boy! Supper is ready to eat."

But the shining eyes didn't reappear, nor did their owners
come to supper.

"COMPANION!" hissed Furbetrance, urgently shaking the
Librarian by the shoulder. "Hoy! Wake and listen, Tom!"

Tom shrugged off his blanket. The cold night air awoke
him at once.

He crawled from his tent, being careful not to awaken
the trapper or the Princess and her maid in the other tent.
No moon shone, at least not in the slice of sky visible from
the canyon floor, but a million stars provided enough light
to move around the edge of the pool to where the Dragon
waited, his head lifted, listening intently.

"What?" asked the sleepy Librarian.

"Wait! Something I heard a moment ago. Maybe it'll
repeat itself."

They stood in the cold starlight for a long time, hardly
daring to breathe. Tom began to shiver.

"What was it?"

"The strange sort of rumblings the cat spoke about, I
think. It sounded familiar, somehow."

"Well, I'm turning to ice," said Tom at last. "You listen
all you want, but I'm going back under my blanket."

He had just turned back to the tents when he heard
it. It reminded him of a distant someone rolling a grand
piano over the stone floor of a vast and empty warehouse,

bell-like, musical in tone. The Librarian and the Dragon
listened as it rose and fell and finally faded away
entirely.

"Well, what do you make of that?" asked Tom. He'd
forgotten his chill.

"I've heard that somewhere before," mused Furbetrance.
"I have the merest recollection.. . ."

"It was familiar to me, too," admitted Tom, mystified.
The two sat on a broad rock beside the tiny pool as dawn
began to light the thin strip of sky overhead. The sound
didn't recur.

THE next morning they checked into three more canyons,
finding each dry and short, none extending more than a mile
or two back into the mountain range's flank.

Now that they had some idea of what they sought, the
Dragon didn't waste time backtracking to the desert after
exploring each valley, but soared over intervening ridges
and dropped down only when they decided a canyon was
worth investigating.

"Too narrow, you see?" called Clem, who had the best
eye for distances and proportions. "A full-grown Dragon
would have trouble squeezing through that cleft, wouldn't
you say, friend Furbetrance?"

Furbetrance eyed the narrow gap. "I am sure / couldn't
get through there," he said, "and Retruance is bigger'n
me."

'Try one more before lunch," urged Tom. "We've cov-
ered a lot of ground this morning, fellows! Don't lose
heart!"

Manda wet her handkerchief with water from a canteen
and wiped her eyelids and lips. The hot desert air made
their eyes sting from grit and cracked lips painfully in a
few minutes. "I must look a true fright!"

Furbetrance climbed over the next knife-edge ridge.
Momie burrowed in one of the rucksacks she and her
Princess had brought along, at length finding a small stone
jar of ointment.

"Try this, ma'am," she said, handing it to Manda. "It may
help your lips, at least."

"Thank you, Momie!" cried Manda. "Oh, they feel better
already."

138

DRAGON COMPANION         139

Don Callander

She passed the jar on to Tom and then to Clem, who
declared it was better than goose grease, which was used
for the same purpose, up north.

"You use it, too, Momie," Manda insisted.

"There is so little in the jar," protested the maid.

Manda examined the jar bottom closely and shook her
head.

"This is a lotion prepared by an old household sprite who
served my Aunt Phyllis. The jar itself has a spell that keeps
it ever filled."

"Handy to have on a trip like this," said Clem,
approvingly. "Your sprite could make a fortune out here
providing canteens that never emptied."

"I'm afraid, yes, that we are overusing water supplies,"
agreed Tom. "Furbetrance, unless we find clean water in
this canyon, we may have to turn back to the spring where
we spent the night."

"It's not all that far," said the Dragon. "Look this one
over," he added, referring to the next canyon. "It looks like
a deep one and long, too!"

He banked to follow the run of the new canyon. His
passengers peered down into the shadowy depths of the
great rift in the mountainside. If it has been earlier or later,
they could not have seen the bottom at all for the shadows,
but now, near noon, the sun shot its rays straight down into
the deepest part.

"Water!" cried Clem. "Not a little but quite a bit, friends.
See there?"

The new canyon ended in a sheer, blank wall over which
a steady stream of water fell, dashing itself to silver spray
in a deep catchment below.

With the spray and the water, a fair grove of oaks, aspens,
and larches had taken root in the canyon bottom, and grass
dressed the sand-and-gravel flood plain of past springtime
freshets. The miniature meadow was covered with a thick
blanket of yellow daisies.

"Go down," cried Manda. "That water looks so good!"

Furbetrance alighted softly in the midst of the daisies
and his passengers tumbled off his head to run and taste
the water of the stream. In a few moments they all were
splashing gleefully under the fall itself, washing away days
of accumulated dust and fatigue.

"Let's have lunch!" cried Tom, exhilarated by the cold
water and the odor of the flowers that perfumed the soft air
of the box canyon.

"My turn to cook," claimed Manda and, together with
Momie, she set about laying out lunch for the four while
the Dragon sauntered off to explore the lower canyon from
ground level.

"Quite a lot of water comes into the canyon," observed
Tom after their meal. "Where do you think it goes when it
reaches the desert? It doesn't all evaporate, does it?"

"Probably," answered Clem. Manda and Momie had gone
to the edge of the brook to wash the lunch dishes and repack
them for another flight. "The sand of the desert is very loose
and porous, however. It's possible the water sinks in and runs
down to Carolna River, way to the south, without appearing
aboveground again. Never been there, but I hear to the south
of the river are swamps and jungles. Place of crocodiles and
hippopotamuses, they tell me. Not many people live there—
or at least, not the civilized sort."

"Manda was saying that the new young queen—Beatrix, I
think she is named—came from that part of the country."

"I believe that's right," replied Clem. "What's that
noise?"

Tom sat up to listen. Down by the stream Momie and
Manda stopped chattering and rattling pans to listen, too.

Tom said, "It sounds like... the sound we heard last
night! Rumbling, sort of, but with a musical tone of some
deep, bass sort."

Manda waved her hand and shouted, "It's just our talent-
ed Dragon, vocalizing."

Furbetrance appeared from downstream, making the noise
until he stopped in embarrassment, realizing that the others
were listening.

"Just enjoying the echoes and acoustics," he explained
sheepishly. "If it bothers you, I'll forgo the experiment."

"No, no!" cried Manda, rushing over to hug the Dragon's
foreleg, or as much of it as she could reach. "I love to hear
people singing. It makes me happy!"

Tom was looking at Clem, speculatively.

"Did you hear the sound last night, Clem?"

"Aye. As I was about to sleep, I heard it and heard you
and the Dragon speaking of it. Yes."

140               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

141

Furbetrance, noting their seriousness, strolled over,
munching a clawful of daisies.

"That singing, just now," began Tom.

"I've apologized," huffed the Dragon.

"No, no, old fire pot," said Clem. "When we first heard it,
before we saw you coming up the creek bed, it sounded just
like the rumble bumble we heard last night, and it couldn't
have been you then."

"Didn't sound like that to me," protested the Dragon.

"It's the echoes off the canyon walls," deduced Tom.
"They make the sounds quite different, more sustained,
deeper, sort of mixed together."

"Very interesting," commented the Dragon. "Shall we
mount up and go on?"

"You're missing the point altogether!" cried Tom. "The
sound we heard last night was almost exactly the sound you
made, just now."

"But I didn't make any sound last night," objected Fur-
betrance.

"That's the point! If you didn't make the Dragon sounds
last night, then who did make the Dragon sounds last
night?"

"Only one other Dragon in these parts I know of,"
prompted Clem.

"Retruance!" shouted Furbetrance, leaping fifteen feet
into the air and clashing his wings together. "We heard
Retruance singing!"

"If we heard him, maybe he can hear us and tell us
where he is," exclaimed Manda. "Let's return to last night's
camp!"

"Come on!" shouted Furbetrance, and as soon as the
lunch things had been replaced in his saddlebags and his
passengers were aboard, he flung himself at the sky and
headed west.

IT wasn't as easy as all that.

"These hills and ridges change their appearance as the
sun moves," Furbetrance complained. "How many canyons
did we pass over without looking, this morning?"

"Five," said Manda.

"No, six," contradicted the Librarian. "I counted, just to
be sure."

"I hate people who're efficient," exclaimed Manda. "How
many do you say, Clem?"

"I would guess, only, and I would guess—six or maybe
seven," said the trapper. "Now, that one looks familiar."

"Not to me," wailed the Dragon. He began to speed.

"A bit slower, old boy," warned Clem. "It'll be easier to
see landmarks."

"Sorry!" said the Dragon, and he applied his air brakes
and soared instead like a giant kite, sliding down the slopes
of warm air rising from the rocky ridges.

"That's better!" shouted Clem. "Me, I watch landmarks,
and I swear that pinnacle over there is at the head of the
canyon we left this morning."

"You're right," called Momie.

"Fly that way," Manda told the Dragon, pointing. In a
few minutes they arrived at the pinnacle in question only
to find no canyon.

"Could it be magic? Is someone fuddling our eyesight or
memories?" Momie wondered.

"No! Not magic," the fur trapper said emphatically. 'This
sort of thing happens all the time in wilderness. I'm still
looking for a peak that is twin to the one we saw a moment
ago. There! To the south and a bit east. Yes, our canyon
was not as long as we thought."

This time they found the right valley and followed it to
the spring, the tiny pool, and its runoff.

"Now what?" asked Furbetrance. "I don't hear the sing-
ing now."

"Noise, singing, whatever," said Tom. "Perhaps if Fur-
betrance sang in the narrow part of the canyon, it would
produce the same effect in reverse. If it's really Retruance,
maybe he'll hear and answer!"

"I'll try," said Furbetrance. "Wait here."

"Stop every minute or so, so we can hear if there's a
reply," advised Tom. The Dragon nodded his understanding
and trotted off down the stream bank and around a comer,
out of sight.

In a moment they heard him humming in a deep basso
voice and, now that they knew what it was, they could
recognize an occasional word. The hard, flat, vertical walls
distorted and rearranged the echoes and timbres of the Dra-
gon's song.

142               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

143

"It sounds like somebody rolling a big empty barrel down
the aisle of an empty church," murmured Manda, slipping
her hand into Tom's.

"Or a piano being rolled in an empty room. That's what
I thought of last night when I first heard it. There, he's
stopped!"

Silence for a full minute.

The song began again and went on for a much longer
time.

Silence again.

"Keep trying!" called Manda. And the singing, roar-
ing, mumbling, rumbling, humming, whispering, keening
resumed.

"Changed his tune now," said Manda. "I think it's 'A-
Milking We Went,' isn't it, Momie?"

"More like 'A Changeling's Tale,' " replied the maid,
tilting her head to one side, the better to hear.

"I don't know either of those," said Tom, softly.

"I learned them from my mother," said Furbetrance's
voice, coming nearer, "and I'm sure Retruance did, too."

"Purbie! That's not you singing now?" they all cried
together.

"Not me! I heard Manda call something and came to see
what it was she said. Words don't carry well here, although
music does, it seems."

"That's Retruance's voice, I'm sure of it!" cried Tom. "I
thought it was familiar."

"I'm sure, also. Where is it coming from?" Furbetrance
said in anguish.

The singing faded away and Tom signaled the Dra-
gon to resume his recital. "Try something you both know
well, so he can be sure it's you, and we can be sure he
is hearing us. We'll try to work out where it's coming
from."

So as the Dragon sang, one by one, his Dragonet songs
and nursery rhymes, filling the canyon with deep, strum-
ming, humming, and rolling vibrations, something between
a bass viol, the lower register on a harp, and a mellow
tuba, the others spread out, listening carefully whenever
Purbetrance fell silent.

Tom climbed the end wall of the box canyon near where
the spring gushed forth. The sound seemed clearer, closer.

Manda hiked up her skirts and waded across the pool, keep-
ing her ear close to the water. The sound was no louder here
than elsewhere, she thought.

Clem, his ears undulled by years of noisy crowds in
towns and castles, stood in the very middle of the pool,
near the soft splash of the tiny in-flow, letting it soak his
trousers to the knees.

He called, "The sound issues from the spring, itself!"

Tom waded into the icy water. Manda came behind him.
They stood listening. Momie and Furbetrance stood on the
bank, saying nothing.

"Retruance, old friend!" shouted Tom, with his mouth
close to the spot, a mere crack, from which the water
issued.

Very, very faintly they heard a reply from deep within
the rock.

"Is it you. Librarian? I knew you'd come sooner or
later!"

^14^
Murdan Wins the Draw

MURDAN the Historian, Lord ofOverhall Achievement, rose
early and was looking from Foretower window with a wor-
ried and ill-pleased gaze. Graham, the captain of his guard,
knocked on his chamber door and entered.

"He's there, now," Graham puffed and huffed—the two-
flight climb to Murdan's apartments was getting more and
more difficult as the years caught up with him.

"He won't come within the walls?" asked Murdan, not
turning.

"No, sir! Said he preferred the open air to a falling-down,
musty old pile like Overhall."

"Damned young puppy!" swore the Historian. "Well, the
better for us, then. 'Twould be a messy, noisy, nosy Gantrell
crowd if they all wanted shelter within. I wonder if Arcolas

144 Don Callander

could raise a good rainstorm while he's here, living in that
gaudy palace of a tent."

"He's already demanded the release of the Sponge,"
Graham said, pulling a wry face.

"Well, in a different case I'd give him up and gladly, but
that pale, hungover worm kidnapped my only and beloved
daughter and my grandchildren! I'll see him before the
king! It's time that Gantrell lordling learned that Carolna's
ruled by law, not by the whims of men."

"Yes, sir!" replied the soldier, standing at ease.

"I'll tell Gantrell about it myself this afternoon. Turned
down my invitation to lunch, even, did he?"

"That he did," answered Graham.

"His loss, not mine! No camp cookie can prepare a meal
like my castle chefs can."

Murdan leaned over his worktable. He scribbled a note
to speak to Mistress Grumble about lunch.

"I'll lunch on the parapet above the main gate. You and
all my staff will lunch with me. Grumble can arrange
something really spectacular and make sure all Lord Peter's
people see us enjoying ourselves. After lunch, I'll go down
and sit in my gold armchair on the drawbridge exactly
halfway across the span. And I'll wait. If Peter of Gantrell
wants to bespeak me, he'll have to come to the draw—and
bring his own chair if he wants to sit."

"Sounds all sort of... well. .. childish," said the
straightforward Graham.

"Of course it is! But the alternative is to stand on the
battlements and yell at each other. He pretends he won't
come inside our gates out of fear, but what he really wants
is to make me look ungracious, disrespectful of his rank,
and personally ridiculous."

Murdan made a note to have his hair cut before lunch.

"He's said nothing yet about the princess?"

"No, Historian. Only asked for Fredrick of Brevory."

Murdan peered again from his window.

"I'm wondering who sent him word of the captive,"
Graham said.

"Peter's no fool. That's the tragedy of this vicious, ambi-
tious infighting. He'd be valuable to the crown, would he
agree to work in harmony with the king."

"There've been other ambitious lordlings," recalled Gra-

DRAGON COMPANION         145

ham. "Some have succeeded, I think."

"Conflict's a way of ensuring a strong nobility and an
effective royalty. But Gantrell's ambitions are not for
Carolna, but for himself alone. Not even for his children—
he has none! He has little interest in his brother's offspring,
Manda says."

"Between us old friends, he may be more able than you
or I would like to acknowledge. Without our opposition,"
observed the soldier, holding the Historian's cape out to
him, "his ambitions would be poorly thwarted."

"Well, perhaps. I really just don't like Peter or his attitude
or his methods. He's already made a lot of enemies for the
crown, and Eduard needs all the friends he can get these
days."

"You refer to the Barbarians?"

"Don't sneer! I've fought them, Graham! With halfway
capable leadership they could overrun us all in less than
a year."

"They've absolutely no idea of military tactics!" scoffed
the other as they left the apartment and descended the
stair to ground level together. "A well-disposed and well-
trained army a third their strength would beat the Barbarians
anytime. Lord Historian!"

"History shows, time and again, outsiders leam to play
one inside faction against another and when the dust clears,
the outsiders are the ones on the throne. Man, that's how
the Trussloes came to power in Carolna, ten kings and a
queen ago!"

"Not the same thing!" cried Graham. "Trussloes were
minor northener earls before they offered to help old King
Cristol. They weren't Barbarians, sire!"

"It depends on your definition of 'barbarian,' " growled
Murdan. "My mother's Great-Great-Grandsire used to tell
how he personally had to teach Eduard Two himself which
fork to use at table and not to belch after. And their practice
was to expose unwanted female babies, I recall."

"Not in modern times! And from Trussloes came Alix
Amanda, the Queen Alone!" objected Graham, waving
his hands in agitation. "If Trussloes held women in such
low regard—as Barbarians invariably do—why would they
allow a Queen Alone on the Throne, let alone almost wor-
ship her?"

146               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

147

"Trussloes are, above all, political realists," Murdan told
him. "Most Barbarians are. We'll have to deal eventually
with this new batch of outsiders, and I don't want them
assisted by internecine warfare between the king and his
brother-in-law."

Graham turned to go about his business, but halted to
ask one more question.

"Have we of the king's party considered dealing with
Granger of Gantrell? From what I hear ..."

"Manda also asked that. My answer to her was that
Granger is too much under his brother's thumb. He has
shown too few signs of thinking or acting on his own
principles—if he has any. We'll watch him closely, as
the princess thinks he may be on his way to independ-
ent thought. She's a good judge of men. Well, she's a
Trussloe!"

"She has the best of the two bloodlines, I would say,"
said Graham, saluting in farewell. "I go to inspect the
guard. Everything must be exactly right, and there must
be no compromises with security, with Gantrells close to
hand."

"I don't want any Gantrells sneaking into my castle,"
Murdan barked after him. "That's how the Mercenary
Knights managed to overcome your guard, remember?"

"Not bloody likely to forget," muttered the embarrassed
captain of guards. He went his way, highly determined to
leam from past mistakes.

Yet, thought Murdan to himself, pausing to pinch faded
blossoms from a pot of red geraniums, it would be no sort
of life to lead if we have to give up the old traditions of
hospitality for fear visitors will overpower our soldiers and
lower the draw after midnight. And it's men like Peter
of Gantrell who, unwittingly or otherwise, turn such fine
amenities into foolishness!

He sent for his barber and submitted to having his iron gray
locks trimmed, combed, and perfumed while he conferred
with the cook and Mistress Grumble about the lunch on the
parapet and the meeting on the drawbridge afterwards.

Everything must go well. Gantrell was a formidable oppo-
nent, even in peaceful converse. He'd take full advantage of
the smallest error of deed or tongue.

His thoughts turned to Princess Alix Amanda and her
father and her stepmother.

Eduard, I've been keeping one thing from you, feeling
that I should not add to your burden just now. Manda is in
love and it seems to me, an old hand at such things, that this
is quite serious. The Librarian must be reckoned with. Our
Manda won't allow anyone to cross her in matters of the
heart. She already knows what manner of queen she will be,
if it comes to that. For her sake, I hope you and your new
bride are successful in giving the crown a male claimant!

As he began his lunch on the breezy, hot parapet, he
mused aloud on the matter.

"Manda may be queen, and a good one. Tom may be
her consort. Will he insist on a crown? Will she want it
for him? I'm willing to bet she'll insist on making him
co-ruler. In truth, they'll both be much happier if Beatrix
bears a healthy boy-child.

"How easily we condemn an unborn innocent to a life-
time of frustration, anguish, and perhaps physical danger!
We're not very civilized, after all, are we? The Barbarians
don't allow their rulers to force their sons and daughters
upon them. They elect the best available leader and live
with the results, or die with them."

"Not the worst way of governing," Graham concluded.

"Pass the salt, you, there," Murdan growled. A page
jumped forward from his place to move the salt within
reach.

By turning his head and looking out over the parapet, the
Historian could see the Gantrell encampment, just about
where he'd camped himself while besieging his own castle.
Before Thomas came.

Brightly costumed figures in front of Gantrell's vast tent
were having a picnic, the Historian noted.

"My own game, played back to me!" He laughed aloud.
"Well, Peter, I was playing this game when your grand-
father was a wee lad playing with lath sword and paper
buckler."

Five minutes before he planned to appear on the draw-
bridge, Murdan sent for Graham again. This time they met
in Foretower bailey, surrounded by soldiers and Overhall
retainers, each in his or her very best and brightest costume
or uniform.

"Well, I'm ready to go out. Any word from your watch-
ers?"

148 Don Callander

"What looks like a holiday party from afar is in reality an
armed squadron," said Graham grimly. "He's even dressed
some of his men in dresses and skirts, to make it appear
a pleasure outing. They're nervous, too, to judge by the
reports, all a-fingering of swords and daggers and talking
by jerks and starts."

"A good sign! He realizes he stands on loose turf, then,
and is trying to put a bold face on it."

"As I see it, yes," replied the old soldier. "He's to be
accompanied hither by a dozen of his best, their arms
hidden beneath their cloaks."

"The span of the drawbridge allows no more than that.
I'll go out unattended, except for you. Captain. Your shirt-
waist is pulling out from your trousers, there. Oh, well,
don't fret about it. I'll not put on such a show as Peter.
You have your signals straight with the bowmen above?"

"If I push you to the ground, they'll know to shoot into
the Gantrell crowd. We should have time to get inside and
drop the portcullis, under the cover of their shooting. Did
you wear half-armor under that blouse, as I recommended?"

"No! Too damned bulky and would slow me down, if we
have to run for it," snorted Murdan. "Besides, Arcolas has
produced a pretty good spell of warding that should protect
you and me for long enough to get inside."

"If not, your people will be pledging fealty to Ffallmar of
Ffallmar, tomorrow," said the blunt soldier.

"I trust Peter Gantrell no further than you do, Graham,
my friend, but I don't think he's ready for open warfare,
just yet. Well, let's see what he wants to talk about, and
make him listen to what we have to say."

"One more thing," murmured Graham close to his ear.

"Say it quickly, then."

"A man was seen to leave the Overhall postern against
orders, very early this morning."

"A swain aching for his beloved? A farmer concerned
about a sick cow?" teased Murdan, laughing.

Graham remained grim, not meeting the Historian's joke
with a smile.

"No, sire! The man who went out to visit Gantrell's camp
before dawn and returned soon after was your comptroller."

"Plume? That slimy, skinny worm! I haven't trusted him

DRAGON COMPANION         149

since he came. He doesn't laugh or even smile when he
should. Keep an eye on him! In the meantime, he's the best
accountant I've ever paid to do my arithmetic."

"You don't want to arrest him and perhaps ask him some
pointed questions, then?" asked Graham.

"Hardly! Better to let him think he's getting away with
something than have to discover who his replacement might
be. Speak softly and carry a long spear, I say!"

"As you wish, sire!" agreed Graham. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," agreed the Historian. He turned to
his gathered minions and called, "On your toes, every-
one!"

"Raise the portcullis! Lower the draw!" shouted the cap-
tain, and with a great rumble the counterbalanced grille and
the heavy bridge moved, opening the main gate wide.

"DEAR Historian, how good to see you!" said Peter of
Gantrell. "I am pleased that you regained your Achievement
so easily from the wicked mercenaries."

"Yes, I don't doubt you in the least, m'lord. Fortu-
nately," said Murdan, smoothly, rising halfway from his
golden chair to greet the young nobleman, "the Mercenary
Knights proved no match for Graham's soldiers once we
got home."

"I hear your pet Dragon had something to do with the
defeat of the invaders," said Peter, gesturing for his footman
to place a red-lacquered chair facing the Historian. The
needlepoint cushion showed a Standing Bear.

"Please sit down and let us talk," said Murdan before the
other could seat himself without being asked.

Gantrell sat, looking displeased for just a moment, and
opened his mouth to begin speaking.

Murdan got in his words first. "I regret to inform you
that I am holding a criminal, a man attached to your house.
Brevory by name."

"We can talk of him at a later time," said Peter, waving
in dismissal. "He is of no importance to me."

"Then I'll not mention him again," said Murdan, quickly.
"Except to say that I intend to hold him for Session in
the fall. He'll be charged with kidnapping a lady of high
degree . .. my own daughter, as it happens."

"Er, I'm so very pleased that Lady Rosemary was able

150

DRAGON COMPANION         151

Don Callander

to escape her captors, then," said the magnate.

"You've heard about that? Hardly an escape, really. She
was rescued by two young friends of mine before any seri-
ous harm could be done. Your man, Predrick of Brevory,
will be held responsible for the crime and the insult. Per-
haps he acted on his own. I'm sure he'd quickly inform on
anyone putting him up to it, when the king asks," Murdan
said innocently, smiling broadly at the thought.

Peter of Gantrell scowled. "I want justice done to such
a wicked young man."

"Of course you do! Have no fear. Lord Peter. The king
will hear the case, I am assured. His will be the judg-
ment ... and the punishment, too, if I remember my law."

"The king himself! You surprise me. Historian. A terrible
waste of the royal prerogative to insist that Eduard sit in
judgment of a minor felon like this Brevory fellow."

"Not minor to me!" snarled Murdan. Regaining his com-
posure quickly, he went on, "You can understand my feel-
ings, I'm sure. Rosemary is my daughter, my only child.
Her son, Eduard of Ffallmar, is my only male heir. If I seem
overly angered by this terrible act, I must be forgiven by all
fathers and mothers."

"I am neither myself," snapped Peter. "But I am so sorry,
old chap! I have led us off on a side issue. . .."

"Not at all! I knew you would be interested to know the
fate I have in mind for this Brevory person. By the way,
m'lord, where's the Brevory Achievement, anyway? I don't
know of it."

Peter turned several shades darker crimson but answered
calmly, as though it were of no importance, "He is, as you
have noted, a distant relative and a former liege man of
mine, holder of a poor, small Achievement not far west
of Lexor. If you weren't going to try him, I'd have done
it myself. Wicked! Perverted!"

"Yes, I'm sure you'd like to have a hand in his just
punishment," agreed Murdan, somewhat smugly. "I'll let
you know if he says anything under interrogation that might
interest you."

"Kind of you, I'm sure," Gantrell ground out. "Now . . ."

"I am so sorry. You had something you wished to discuss
with me?" said Murdan, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, my good Historian, that I was appointed the
legal guardian of Princess Royal Alix Amanda? Appointed
by King Eduard, of course."

"Oh, I am very well aware of it! I understand she has
been in the actual care of some lesser magnate for some
years."

"Hardly a lesser magnate," snapped the lordling. "My
own younger brother. Granger, has been raising her with
his own two children. She has had nothing but the very
best care, believe me!"

"Oh? I wasn't aware of that," lied Murdan. He ges-
tured to one of his servants to bring him a drink. The
sun on the drawbridge was quite fierce. Certainly, Lord
Peter was perspiring freely. The Historian didn't offer him
a drink.

"I thought you might have heard it from her, when she
visited you recently," Lord Peter said pointedly.

"Princess Royal Alix Amanda? Here? I've been away
at court, as you were, also. When I returned, my cas-
tle had been stolen from me and I had to devote a bit
of time and attention to remedying that. No, I haven't
seen the Princess Royal, bless her heart, since . . . well, for
some time. Beautiful child! Quite bright and well mannered,
too. Your brother Granger must be doing a good job rais-
ing her."

"I must have been badly misinformed, then," Peter said
through clenched teeth. "I was told she was here until four
days ago, and left with one of your servants, riding on one
of your Dragons."

"You were misinformed, of course," Murdan chuckled
smoothly. "For example, I have only one Dragon in my
service and he hasn't been here for some weeks. Certainly
I would have known it, if a Princess Royal had been in my
house."

"I am not sure you're being entirely honest with me ...,"
began Peter, his eyes narrowing in the anger he was finding
increasingly hard to suppress.

"Easy, Lord Gantrell! You of all people must know what
trouble it can be to accuse a peer of being a liar. Are you
prepared for such a confrontation?"

There was silence on the bridge except for the gentle
murmur of Gugglerun in the moat beneath them. Not a man

152               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

153

at arms in the open gate or on the battlements above moved
a hair. Everyone within earshot had heard the implied insult
and the specific challenge.

The game had reached a dangerous point.

Peter of Gantrell took a deep breath and slumped a bit
in his chair.

"I am understandably upset, of course. Lord Historian.
The princess is my responsibility, and that of my family.
We must recover her soon or face the king's justifiable
wrath and Session's certain censure."

"You haven't told Eduard of his daughter's disappear-
ance, yet?" asked the Historian in mock consternation.

"Not officially, no," said Peter. "I had hoped that we
would find her here, and . .."

"Well, if I see her, I will send her to you, or rather to
Granger. Better yet, if she comes to me I'll bring her myself
to Lexor. That way she'll be held safe until she sees you and
your brother again. And her father, of course."

"Have you told the king of her absence?" asked Gantrell.

"How could I, when I didn't know she had disappeared
until you told me, just now? I'll write to His Majesty at
once and tell him of our conversation and that I will take
every step to locate his missing child. He's not to worry
about her, of course."

"Of course!" replied Gantrell with a resigned sigh. He
rose abruptly and stood, uncertain whether to break off the
conversation or drive conflict deeper between them.

"Is there anything else?" asked Murdan, smiling in a most
friendly way, showing he had forgotten the lordling's insult
of a moment before.

"No, no, no ... I think we've reached an understanding
on these matters. You wouldn't consider turning Brevory
over to my own marshal, would you? I could bring him in
to Lexor for trial."

"No, I am committed to keeping him safely in custo-
dy," said the Historian bluntly. "He might be dangerous
to you, m'lord. Better wait until he comes with me to
Lexor."

"Oh, well, yes," muttered Peter, his manner distracted.
"On the matter of the girl.. ."

"You mean the matter of Her Highness, Princess Royal
Alix Amanda?" said Murdan stiffly.

"Yes, yes. One hopes nothing untoward happens to her.
The future of the kingdom hangs upon her safety and
well-being. No one would want her harmed, certainly not
accidentally or... otherwise."

"I take your meaning," responded Murdan. "I'll convey
your feelings to the lady, if and when I see her. Which may
not be soon, of course."

"Oh, by the way, I've heard you've taken a new Librarian
into your service," said Peter as he turned away. "You are
most fortunate."

"Even more so than you might think," the Historian told
him. "His name is Thomas and he is, wonder of wonders,
a human!"

Gantrell's back, turned to the Historian, jerked violently
at this and he glanced back over his shoulder.

"A human, you say! How droll! Do you actually believe
in human beings. Historian? I eschewed such myths when
I was a baby."

"Oh, there are humans, albeit very rare. Thomas the
Librarian is a rare individual. He's been very useful to me
already in the few short weeks since he came to Overhall."

"If you tire of him," said Peter with a frosty smile,
"send him to me and I'll give him plenty of work to
do."

"Perhaps we can share his expertise one day," suggested
Murdan pleasantly.

The lordling stalked away, followed by his dozen men,
their concealed weapons causing them to shuffle awkward-
ly. Their departure might have been dramatic, had not
Peter's footman forgotten to take along his red lacquered
chair and scurried back, much to the amusement of the
Overhall garrison, to retrieve it and scuttle down the path
after his master.

Murdan laughed as loud as anyone, partly in relief.

"All in all," he told Captain Graham, who had stood
silently by throughout, "I believe we won that skirmish,
hands down."

"Excellent, sir!" said the soldier.

"Next time it'll be a battle of spears and swords, not
sneers and words, I fear," sighed Murdan, shaking his head
sadly. "That is a stupidly proud man. Or proudly stupid
man. Who can say which?"

154 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 155

"SHE was here, I swear it!" cried Plume. It was dark beyond
the Gantrell pavilion, and only dimly lit inside. The comp-
troller stood, shaking in his dusty, scuffed boots, before
Peter of Gantrell, seated at table with a deep silver cup in
his hand. "I saw her with my own two eyes, m'lord!"

"I don't doubt your eyes," Peter snarled at the Overhall
accountant. "But you can't tell me where she is now, can
you?"

Plume hung his head in fear and shook his miserable head
slowly from side to side.

"They never confided in me, m'lord!"

"Yet you say you are among Murdan's chief advisers,
privy to all his secrets, eh?"

"So I believed. Lord Peter."

"But not so deep in the Historian's trust he will let you
know when a royal guest has departed his house? Who
cannot see a conflict here. Plume? The question is, now,
does Murdan suspect you of running to me with tales for
a few vols of silver?"

"I truly believe not, master! He consulted with me only
this late afternoon, about the receipts from his small hold-
ings. He trusts me with all his money and investments."

"Well, perhaps you're right. Plume. We'll chance it,
as nothing will happen to me if you're discovered. You,
however, can expect painful punishment, I would think."

"Hanging would be the kindest treatment I could look
for, m'lord!"

"Hanging, drawing and quartering! Being dragged behind
horses through the streets of Lexor I suspect. Well, return
to your post and keep sending me any plans the Historian
hatches and tells you about. Will you accompany him to
Lexor?"

"I imagine so, sir. He never goes to court without me."

"Is that right?" cried Gantrell. "But you weren't there
with Murdan this past spring, but here at Overhall when
it was taken. He may well be suspicious of you. Figure
out who might have opened the postem gate to Basilicae.
I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, comptroller dear, if
it's found out. Well, that's your problem! Go then!"

The accountant bobbed a quick, grateful bow and backed
out of the tent into the pitch dark of a cloudy night. A spat

of rain was falling, increasing steadily, as the sneak made
his way along the course of Gugglerun to where the stream
flowed through into the moat by a water gate.

A sudden flash of lightning revealed him running on the
narrow postern drawbridge, to the watchful eyes of three
Overhall guardsmen.

"Report him to the captain, again," said the sergeant-al-
arms, gruffly. "The sneak is back from the enemy camp!"

^15^
Under Snow

"Now what?" asked an impatient Furbetrance. "How do we
get brother Retruance out of the mountain?"

Tom sat down to consider the problem.

"Water on this side of the mountains doesn't run off on
the surface, so it must come through under the ground in
springs, like this one."

Seeing that they were confused by his deduction, Tom
went on. "Look at the dry slopes above us. There's no run-
ning water on the surface as there is on the north slopes."

"Well, that's true," agreed the Dragon.

"Ah! Then, when the snowcap melts in spring, some
of the water must flow down to the desert floor, under-
ground!" cried Clem.

"That's what I believe," Tom said. "There must be a lot
of subterranean channels under these mountains to account
for the springs in tliese canyons. The meltwater must carve
them, always seeking the lowest level and flowing out at
the foot of the mountains here."

"If I understand you," said Furbetrance, beginning to get
excited about water flow, "if we could follow this stream
back under that rock, we might find caverns that lead to
Retruance?"

"Perhaps," said Tom.

"But how do we get into the caverns?" asked Manda,

156

DRAGON COMPANION         157

Don Callander

pointing to the inch-wide crack from which the water
flowed.

"If we could find out how Retruance got inside, we
could follow him," Clem proposed, spreading his hands
wide. "Simple as that!"

"Maybe not so simple," said Manda gloomily. "We may
need a good magician. The nearest wizard is days away."

"Magic? Well, perhaps, but don't give up yet, beautiful
princess!" cried Tom. "If a beast the size of Retruance could
get inside, surely we can get inside, too."

"But just how . . . ?" began Furbetrance.

"We might try asking Retruance," suggested Tom.

IT was full dark before the missing Dragon's answer was
completely delivered, put together from distantly heard bits
and snatches, much-shouted repetition, and careful listen-
ing.

With the puzzle all pieced together, Retruance had said,
"I went to the top of the highest peak in the Snow Moun-
tains as a lookout to see if the kidnappers left any sign of
whether they had passed north or south of the mountains.

"I'd just caught sight of them from a pinnacle having
the best view of Broken Land, when the ice crust under
me collapsed and I slid down a steep incline into a gaping
hole in the mountaintop!

"The hole was so narrow, I couldn't spread my wings
wide enough to fly before I was deep inside the mountain.
Plopped among a stand of tall stone columns in the middle
of an underground lake. Jammed tight! I can't move my
wings to break free! Trapped!"

"Use your shrinking spell, as you did to sneak into
Overhall," suggested Tom, speaking through the deep-
voiced Furbetrance, whose voice carried best through the
rock.

"Can't," shouted the trapped beast. "Spell calls for a paw
gesture—and I can't move a claw!"

"Ask him if the water in the lake is flowing," Tom told
Furbetrance.

"Let me check," they heard the trapped Dragon reply,
and it was some minutes before he called his answer.

"Yes, it spills from its basin, southward, I think, down a
wide fall or rapid, and disappears under a low archway."

"It must be terribly dark where he is," Mornie said with
a shudder. "How can he see?"

"Dragons have built-in torches," Furbetrance reminded
her.

"Oh, of course!" cried the princess's maid, hitting her
forehead with her palm in chagrin.

Tom paced up and down while the others waited patiently
for some practical plan to take shape in his human mind.

At last Tom said, "Flying to the top of the peak to find
Retruance's cave-in won't help. More rock might slip and
we'd just bury the poor Dragon! We've got to get at him
from below. If we can drill or blast into the mountainside,
we might find the stream's course and follow it up to the
under-mountain lake. There must be a clear, open connec-
tion, or we'd not hear Retruance as well as we do."

"I can do some pretty powerful blasting," said Furbe-
trance. "Noisy, at any rate. Stand back, please!"

"Wait! Wait!" cried the Librarian. "First tell Retruance
what we're going to do. He should be ready to shout or
bum a flare or something, to guide us once we're inside."

"Excellent thinking!" exclaimed Furbetrance. He shouted
to attract his brother's attention.

"We'll blast our way in," he called. "Keep an ear open for
us when we get close to you, brother! We may need you to
blow some flame to light our way to you."
"Be careful!" came Retruance's faint reply.
Everyone except Furbetrance retreated beyond the first
curve in the canyon. They sat down on the creek bank, ate
a late supper, and watched and listened.

Furbetrance huffed and puffed a dozen deep breaths until
his internal furnace was roaring and white hot. He gave
off a brilliant scarlet-white glow that lit the canyon end,
reflecting from the walls and overhanging cliffs.

The waiting party heard a tremendous clap of thun-
der. The reflected glare from around the comer was bright
enough to read by, if they'd wished to read.

Darkness fell as suddenly. They blinked into it, seeing
ghostly afterimages of each other before their eyes.

Again and a third time the Dragon blasted away at the
narrow cleft in the rock, sending monstrous chunks of stone
tumbling and flying like chaff from a threshing machine. A
vast column of white steam shot up into the night sky. The

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rumble continued for several minutes after the actual blast-
ing ceased, with cooling rock snapping and cracking like
rifle shots. The stream beside them bubbled and steamed.

"Any luck?" called Tom to the Dragon.

"Getting there," Furbetrance responded. "One or two
more puffs should do it!"

Twice more the Dragon shook the very fabric of the
mountain with his blasts.

"They must hear that as far away as Overhall," exclaimed
Clem. "It'll scare the birds at roost in Broken Land, I'm

positive!"

"Better wait for a while, now," Furbetrance cautioned,
coming around the curve with a weary tread, his spear-
pointed tail dragging in the coarse gravel.

"It's delightfully warm," cried Manda, dipping her hand
into the water. "I'll have a bath while it lasts. Can you find
our soap, Momie?"

"Of course, m'lady!" said the maid. She rummaged in
her pack for soap and emollients suitable for a princess,
even in the wilderness.

The ladies retreated further downstream, lighting their
way with a firebrand.

The younger Dragon gave one last puff of smoke and
fell over on his back, feet in the air, utterly exhausted.

"Sleep for an hour or two, friends," he muttered. "By
then the rock will have cooled. . . ."

Tom and Clem sat on the gravel bank until the ladies
relumed, freshly bathed and looking rather pink and damp
in a most attractive way.

"Let the Dragon sleep," decided Tom. "A few more hours
won't hurt us or Retruance. The business of climbing about
inside a mountain will be pretty strenuous. Maybe we'd all
better get some sleep while we can."

They agreed and settled down in their blankets beside the
creek, where the water ran almost boiling hot for several
more hours.

THE slice of sky over the canyon was fading from indigo
to pale blue when Tom awoke. Clem was up before him,
stirring up the campfire for breakfast tea. Furbetrance still
snored mightily—shaking the rocks slightly with each exha-
lation—a short way off. Manda, wrapped in her blanket, had

DRAGON COMPANION         159

rolled close to him during the night as the creek cooled and
the air became chilly once more.

"Wake up, lazy Dragon!" the Librarian called. "Enough
of this sleeping when there are daring deeds to do!"

"Huff! Mumble? Gruff!" said Furbetrance without open-
ing his huge eyes. "Wassit? Whoesser?"

Manda woke with a smile and a laugh, rousing Momie
with a playful pebble. She exchanged a good-moming hug
with the Librarian and began to help prepare their meal.

"Need a good fast-breaker," said the trapper, skillfully
propping his heavy iron skillet over the hot coals. The
rousing fragrance of smoked bacon wafted to the Dragon's
nose and he was at once fully awake. After a pound and
a half of bacon from Overhall's larder and fifteen large
flapjacks from Clem's secret recipe, he declared himself
fully recovered from his blasting.

When they walked upstream to examine the Dragon's
handiwork, they were surprised and impressed. Not only
had Furbetrance torn a long, deep, high-arching tunnel
into the mountainside, but he'd rounded off all its edges,
channeling the stream into a shallow, polished oval pool
of bedrock, where once again it ran ice cold, cooling the
air and making it fragrant.

"You share some of your great-grandfather's talent at
building," Manda complimented Furbetrance, to his delight.
Everyone paused at the sparkling pool for a long drink
before they faced the entry into the mountain.

"I'll come last," decided Furbetrance, "and provide light
for our going. The path turns rough all too soon, I'm afraid.
It seems to be large enough to walk through once 1 shrink
myself to your size."

They went two by two, Manda and Tom, then Clem and
Momie, hand in hand. At first, Furbetrance's tunnel was
easy going, level and smooth as a pavement. Their steps
echoed and reechoed off the polished rock, so loudly that
it wasn't until they reached its end and debouched into a
rougher, natural cavern that they could stop and call out to
Retruance that they were on their way.

"You've a long way to come, yet," shouted the impris-
oned Dragon. His voice was clearer and louder now that
they were inside the mountain and away from the sounds
of moving water and wind. "I'm just fine, if a bit confined,

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you know. I can hear you quite easily."

An hour passed and a second. Without the younger Dra-
gon's flare behind them they would long since have become
completely lost, as the cavern branched and rejoined, the
stream parting and coming together again, sometimes like
braids, in several separate courses.

Toward midmoming they reached the bottom of a water
stair and the way became a difficult, cold, and wet climb,
moving from rock to rock by leaps and bounds, sometimes
having to wade knee deep through swiftly running water.

"Thank goodness for a stout pair of boots!" panted Manda
on reaching the top of the rapids. She reached back to pull
Momie up the last drop. They stood gasping for breath,

waiting for the Dragon.

"It gets worse," said Clem, returning from a forward
reconnaissance. "The ceiling gets lower. I had hoped it
would get higher so we could fly."

"At least there don't seem to be any great waterfalls
between us and Retruance or we'd hear them," puffed Tom.
"Well, we'll have to find the way, one way or another."

They all gazed about in wonder as they continued. Here
the cavern was low ceilinged and the stream wandered
between what appeared to be an endless forest of stone
trees, rooted in the rock underfoot and stretching up into
the darkness above. When Manda commented on them,
wondering how they grew, Tom passed the time explaining
stalactites, stalagmites, and flowstone.

NOONTIME passed. They paused on a ledge beside the stream,
now rushing along a polished, jade green channel as straight
as an arrow. It made hardly any sound at all, but from in front
of them they could hear the muted sound of other rapids.

"How do you explain that this morning we heard
Retruance speak so clearly, but now his voice is all but
drowned by the water sound?" Momie asked Tom.

"I don't explain it," said Tom. "I wonder if we've taken
a wrong turn, however."

The thought bothered him until he realized there were
places in the tunnel where it was so quiet you could hear
yourself breathe and the sound of their clothing stretching
and bending. Yet, round a comer and all of a sudden the
roar of water might be almost deafening.

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161

In quiet spots, they paused to chat encouragingly with
Retruance, who was invariably cheerful and encouraging.

"I've long since decided the trap I fell into was natural,
not the result of any sort of magic," he commented. "Unfor-
tunate, but not a fatal mistake, I say."

"I wouldn't know how to tell," said Tom, shaking his
head, although the Dragon couldn't possibly see the ges-
ture. "Think about how we can help you get free once we
find you."

"I'm pretty well tied up," said his mount. "However, with
your help and that of brother Furbetrance, I'll easily break
free once you get here."

Shortly after they resumed their trek, now over rough,
shattered stones beside the river course, they turned one of
those unexpected comers to find themselves on the shore
of a vast, underground lake, stretching as far as the eye
could see to the left, right, and ahead, until it faded into
the darkness. They couldn't see the far shore.

"Swim it?" considered Furbetrance. "That's good! Dra-
gons are as at home in the water as in the air!"

He folded his wings tightly along his flanks, worked the
spell that restored his size, and invited his friends to clamber
onto his saddle. Once they were comfortable, he waded out
into the inky waters. After a half dozen steps, he began to
swim as the bottom dropped off steeply.

"What was that?" wondered Manda very softly. Some-
thing about the place made them fall unconsciously into
whispers.

"What did you see?" asked Tom, who was busy tightening
the harness that held their saddle arrangement to the Dra-
gon's broad forehead.

"A ripple, circling about us!" Momie squealed.

"That's what I saw," cried Manda, throwing her arms
about the Librarian. "There's something alive out there."

"Advantage of having a Dragon as a carrier," said Fur-
betrance, calmly. "It's just a cave fish, albeit a big one. He's
curious, only. And fearful, too."

The shape in the water circled for some minutes. The
Dragon plowed on, now walking on the smooth, gravelly
lake bottom, now swimming when the water got deeper
again.

A smaller, more rapid chevron of ripples crossed in front

162

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DRAGON COMPANION

163

of them. Furbetrance paused, one foreleg lifted.

"Hello!" he called cheerily. "We're friends, just passing
through, you know."

A soft answer reached them.

"Who are ye? Who are ye, great behemoth of the deep?
Have you come to destroy our home as you did the outlet?
How hot your body is! We fear it, fear it, fear . .."

"No need to fear, friend fish," said the Dragon. "We
won't harm you or your lake, believe me."

The ripples stopped abruptly and a dead-white fish head,
round of snout, with long, flexible whiskers all about its
lips, broke the glassy surface of the lake.

"It has no eyes!" exclaimed Manda, clutching Tom's

arm.

"I've heard of cave fish without eyes and without color,"
Tom said, to comfort her fear. It was not easy, for the sight
of the eyeless white fish head was unnerving.

"You must be related to the beast who fell into the Hall
of High Columns," observed the fish, politely. "I feel your
size and heat and it's similar to that beast's feel."

"He's my brother, Retruance," explained Furbetrance,
setting his foreleg down carefully, so as not to make waves.
"We intend to rescue him."

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed the blind fish, giving his
head a sharp shake. "He's been disturbing our poor sprats
for some time with his singing."

"He fell into the mountain by accident," Tom said, lean-
ing forward to see the fish better. "He can't get free of the
columns without help."

"Yes, we've seen that," answered the fish. "Unfortunate-
ly, we were not able to offer our assistance to him. He's
like a fish in a net, tangled in those columns as he is."

"Have you bespoken him, then?" asked Tom.

"No. No purpose. We've felt sorry for him but knew we
could do nothing for him, so we left him alone to expire

in peace."

"Is he far from us now?" asked Furbetrance.
"Far? I would say not. Only an hour's swim, against the

current," replied the fish. "How long it would take you to

get there, I couldn't say."

"But at least tell us what lies between, please," requested

Manda. "Beyond this lake?"

The fish considered his answer. Several other blind fish
gathered some distance away, slowly waving their white
whiskers, sensing the Dragon from a safe remove.

"We've decided the best thing for us to do, to hasten your
passage and the end of your turbulence," said the fish at last,
"is to guide you to your brother. The way is an easy swim
but rather complicated to tell in words."

"We'd be much obliged if you could do so," said Manda.
"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves, friend fish."

"It would be nice to know your names," agreed the
other. "We don't meet many outsiders, of course. I am
Albiola Bespeaker. My people selected me to speak for
them on such occasions as this—although, thankfully, such
occasions are rare."

Furbetrance said, "My own name is Furbetrance Con-
stable. On my head is Princess Royal Alix Amanda of
Carolna, and Thomas the Librarian of Overhall. Behind
them are Momie of Morningside, the princess's maid, and
a fur trapper of Broken Land, Clematis."

"My honor!" cried the fish. "A princess royal! I learned
about kings and queens and princesses in our school!"

After that it would not do but the entire shoal of blind
fish would accompany the travelers on their way across the
lake and up the river beyond.

"I thought at first, when you began to call him from out-
side, that the other Dragon had several voices," explained
Albiola, swimming alongside, close enough to talk with the
riders. "Comes from not seeing, you understand."

"You can't see, even under the water?" Manda asked,
very curious about these cave-bound fish.

"In a way. It's more a matter of listening, although we're
aware of light and dark. We remember, way back, when our
people could see as well as anyone. But seeing is a lost art
here under the mountain."

"A mighty long time ago, I guess," said Tom, and the
fish agreed. "You live a most quiet and peaceful life, then.
I don't imagine there're too many predators to bother you,
Albiola?"

"None whatsoever, except for an occasional bear or wild-
cat, wandered into the caverns by mistake and gotten lost.
They're always hungry but they're also so noisy they're
easy to avoid."

164

Don Callander                                        DRAGON COMPANION

165

"And ultimately they will starve to death, I reckon,"
observed Clem. "That's the way of the wild."

"Actually, we often manage to show them a way out,
when they get hungry enough to be reasonable," said the
fish. "It's much the same as helping you find your Dragon.
It benefits us all to cooperate, don't you agree?"

They entered a broad, slowly flowing stream on the far
side of the lake. It flowed through an underground canyon
of its own. The walls were lapped by the water on each side,
and the ceiling was far, far above, lost from sight. Here the
Dragon could have flown, but it seemed easier to wade up
the sluggish current, following the ripples of their sightless

guides.

The voice of Retruance sounded clearer and closer than
ever. Tom asked him to release a burst of flaming gas as a
beacon but after three tries, he told the Dragon it was no
use. They could see nothing, not even a reflected glow.

"But I feel you are very close," said Retruance, cheer-
fully. "Keep up the good walk, old friends!"

"We come to a shallow cataract ahead," Albiola soon
told them. "Around a sweeping curve. We won't go much
farther with you but it's a short way beyond the cataract to
the Pool of Columns where your friend is captive."

The cataract rose like a shallow stair before them, curving,
as the fish had said, gently to the right and out of sight.

"We could swim up the cascade, of course, with much
danger and exertion, but once you reach the top, you'll
sense the pool and the Dragon," Albiola said, shortly. "If
you wish, we can continue."

"Not necessary, I believe," said Furbetrance. "We'll find

the way."

"Is there anything we can do for you and your people in
return?" the princess asked, politely.

"I can't think of a thing—except leave as quickly as you
can. Your vibrations disturb our sprats, as I said, and they
shoot off in all directions. It doesn't hurt them so much.
Actually, they enjoy it. It provides them an excuse to skip

school."

"Youngsters are the same everywhere," commented Tom
with a chuckle. "We're very sorry to have caused any trou-
ble for you, Albiola."

"Not really trouble," said the blind fish, waving a fin in

farewell. "Speak well of us when you get aboveground. And
leave us to our dark peace thereafter, we pray."

The ripples and flashes of white scales disappeared. Car-
rying the young people, Furbetrance quickly climbed the
watery stairs and rounded the comer, lighting the way with
a thin stream of fire as they went.

"Ho! I can see your light!" called Retruance suddenly.
"You're only a mile or so away now."

He ended his sentence with a bright yellow jet and they
could see him at last, hanging in midair.

The stalagmites that filled the center of the pool were
smooth and straight, looking like huge marble spears. With
the light from the two Dragons' flares the travelers could
see, across the wide, shallow pool, columns of swirled,
pastel-colored stone randomly scattered about, rising forty

or fifty feet into the air, tapering to rounded points high
above.

In the middle of the pool the spears were crowded quite
close together, and where they were thickest, jammed down
among a dozen of the closest-set, hung Retruance Consta-
ble, his great leathery wings held fast, a bit like a fly
impaled in the jaws of a Venus flytrap, Tom thought.
"Poor Retruance!" cried Manda. "Are you hurt?"
"Uncomfortable, but unhurt. Princess. Nothing broken,
bent, or breached, thank goodness! Took some hard blows
in the ribs when I came down, but that will pass once I can

move about a bit. Hello, everybody! Welcome to my bed
of nails!"

Furbetrance maneuvered himself under the trapped Dra-
gon and stood in the shallow water staring up at Retruance,
puzzling out their next step.

"We at least have the advantage of light," said Momie.
"I'd hate to be working in the total darkness."

They all agreed. The problem was how to lift the trapped
Dragon from the spires.

"Is the hole in the roof open still?" asked Tom.
"Yes," answered Retruance, curving his long neck
upward. "I would say so. Yes, I can see it as a spot
of light when I look up. If I could just flap my wings a
few times . . ."

"While you're wishing, wish for magic to help us," sighed
Manda.

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166

"There are other ways," Tom claimed. He leaned forward
to speak to Furbetrance, "Can you take off in this space?"

"No reason why not," replied the Dragon. He had found
a part of the pool only inches deep.

"Fly above Retruance and hoist him off the spears, enough
to free his wings. Then we'll either go straight up though
the hole in the roof, if it's big enough, or retrace our steps

to the desert."

"I can do it, but you all had better wait for us here,"

Furbetrance decided, after giving it some thought. "My
brother is half-again as heavy as I. It'll take all my strength

to lift him."

"Put us ashore over there, where it is fairly dry, then,"

said Manda. "We can wait for you there and be out of the

way, too."

The Dragon lowered his great head to the shelving beach

to one side of the pool. They easily hopped ashore.

"Now for it!" cried Furbetrance, taking a deep breath.

"Be back in a few minutes!"

They could follow the rescue operation even at that dis-
tance by the flaming breaths of both Dragons. Furbetrance
shot up between columns where they were farthest apart,
near the cataract, and climbed swiftly over Retruance's

head.

"Be easier with a cable of some sort, but we'll have to
make do without," they heard Furbetrance call to his big
brother. "It seems to me the best way is to haul you up by

the tail."

"Ouch!" cried his brother. "Be careful! My tail is very

tender."

"It might hurt but it won't do any harm," declared

Furbetrance. "Here we go now!"

They watched the younger Dragon hover over the other,
reaching down with his powerful hind feet, beating his
wings strongly but steadily over them both. The downdraft
stirred ripples on the pool's mirror surface.

"Up! Up!" urged Retruance. "A bit to the left. My portside
wing is twisted around that pillar there, as you can see. Ouch!

There! It's free! Ouch!!"

"Up you come, big brother," gasped Furbetrance. "Up!

Up!"

Suddenly the trapped Dragon was free. There was an

DRAGON COMPANION

167

exciting moment when he spread his wings and took the
first, thunderous flap.

Furbetrance gave a shout of triumph and warning. They
collided in midair, almost losing airspeed, and began to
tumble before each Dragon swung away from the other,
beating thunderously to regain control.

With an exhilarated rush of wings the two beasts swooped
down to the narrow beach, loaded the four young people on
their heads, and flew to the ceiling far above.

The opening seemed much too tiny for the flying Dra-
gons, but they popped through with room to spare, into
the bright, cold afternoon sun. They soared triumphantly
up, high into the sky, before gliding slowly in lowering
circles toward the rolling foothills to the north of Snow
Mountains.

THE nearest place to be sure of food and shelter for the com-
ing night was Clem's cabin in Broken Land. They arrived
just before an approaching rainstorm and by the time it
began to pour, all were well on their way to being warmed,
fed, bathed, and comforted in Clem's homey house.

Furbetrance and Retruance, too large to put even just
their heads through the cabin door, remained outside, enjoy-
ing the show of lightning, thunder, and pelting summer
rain. Retruance demanded a telling of their adventures,
both seeking Rosemary and looking for himself, and his
brother gladly complied.

The others, wrapped in warm blankets and furs, sat in
front of the cabin's fire drying their clothing, still wet from
wading in the underground river.

"What next?" asked Clem, handing around a pitcher of
hot mulled cider before he settled down on the warm hearth
beside Momie.

"Return to Overhall in the morning," Manda told him.
"Murdan and I will go to Lexor for Fall Session. Murdan
intends to bring charges against the nasty little Freddie.
He'll need all of us for witnesses."

"That one deserves to be hung up somewhere to dry
out," barked Clem. He was particularly fond of Rosemary
of Ffallmar and her three children. "I'm sure the Historian
has something like that in mind."

"Murdan wants to discredit my uncle Peter, at least for

168 Don Callander

long enough to get my stepmother through her pregnancy
and birthing. Goodness! I do pray it is a boy-child."

"In one way I agree," said Tom, thoughtfully. "But it
seems a terrible burden to place on an infant, being a king
whether he likes it or not!"

"What other way can you get a legitimate ruler?" won-
dered Momie. She yawned hugely. "Not that my opinion
matters. I don't decide such things."

"But perhaps it should be decent, honest people like you
who decide," said Manda, sitting up to gaze thoughtfully
into the fire.

Tom put his hand in the small of her back to help support
her position.

"There are other ways to find a good ruler," he said soft-
ly. "I'll have to tell you about them one day. Or perhaps I
shouldn't interfere."

"You have my respect, and that of Murdan," said the
princess. "Your words will be heard, I believe."

They sat on the warm hearth together, speaking less and
less as sleep overtook them.

"Furbetrance will go to his family. His Hetabelle and
their kits live on the Obsidia Cliffs. Retruance will carry
us to Overhall. What will you do, Clem? It's full summer
now," Tom asked.

"Not too late to ready myself for the next trapping season,
if I work fast," said the woodsman. He was silent for a long
while before he went on.

"But, if you need me, you and Manda... I could go
east with you. See the great nobles at Lexor, for once. I'll
miss my empty and beautiful wilderness, of course, but. ..
a man needs to expand his vision, I believe. See new places
and people now and again. It makes such good telling over
a pint of autumn ale in some cozy inn."

"And there's Momie," suggested Manda with a mischie-
vous glint in her eye, "who's already sound asleep here on
your floor before your fire. Better gather her up. Clematis,
old wallflower, and we'll put her to bed beside me in our
room."

"Aye, the hearth'11 grow cold before morning," agreed
the ex-trapper. He gently scooped the maid into his strong
arms, as easily as though she were a bouquet of flowers. She
stirred slightly, murmured his name, but didn't awaken.

DRAGON COMPANION         169

Manda knelt before Tom, put her hands on his shoulders,
staring for a moment into his brown eyes.

"There's the matter of you and me, too," she whispered.
"What is to happen between, to, and for us, beloved?"

"Good and bad, of course, for that's what life is made
of," replied Tom, feeling warm, sleepy, and philosophical
all at the same time. He kissed his princess and she returned
the kiss at once. For a while there was no sound in the cabin
except the drumming of rain on the cedar-shakes roof and
the hiss of raindrops falling into the fire.

"Carry me, also," said Manda at last. "A maid should not
have better treatment than her princess, do you think?"

^16^

Discussion, Decision, and Departure

THEY bade a loving and rather tearful farewell to Furbe-
trance, who said he was needed at home.

"I've completed my mission," he said. "Here is brother
Retruance, safe and sound. .."

"My tail will long be painful from your hauling," moaned
the older Dragon with a comical grimace.

"... and I promised fair Hetabelle I'd be home before
Flight Time."

"Flight Time?" wondered Tom.

"It's the traditional time for teaching Dragon hatchlings
to fly," explained Retruance. "Early summer is the best
Flight Time. It's something every kitten remembers fondly,
ever long after. A most happy time for a Dragon family."

"Kitten?" asked Manda with a laugh.

"Well, you wouldn't expect us to call them 'calves' or
'puppies,' would you?" protested the proud father.

"No, no! Kitten is just perfect," Manda replied, strug-
gling to contain her bubbling laughter. "Why not, say,
Dragonette, though?"

"A Dragonette is a half-grown Dragon. Sort of equivalent

170

Don Callander

to a teenager," Retruance told her.

"Give our love to the beautiful Hetabelle, brother! Per-
suade her to visit Overhall in the fall, when the kits can

make the trip."

"My good mate is rather shy but I think I can convince
her she should visit the East, if only for the children's sake.
Once she arrives, she'll love it, I know."

He lifted his black, leathery wings, called good-bye once
more, and hurled himself into the clear sky over Bro-
ken Land, angling into the updrafts breasting the Snow

Mountains.

The rest of the party, perched on Retruance, left shortly

thereafter, heading east.

"We could make it all the way to Overhall easily," the
older Dragon told them, "but we should stop and tell the
good people at the sheep station that I am found again."

"They were most helpful," agreed the princess. "I wonder
if we should also stop by Old Place and reassure Lady
Murtal. She has few visitors, I know, being far from other

castles or towns."

"Easy enough to do. It's almost on our way," Retruance
said, catching himself about to nod his head. "We'll stop
there for lunch and go south to Ramhold for the night."

They soared. The Dragon's passengers enjoyed the wide
view while Clem pointed out landmarks, recalling stories
of ancient and not-so-ancient exploits that had taken place

here or there.

Old Place appeared below in less than two hours and their

welcome was warm and cordial.

"My Lady Princess!" cried Murtal when she rushed to
meet them at her gate. "I'm so glad to see you safe and
sound! My son has written me everything that happened
and how you rescued my granddaughter and her children
from that rogue, your uncle Peter's henchman."

Lady Murtal was a plump, jolly grandmother who
embraced the entire world, willingly and happily, seldom
speaking anything but good of anyone—except Peter of

Gantrell, it seemed.

She swept them immediately to her private sitting room
and called for cool drinks and hot tea, with lunch to follow
in an hour. Retruance excused himself to go off and speak
to the sergeant of Murtal's small guard.

DRAGON COMPANION         171

Lady Rosemary's escort, the sergeant told him, had been
provided by a local piecework mercenary named Trout.
He'd surrendered without a struggle to Brevory's armed
band in Summer Pass—and now had run from Murdan's
certain wrath. Not a man of the hired band had been seen
in weeks.

"If I may ask, ma'am," Tom said after he'd gotten to
feel quite at home with the Historian's mother, "why do
you choose to live so far from your son and the center of
Carolna?"

"It's a long, long and sometimes sad story. Master Librar-
ian. Someday when it's snowing, blowing, cold, and gray
outside, I'll tell it in absolute detail. Enough for now to
say—Old Place was the scene of my happiest and most
loving years. Here my sons were bom. And here lived, 'til
his death, my good husband and beloved friend. Here I
intend to stay until I, too, die."

"I hope it will be many years before that happens,"
said Tom, sincerely, for he had at once come to love the
sprightly elderly woman with her very direct manner and
violet eyes.

"As do I, Grand-Aunt Murtal!" cried Manda.

"That's especially nice, coming from you young people.
May I ask a question, in my turn?"

"Of course! Anything at all!" promised both.

"Am I just a lonely old woman with too-vivid imagin-
ings? Or do I sense between you two ... ?"

"You are perfectly correct," said Manda, blushing crim-
son. "We love each other. Grandmother!"

"We do; that's as true as sunrise," Tom admitted, unable
to keep himself from coloring, also.

"My! My! Don't be embarrassed by your love, children!
What a splendid thing to share. I remember.. . but, as I
said, that's a story for a long, wintery evening. I'm so
very pleased for you both! Tell me, does my son know
of this?"

"I think so," Tom told her. "We've made no effort to
hide it. Should we have?"

"Of course not!" snorted Murtal. "Publish good news at
the top of your voices, say I!"

"We foresee, however, some serious problems arising,"
Manda said, hesitantly.

172               Don Callander

Murtal nodded soberly and then spoiled the effect by
chuckling—in a younger lady it would have been called a

giggle.

"There are always problems, child! Don't concern your-
self about them, at least not yet."

"But if Queen Beatrix—"
"I'm familiar with the situation as regards a royal heir,"

interrupted the old woman. "I am not that isolated here!"
"Of course you aren't," murmured Manda. "But I can't
help worrying about it. Frankly, I'm torn between my love
for Tom and my feelings toward my father and our king-
dom. If I am to be queen, how does Tom fit into my

life?"

"Child, children, listen to me! Carolna has been around

for more than seven centuries, through all sorts of kings
and queens, interregnums and dual monarchies, anarchies
and rule by merchants' committee, and even no rule at all.
There're a lot of conflicting procedures and customs of the
past, but every monarch, believe me, makes his own rules,

when it comes down to that."

She reached out to ring for her servant.

"Whether you become queen or not remains to be seen,"
she continued. "Horatio, serve lunch in the garden, please.
Find that big Dragon and ask him to join us there. I always
liked Retruance," she confided to Tom. "Some Dragons
I've met have been, well, rather too uppity. I gather it
comes from being so large. But Constables have always

been good friends."

She led them into her garden, a place of fragrant greenery

and early summer blooms, lilacs in the cool shade of a
fringe of poplars, and late iris and early daylilies, beds
of bright cutting flowers, delphinium and gladiolus, just
beginning to bloom, resplendent in the full sun.

The manservant Horatio, almost as ancient and fully as
sprightly as his mistress, served them a delicate salad and
a compote of fruit preserved from last fall's orchards, and
a chocolate cake with swirled sugar-butter frosting.

"A great deal will depend on your power base," said
Murtal, suddenly resuming her earlier discussion over des-
sert. "You'll have Lord Gantrell and his sycophants arrayed
against you . .. actually a small number of men, taken all
in all, but overproud and arrogant in their wealth. A great

DRAGON COMPANION         173

many others will sit on the wall, you realize."

"You mean, watching which way to jump?" asked Tom,
accepting his second helping of cake, the first he had
encountered in this world.

"Exactly! They'll swing their support to whichever side
appears to be winning. Which is why, you see, my son is
determined to bring Rosemary's foul little kidnapper to trial
before the king. If his guilt is proved, the matter will cast
doubt over Gantrell's ability and suitability. The undecided
faction will go over to the king's side, especially if the
matter of the royal succession is clear."

"I understand the king already favors Murdan and
Manda," said Tom.

"True, but a king has to consider other things than friend-
ship and kinship—if he is a good king. Eduard Ten is
above all a responsible ruler. Would it be better for Carolna
as a whole to be ruled by a mere slip of a giddy girl?
A girl, in this case, very young and—so far—unmarried,
inexperienced, kept virtually hidden away by her uncles
since the sad passing of her mother? Would Their Lord-
ships obey her willingly, support her policies if she has
the scholarly Historian as chief adviser? That's why Peter
wants to hold Manda close and away from Murdan. That
way he controls what is known, believed, and expected of
her by the wealthy and powerful on whom the ruler must
depend."

"Plus," added Manda, "if Uncle Peter controls me, he'll
gain the support of all those who don't really know—
or care, it seems—what's going on, just because I'm my
father's daughter, not a son."

"A lot of people think Gantrell is preferable to Murdan
as regent for Manda," said Murdan's mother, sadly. "They
don't know my son as we do. Gantrell is wealthy, holds
many Achievements, and controls others because he's
bought their owner's support ... or gained it by promises
or by threats."

"I guess it's easier to see the situation clearly if one is
an outsider," said Tom with a sigh. "I'd oppose any ruler
who uses threats and terror, even murder, to gain power.
I've never met the man, but I have a hearty dislike for this
Uncle Peter already."

"Suppose you had arrived suddenly in this world of ours,

174

Don Callander

as my son told me, and were hired by Peter of Gantrell
instead of Murdan the Historian. Peter can be a delightful,
charming man when he wants to be. Many, who never see
his darker side, think he's the greatest man in the kingdom,

not even excepting Eduard Ten!"

"At the very least it would have taken you some time to
form an honest opinion of my Uncle Peter," agreed Manda.
"Even if you, in the end, decided he was not to your liking,
he would have tried to poison your mind against the king,

against Murdan, and against me!"

"I suppose so, although... I'd like to believe I'm po-
litically mature enough to see behind the posturings and the
promises. In my country—in the land of my birth, I mean—
politics are no less convoluted. The form of our govern-
ment is such that everyone must try to read a politician's
innermost character—or get a destroyer instead of a leader.
That's why, long ago, we chose a government modeled of

laws, not just of men."

"You've put your finger squarely on our problem there,"

exclaimed Lady Murtal, her forefinger thrust at Tom in
emphasis. "Peter of Gantrell, for all his wit and charm, is
ultimately a destroyer, a driver. Given unrestrained power,
would he have the patience to lead? Or would he rather
drive us to wherever he wishes us to go?"

"And Murdan hopes to convince enough people of the
fact that they must not stand idly by and allow Gantrell to
force himself onto the throne?" asked Tom.

"That's what the lady is saying," put in Retruance, who

until then had kept his silence.

"What effect on all this will I have, when it becomes

known that Manda and I... well, are, well... ?"

"It depends," Retruance considered. "Many will hesitate
to support a queen just because she is a woman alone.
You would gain support for Manda in that quarter, I think.
Others, remembering Alix Amanda, Queen Alone, might
object if the queen had a commoner for consort and—let's
be frank about this. Companion—an Outsider! The fact that
you are a human will enter into it, too. Many will fear your
influence on the queen for that reason alone. Others will
believe, as I do, that a human is a handy sort of person
to have at one's side. You've already proved your worth

in that regard."

DRAGON COMPANION         175

Tom digested more than just lunch as they departed from
Old Place with Lady Murtal's farewells and blessings.

"If I would be a hindrance .. .," he began.

"No, it won't make any difference. If, and I say if, you
were my husband and if, again if, I were offered the Trusslo
throne, I would not be queen of a people who would not
respect my choice of consort. I won't be sold to anyone
in exchange for political position or gain! I decided that
years ago, my dearest. Your coming merely confirmed my
determination."

"You would give up the Crown if it stood between us?"
marveled Tom. He remembered the sad case of a king
of England, not so long before, who had done the same
brave—some said foolish—sort of thing. He spent the time
it took Retruance to fly from Old Place to Ramhold telling
her that story.

"This Edward," decided Manda, "from what you say,
preferred not to rule, despite all the laws and traditions
pressuring him?"

"That's about it," said Tom.

"I can understand that," said Manda emphatically. "I tell
you truly, my own love, that I would ... I will, if necessary,
do the same."

"But if it means abdicating the throne to your Uncle
Peter?" asked Retruance, who, with Momie and Clem, had
listened in interested silence to the discussion.

"Well, I'd have to find a way to prevent that from hap-
pening," said Manda.

"We will have to find that way," Tom amended. "You
and I and the Historian, and Retruance, too. Lots of people
will be working for and with you, Alix Amanda."

"I'm not the least bit concerned," she replied. "Except
as it affects you and me. There are too many other people
who would make good Kings of Carolna, including you, or
Murdan, or even Clem here. I've decided," she said with
finality, "that I won't be forced into queensness under any
circumstances."

"Queenship, rather," prompted Tom.

"Well, right! Queenship, then. Is my decision terrible?"

"Lady Murtal evidently doesn't think so," the Dragon
answered her question first, "nor do any of us. Princess.
There's Ramhold!"

176

Don Callander

"I really am looking forward to a Ramhold supper!" said
Tom, and behind him Clem laughed his agreement.

THEY walked hand in hand, that evening, over the golden-
green grassland surrounding the sheep station, mostly with-
out speaking, very content just to be together, to be in
love. A half moon rose in the east, a silver bowl slightly

tipped.

"It means it will rain," said Manda, pointing at the moon.
"It's a bowl pouring its contents over the land. A good

sign!"

"Talber says winter and spring weather have been good
for farmers. There are going to be what Iowa farmers call
bumper crops. The ewes bore healthy lambs at the right time
and their milk was rich, so the lambs grew strong in a very

few days," he said.

"You're starting to talk like a farmer yourself," Manda

teased him.

"Well, I was bom and raised in a small farming town.

My sympathy is with farmers, always."

An amazing thing happened, just then. A fiery meteor
streaked through the evening sky, and with a distant roar
and hiss, it crossed the face of the moon and disappeared
in the haze on the western horizon. Its blazing flight lasted

ten heartbeats or longer.

"Wow!" cried Tom in wonder, hugging his princess clos-
er. "I haven't seen anything like that in a long time and

never so big!"

"A shooting star? We see quite a few of them in spring-
time here. Not many that bright, however. They say they're
a good omen for lovers."

"I accept that!" Tom laughed aloud.

ON their return to Overhall they found the Historian highly
pleased by their adventures in the west, for he really did
like the Dragon very much, no matter how hard he tried to
hide it. But he was also rather gloomy. Tom at last found
an opportunity to ask him about it.

They were sitting on the balcony off Murdan's parlor,
letting the evening breezes cool the first really hot day of
August. Manda had gone off to see about her wardrobe,
which was scant, since she had left her Uncle Granger

DRAGON COMPANION         177

rather suddenly. She was already looking forward to the
fall journey to Lexor with anticipation.

"Manda found letters from her father waiting when we
came back," Tom noted, ending a companionable silence.

"Aye," responded the Historian. "She hasn't told you yet
what was in them?"

"No, I said you ought to see them first, under the cir-
cumstances."

"Well, he is worried . .. about a lot of things, but mostly
about his queen. She'll go into childbirth pangs any day
now. Although she is healthy and well protected by the best
medical spells money can buy, he fears that Peter Gantrell
will somehow find a way to interfere."
"What? Harm the child, you mean?"
"Or harm the queen and thus the unborn child. Beatrix is
not as well loved as Manda's mother was, being a daughter
of the far South. You may have heard."
"Does that make her disliked?"

"Unfortunately. In public she often seems cold and dis-
tant, they say. She speaks with an odd accent, they add. We
who know her know she is a good-tempered, well-spoken
lass, but still unsure of herself. Afraid, even."
"Poor lady!" Tom could not help exclaiming.
"Eduard is deeply in love with her, I must say, and she
with him, which makes me optimistic about her prospects.
But for now, too many of our good northern petty nobles
are suspicious of anything that comes from the Swamps, as
they call the south coast."

"An unfortunate burden for Eduard to bear. Is that prop-
er? I mean, my referring to him as just Eduard?"

"A king needs no other title than his good name, my boy.
When you meet him, you'll address him as 'Your Majesty'
and 'Sire' and 'Lord King,' but in person he won't object
to simply, 'Sir' ... after you get to know him."
"I want to meet him," said a thoughtful Librarian.
Murdan stood and paced back and forth, thinking, while
his Librarian sat silently watching, respecting his reverie.
At last Tom said, "Sir, what bothers you?"
"Just what we were talking about now," said Murdan,
stopping to rest his elbows on the stone baluster. "The king
and queen and this unborn child of theirs—of ours, in one
way of looking at it. I'm trying to anticipate all the wicked

178

DRAGON COMPANION         179

Don Callander

things Gantrell might do to upset the even course of events

this late summer and fall."

"Manda and I have discussed it a lot," admitted Tom.

"Will you hear my opinion?"

"I would value it!"

'Then, this: It's far better to act than to wait. If nothing
else, it keeps your opponent off balance, makes him hesitate
in some of the things he might otherwise do."

"I have people watching Gantrell very closely. Friends
are poised to counter any sudden moves he might make."

"But he knows that, I am sure."

"Oh, I am sure of it!" Murdan grunted.

"If Peter does anything, it seems to me, it will be under-
handed, secret. There are a lot of things that can be done
seriously to upset a mother-to-be. Did you see the great

shooting star two nights ago?"

"No, but I heard of it. I was already abed when it

passed."

"Manda says such things are considered omens, for good

or ill."

"Yes, most people would agree."

"What I'm getting at is the role of superstition in this
world. It's much stronger than in mine, and God knows it's
strong enough in Iowa! Black cats are still taken as bad
luck. Brides refuse to see their grooms on their wedding
day. Finding a four-leaf clover is good luck. Spilled salt
and broken mirrors are bad. Things like that."

"Those are believed strongly here, too."

"A bad omen could be cruelly upsetting, taken as ill news
by many of Eduard's people, wouldn't you say?"

"Peter is fully capable of manufacturing an evil sign or
two," agreed the Historian. "And, being from the south,
Beatrix is even more susceptible to what you call supersti-
tion. Yes, Peter might arrange it. Nobody could point any

blaming fingers at him, certainly."

"No, and there must be a hundred things he might try.
Carried out ruthlessly, it could be a severe shock or a

terrible fright to the queen."

"I can think of dozens of omens that would do the trick,"
Murdan agreed. "The king has the best magics available, as
I said. But if the ominous events were manufactured, their
magic wouldn't have any effect!"

"I've been studying this business of being human. It
seems to me that a human here is regarded much as a wizard
or a witch is regarded in my world. In Iowa it's considered
very good luck for the mother to see an elf or a fairy while
she is carrying an unborn child. Nobody admits they believe
it, but they do! Some mothers will go a long way out of
their path to make sure they meet a magi, a wraith, a fairy,
a wizard, any magical being."

"So .. . ?"

"What if Queen Beatrix were to have a real, live human
near her during the last weeks of her term? That might
counter the effect of any bogus omens, in the eyes of the
people of Carolna. 'A wave of this hand, this very hand,' "
Tom half quoted someone he had once seen in a movie,
"and the evil sign is neutralized! Or so the superstitious
might believe."

"Ah!" was all the Historian said for a long while. The two
of them stood watching the evening activity in the castle
courtyard.

A stable lad carried a saddle from the saddlery, freshly
cleaned and polished. He whistled cheerfully.

A gang of castle children, scarcely ten years old, perched
on the stone verge of Guggierun moat, throwing pebbles at
the fireflies that skimmed over the water, zig-zagging back
and forth to dodge their missiles. Children's laughter rose
to the watchers on the balcony.

"Manda . .. , " began Tom.

"... must remain here until I escort her to Lexor," the
Historian said flatly.

"Oh."

"It's extremely important she make the right sort of
entrance into the city and the royal court. She is a strang-
er there, too. Everyone will be watching with critical
eyes, forming opinions of her for the first time. She'll be
very busy for weeks, making clothes, planning parties and
celebrations. She must write to her friends and relatives,
picking her maids of honor. Jewelers will arrive to design
and make her tiara and her other regal adornments. Besides,
you realize that if she leaves Overhall now, she is herself
vulnerable to any last-minute machinations Gantrell might
devise to repossess her."

"If I must, I will go alone," said Tom.

180

DRAGON COMPANION         181

Don Catlander

"Not alone. You'll take your Dragon, of course."
"I wouldn't consider going without Retruance Constable,

no," agreed Tom.

"And I should think that young woodsman who I see

mooning about Manda's maid, these days. What's his

name?"

"Clematis? Good man to have along, I'd say."
"Take him with you. These Broken Land people are a
tough and resourceful lot, to a man."

"I am to go, then, but with what excuse?"
"Leave that to me. I'll send you with a letter to the
king, who is with the queen now until the babe is born.
I'll tell him what we've just talked about and suggest that
he introduce you to the queen as my personal emissary. It'll
be up to you to settle her mind, make her a friend."

"It's done that way?" asked the Librarian, gathering up his
cloak before leaving the Historian's balcony. He wanted to
speak to Manda before she went to bed.

"It is now," said the Historian. "When can you leave?"

"In the morning."

"Oh, I've sent that pesky Dragon of yours off on an
errand. He begged me for something to do. Getting bored,
he said. He won't be back for two or three days, I judge."

"No matter, sir. I'd like to see something of the country
from ground level for a change. Meet people. Talk to them
while they're not goggle eyed about a fifty-foot dragon.
There is so much I don't know yet about Carolna."

"Good idea, I say! I'll send the Dragon after you when

he returns, then."

Captain Graham arrived to report the setting of the

evening watch. Tom asked to be excused and went off to
climb Middletower, hoping that Manda was in her apartment
working with her needlewomen and tailors by lamplight and

not yet retired for the night.

"Let Master Tailor, here, take your measurements, Tom,"

the princess greeted him. "You'll need suitable clothes,
hose, shoes, boots, hats, capes, kerchiefs, everything to
your underclothing, for the royal court."

"I'm not sure I can afford such luxury, Manda," Tom

protested.

"If you promise not to ask who pays for it, I promise not

to tell anyone," she giggled. "Do you like this red velvet?

It gets cool at times in Lexor on fall nights. It may snow
before we come home again."

"You plan to return to Overhall after sessions?" Tom said
in surprise. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"If I can, I will," she replied. "If I have my way, Murdan
will be declared my guardian until I reach twenty years—
two years off yet. Master Tailor! Here, to my side! This
young man needs a wardrobe, as I told you."

The thin, lank tailor came with his tapes, chalks, pad, and
pins. Tom submitted to the most careful measuring he had
ever had, even to the length of his fingers and the width of
his palms.

"Gloves are in this year. Rosemary says," chattered Manda
happily.

"I'll have to have a week or ten days to run up the suits
and doublets," the tailor was saying at the same time. "Shall
we set a first fitting for a week from Tuesday?"

"Wait! Wait," cried the Librarian. "I won't be here after
tomorrow. You'll have to make the clothing and bring them
to me at Lexor in time for the Opening of Session."

"Tom!" cried Manda. "I need you here. 1 was hoping we
could spend the rest of the summer together at Overhall."

"Remember what we discussed, Manda? I've just come
from Murdan and he sends me to your father, the king, as
soon as I can leave. I told him tomorrow."

Manda looked so disappointed that Tom thought for a
moment she would cry. Seating herself on a chair, carefully
so as not to puncture herself with any of a hundred straight
pins scattered everywhere about her person, she said:

"I need to hear about this. Ladies! Master? Kindly take a
few minutes of rest. The cook has a buffet laid in the parlor.
Go over and have a bit to eat and a stoup of Overhall ale.
We'll be working until past midnight, I think, especially as
Master Tom is leaving tomorrow!"

The seamstresses and the tailor and their assistants grate-
fully departed. They had been at work with the princess
since lunchtime and it was well after dark by now.

"A little supper will be welcome," hinted Tom.

"Tell me first what you and Murdan agreed upon, and
then I'll let you eat," Manda growled. She patted the chair
beside her and Tom took it, admiring the flustered, flushed
look of her.

182

Don Callander

"You remember my talking about superstitions?"
"Yes, of course. What has that to do with Murdan?"
"Not Murdan, but with Queen Beatrix."

"Explain, please."
He did so and when he was finished, she sat back,

stretched her shapely legs straight out, and sighed.
"I would like to go with you to Sweetwater Tower."

"Sweetwater Tower?"
"My stepmother's castle on Brant Bay. Pretty place, for

all it is often foggy and damp. You'll be going there, for
there she will be delivered of my half brother or half

sister."

"Ah! I had assumed she was in Lexer."

"It's a short ride southeast of Lexor."

"You and Queen Beatrix are friends?"

"I haven't seen her since her wedding three years ago,
but we've written to each other, rather stiff and formal. I
think I like her, although she's perhaps rather too quiet and

withdrawn."

"Murdan says that's because she's frightened, alone in a

strange part of the land."

Manda picked at the unsewn hem of her skirt, a richly
brocaded, deep orange affair that suited her magnificently,

even in its unfinished state.

"He's probably right. I was really still a child at the time,
so I hadn't thought of her as being just plain scared. It fits,
however. Perhaps now I understand her better."

"But you feel you'd be unwelcome at Sweetwater

Tower?"

"Murdan says it would be folly to give Uncle Peter a

chance to blame anything that went wrong on me. People
expect me to be jealous, he said, even if I'm not at all. I
do wish it weren't so. I would like to get to know Beatrix

better. One day I shall."

"Of course you will! But for now, I must go alone and
you must be a princess and prepare for Session. I'd like
nothing better than to have you travel with me again. You

know that!"

"I know, beloved. And I also know my duties and respon-
sibilities, so I won't make any fuss—at least not in public—
about losing you for two months. But tell me, what will you
do in Sweetwater Tower?"

DRAGON COMPANION         183

"Get to know your father the king, for one thing. It's
important that he like me and trust me, wouldn't you
agree?"

"Absolutely so! What else?"

"There's this business of having a human nearby—with
all the supposed powers of a human. It may—will, Murdan
insists—make it very difficult for Gantrell to fake an evil
omen, perhaps to cause a miscarriage."

"Yes, I see what you mean. Yes, having a human like
you as an attendant and friend would help offset any wicked
tricks Uncle Peter might be tempted to try. A good plan,
I say."

"I suppose what I'm supposed to do is, when the king's
magicians and wizards try to ward off evil with spells, I'll
reinforce them with common sense."

"Human common sense, which has served us very well
recently. All of Fredrick of Brevory's wards against being
caught stealing Rosemary were brought to naught because
they were intended to ward against our own magics. You
used human sense and won through. And the matter of
Retruance being trapped, also. If we'd sent for a divining
sorcerer, we'd likely be baking and freezing on that canyon
floor, still!"

Momie and Clem brought them sausage, cheese, and
bread from the buffet. All four sat amid the bolts of cloth
and piles of laces and brocades, tapes, scissors, and packs
of needles and pins, to picnic at midnight.

Tom asked Clem if he would go with him to Sweetwater
Tower. The trapper merely nodded his head and asked when
they were leaving.

"After breakfast," Tom told him.

"Might not it be better to leave before dawn, by the
postern?" Clem asked around a fistful of grapes.

"No, I want everybody to know I'm gone and where. We
want Gantrell to know about it as soon as possible."

"Who will tell him?" asked Momie.

"Probably the comptroller. Plume," said Tom. "He seems
to be in regular touch with the Gantrells."

"A spy in our midst!" exclaimed Manda. "Why doesn't
Uncle Murdan clap him in Aftertower with that slime,
Fredrick?"

"Because a known spy is of more use to us than he is

184

DRAGON COMPANION         185

Don Callander

to the enemy," observed Clem. "I've got a bit of business
with the sour-faced number juggler. He has yet to pay me
for my services as tracker to Wall."

"You didn't lose your furs at least," said Manda, sym-
pathetically. She knew, now, how much work it had been
to collect pelts all the previous winter.

"They brought a good price, as we were among the first
to come to Wall this season, thanks to the Dragon. As for
the tracking, I didn't want to charge anything, but Lord
Murdan insisted. He gave me a piece of paper instructing
this accountant to disburse cash to me. I'll go to him first
thing tomorrow, before breakfast, and demand payment. I'll
put the money aside for our future, Momie."

"Ah, yes! And you'll accidently let slip the information
that you go with me to Queen Beatrix and King Eduard?"

"Exactly."

"In which case, to make it seem more authentic, maybe
we should leave quietly and before first light—as soon as
you've got your money in hand," decided Tom.

"Thank goodness we'll be too busy to miss you men,"
said Mornie, making a face. "Will you write me, Clem?
Can you write anyone at all, Clem?"

"Saucy miss! Of course I can and will write! My spell-
ing is not that good, but you'll be able to ferret out my
meanings, I'm positive."

The dressmakers trooped back into Manda's sitting room
and soon were hard at work, leaving the young men with
no more to do but say good-bye and go to their beds.

THE cocks in the roosts in the top bailey had yet to make
a sound when Clem pounded heavily on the comptroller's
door, deep under Foretower. After a long wait and two
more bouts of pounding. Mistress Plume, looking quite
disheveled in a faded old nightdress, opened the door to
admit the ex-trapper.

"I must see your husband, mistress," said Clem. "I depart
in minutes for the east and may not return for a quarter year
or more. I will need my money."

"I'll awaken the old rat," said Mistress Plume. She seemed
to relish the idea of disturbing her husband's sleep more than
regret the loss of her own. While he waited in their bleak
parlor, almost bare of furniture except for a large, high desk

and a shelf of heavy, leather-bound books, Clem heard the
lady rousing her sleeping husband with ungentle words.

"Going off on your own then?" asked Plume when he
appeared, buckling his belt and rubbing the sleep from his
small, close-set eyes.

"No, comptroller. I go with Master Tom, the Librarian,
my friend."

He handed Plume the Historian's order. The other exam-
ined it closely as if suspecting a forgery.

"Well and good, then," Plume said at last. "All's in order.
I am happy to serve you. Master Clematis!"

He tried very hard, but failed miserably, to seem cor-
dial and helpful. He asked questions about the proposed
journey.

"To carry a message to the king?" he repeated, pausing
in his counting of silver vols into Clem's hand.

"I wouldn't know about that," replied Clem, watching
in distaste the way the accountant lovingly fingered and
caressed each coin. "Master Tom is to serve the queen, I
hear, in her remaining weeks before childbirthing."

"He is a physician, too, then?" cried Plume in some
surprise.

"I have no idea. He is, after all, a human. Humans have
some strange and useful ways, they tells me. Thank you,
comptroller! I apologize again for awakening you so early.
We depart at once."

And he took his heavy bag of cash and his leave, noting
as he shut the heavy door on the comptroller and his wife
that the former seemed rather excited, while the other showed
signs, clear to the sharp-eyed woodsman, of distress .. . and
disgust.

DRAGON COMPANION         187

^17^
The Heartland

SOUTHEAST of Murdan's Overhall the rolling countryside,
checkerboarded with newly plowed fields, and square
woodlots, was pleasantly studded with stone farmhouses
and sturdy frame barns, all surrounded by freestone fences—
the small Achievements of freeholders whose forefathers had
combined a sweet soil, careful husbandry, and hard work to
build moderate wealth on grains, cattle, pigs, cheese, butter,

and draft horses.

The day was hot but breezes blew from the northwest,
promising a rain shower by afternoon. The sun glinted
brightly off ponds and streams every few miles. Foals
capered about their dams in the short-cropped grass of
pastures on either side of the wide roadway. Their mothers
stood watching the passersby with calm eyes, sometimes
nodding in greeting as they passed.

At one freehold after another, the travelers called polite
greetings to farmers and their field hands, but didn't pause.
Their first destination was Ffallmar Farm, where they
planned to spend their first of five nights on the road to

Sweetwater Tower.

The two young men swung along the smooth dirt road
at a good pace, chatting of this and that, mostly of the
scenes through which they walked. They had agreed to
travel lightly, so each carried only a thin backpack contain-
ing changes of linen, toilet articles, and a fresh shirt or two.
They both wore swords at their belts, balanced on the right

by scabbarded knives.

"We'll have to find a place to get lunch soon," Tom
observed, peering up toward the late-moming sun. "I'm

getting hungry, aren't you?"

"A woodsman is always hungry," replied Clem with a

broad grin. 'There's a village just ahead. I saw it from the
last rise."

"They'll have an inn, perhaps," said Tom, remembering
the Slippery Slate at Wall. "They can give us something to
eat, I suppose."

"These inns are required to have provender for men and
beasts alike," Clem told him. "By the king's law."

"A sensible law," Tom said. "From a sensible king, do
you think?"

"I never thought much about such high persons," Clem
admitted, kicking a stone into the ditch without breaking
his stride. "Those of us who work for our living have little
time for discussing our betters."

"But surely you would have heard opinions over a pint
of ale of an evening, perhaps in Wall?"

"Just gossip!" cried the trapper. "I pay no attention to
that guff."

"But others do speak of kings and such, do they?"

"More than you would believe!"

"What, then, do these others—these gossips—have to say
about the qualities of King Eduard?" Tom asked, pushing
the issue.

"That he is a good man. That he seems to be sensible,
if you like! That he is handsome—that from the ladies, of
course—and that he is strong of hand and sharp of eye—
from the men. They have no great complaints about the
king. .. ."

"But the new queen?"

"I know you spoke of her with Princess Amanda, Tom.
What do you want me to add?"

"What your friends think or what you've heard them say.
We'll shortly be in her service for some months. I'd like to
know how she is perceived."

"Perceptions are chancy things," observed the trapper.
"Well, since you insist. . . Beatrix of Knollwater is a very
beautiful woman, they say, but a quiet one, who seldom
speaks out in public. Most men think she's cold and
distant, maybe uncaring. Women say she is unhappy—or
afrighted."

"Thank you, Clem. I know what Manda says, and Murdan,
but I value an outside opinion. There's that village ahead!"

r

188

DRAGON COMPANION         189

Don Callander

SPREND lay astride the roadway. A slowly winding, clear
brook, known locally merely as the Brook, ran north to
south through its middle. Just across the stone bridge stood
the Babbling Bass, a substantial, rambling two-story inn
fronted by an elm-shaded dooryard and backed by spacious
stableyards and an apple orchard. The trees were already
heavy with young, green fruit.

Along the Brook, on pilings driven down to hold back
slips of sand or soil from the stream, a dozen men of all
ages sat, fishing poles in hands and lines in the water.

As Tom and Clem came across the bridge, a youngster
near the bridge suddenly jerked his line from the water and
landed a flopping large-mouthed bass. He grinned up at the
travelers and popped the fish into a reed-woven purse by

his side.

"You've brought me luck, good sirs!" called the lad,
while the other fishermen scowled, pretending to be dis-
pleased by the mere boy's catch and the interruption by

strangers.

"Sell us your catch for our lunch?" Clem shouted back,
leaning his elbows on the wide parapet.

"Gladly!" replied the lad. He grounded his pole and
brought them his creel basket, in which the bass was still
flopping on a bed of wet green cress. "The keeper of
Babbling Bass will fry it up for you, quick as I can tell

about it."

Tom paid him five new coppers for the fish and invited

him to come dine with them at the inn.

"Ah, no, sir! I'm off to my own home, where my mother
will have luncheon for me and a scolding for fishing instead

of cleaning the henhouse."

"Wicked boy!" laughed Tom. "Here, have another pen-
ny. 'Twill make Mother feel the better for your playing

hooky."

The boy thanked them, recommended them to the inn-
keeper, who now stood in the dooryard, his spotless white
apron flapping in the breeze. Grinning from ear to ear, the
lad dashed off, not forgetting his fishing pole on the bank
of Brook. His fellow fishermen nodded at the strangers and
returned their attention to their poles and lines.

They ate the freshly caught bass and found it delicious,
in the dim, low-ceilinged common room of the Babbling
Bass, and talked easily with the innkeeper, who, it turned

out, was a retired guardsman of Murdan the Historian.

"Yes, I served him long before he built Overhall, even. We
were young blades, those days, always fighting great battles
and chasing beautiful ladies! I mind me one time . .."

And he was off on a rambling tale of how Murdan had
met his wife, the late Murielle, to which the travelers lis-
tened both because it was polite and because they learned
a great deal about their Lord Historian at the same time.

"How did Murdan come to be so close to the king? They
are related, I understand," Tom asked, pushing his emptied
place away.

"They are half brothers and were friends from early boy-
hood. Shared the same tutors," said Fling, the innkeeper.
"They fought the Barbarians, side by side in the snow. The
prince, the king as he's now, was Commander of the Blue.
His royal father was not at all in favor of his only son
leading us in battle. We were ever in the center of every
fight, proud and glory seeking, ye know! Ah, foolish, I
might now say, what with all my years."

"A good commander, was Lord Murdan?" asked Clem.

"The very best! Old Gantrell, the young lord's father
he was, was Commander of the Green. Much too stodgy!
Wouldn't stray from a direct line for anything, they said.
He did keep his men alive and well fed, however," added
Fling, admitting, now that he was close to a hundred-fifty
years, that this was a good idea, after all.

"We go to the king and his new queen," Tom told the
innkeeper as they finished lunching and prepared to leave.
"I'll give him your greetings, if you like."

"I would be ... well, quite overcome with gratitude, sir,
young sirs! Mayhap he won't recall old Fling, although we
had some exciting times together—me and the king who
was then Prince Royal, and the Historian, who I served as
batman—as valet, as they call 'em these days. Give His
Majesty Fling's love and fealty and good memories. And
Her Majesty the queen, too, for I suspect she'll need all
good wishes, poor thing."

The jolly innkeeper's honest well-wishings sped them on
their way.

FFALLMAR was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a ruddy,
square face and intelligent, thoughtful eyes who had a

190

Don Callander

marvelous way of breaking into a sunny smile when he was
pleased, which was often. His wife and children adored him,
it was obvious, and his men and maids served his needs with
friendly, cheerful willingness.

The broad acres of Ffallmar Farm were beautifully cared
for, the dairy cows were pampered like household pets,
and the orchards promised a great crop of tart-sweet pip-
pins—those that make the best eating and cider press-
ing, according to Ffallmar, as he showed them about his

place.

Young Eddie and his sisters—Valery, very much the
young lady, and Molly, who hadn't decided yet whether
she was tomboy or lady (and was some of each, in her
delightful way)—followed them about, proudly displaying
their own pigs, chickens, and ponies.

Their mother. Rosemary, supervised a gala supper and
prepared a guest room for each of them in her spacious,
spotless, low-eaved house. Hot baths and clean clothes
were waiting for them when the farmer at last brought
them inside. The imminent rain was beginning to fall, a
blessing on the fields and apple trees.

"I can see why you chose Ffallmar for husband," Tom
said to the lady of the house as they sat down to dinner.
"He's a delightful, sensible man! I like him very much."

"And handsome, too!" added Rosemary, highly pleased
at his words. She passed a pitcher of chilled cider to Clem
and told her husband again how the wicked kidnapper
Freddie had sniveled and sobbed when these two caught

him at Wall.

"I rode a Dragon!" cried Eddie, waving a chicken drum-
stick aloft. "We flew over the ocean and over the cliffs!"

"Son, eat that leg or put it back on the plate," admon-
ished his father, but he smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. "He
wants to be a Dragon Companion himself one day. A fine

ambition for a farm lad!"

"There could be many worse ambitions," said Tom. "Even
this Companion will be happy someday to settle in such a
place as this and make his land fruitful with grain and apples
and healthy, happy children."

When Rosemary at last led her offspring away from table
and headed them unwillingly for their beds, the travelers sat
with Ffallmar on the farmhouse's broad porch, overlooking a

DRAGON COMPANION         191

pond where a flock of snow white geese was settling down
for the night.

"Eduard Ten is all you've heard, certainly," said Ffallmar,
lighting his pipe with a spill brought by a housemaid. "Hon-
est, hardworking, faithful, and fair to his people, especially
his countrymen, the farmers and the small merchants. His
troubles come from a few great magnates, such as Peter
of Gantrell and his noble friends, and a small group of
wealthy commoners, mostly merchants and lawyers. They
all feel they could rule, with a Gantrell as king, better than
King Eduard can rule."

"But everyone seems to think His Majesty does uncom-
monly well as ruler," objected Tom. "Or am I just parroting
what has been told me by friends of the king, men like you
and Murdan?"

"No, I know some quite good men who don't dislike
Murdan nor me but agree with Gantrell on this particular
matter," said the young farmer. "Eduard Ten has power-
ful enemies, and most of them have gone to Gantrell's
camp."

"Why do the rich merchants and lawyers oppose the
king's party, then?" asked Clem, interested despite him-
self.

Ffallmar considered this while he relit his fragrant tobac-
co. His wife returned and, taking up some embroidery,
sat beside him in the last light of day, stitching but say-
ing little.

"These merchants don't want to pay the duties the throne
demands, for one thing. Nobody enjoys paying royal taxes.
No farmer, I can tell you, wants to pay money to support a
distant, high-living court. But most of us realize it's neces-
sary to pay for good roads and safe passage for our produce.
For strong but fair royal justice, also, which is needed in
matters in dispute. So most of us pay with grumbling, but
we pay and on time."

"But?"

"But it seems very wealthy men love their money more
passionately than others not so well off. They hate to see
it go out. They can hire their own soldiers and sailors to
protect their houses, carts, and cargoes. They claim they're
paying twice for armed protection from the Barbarians, for
example. A shortsighted view, but there you are! They

192

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 193

think, because they have managed to make a fortune buying
and selling goods or trying expensive lawsuits in the lesser
courts, they're better suited to making decisions than a king
bom to the crown and its power!"

"Not a new story, I suspect," said Tom thoughtfully. "It

sounds all too familiar to me."

"Nor will it go away when Eduard passes the crown to his
heir," put in Rosemary. "Manda, if she is crowned queen,
will have these and even greater problems. I mention it to
you, Tom, because it seems you'll be close to her when the

time comes."

"It worries both of us, of course," admitted the Librarian.

"If it's left at that, Manda has the intelligence and the will

to be a good ruler, I believe."

"I've no doubt of it, especially if she's lucky enough
to have an intelligent, strong consort by her side to help

her."

"If she is made queen," amended Tom.
"If not, what then for you two?" asked Ffallmar

bluntly.

"An Achievement of our own somewhere, I think,"

answered Tom. "I would be most happy serving Murdan
for years to come, but I must make my personal way. With
a princess for a bride, I'd need more income than my wage
from Overhall's library, I imagine."

"No doubt about it!" Rosemary chuckled. "But our Manda
will be content with less than the king's treasury to buy her

gowns and fill her stables."

"I believe so, also," said Ffallmar. "Bring a lamp, Hewy!"
They sat until full darkness, talking of farming and rul-
ing, of crops and courts. And about Queen Beatrix.

"I don't know her at all well," Rosemary answered Tom's
question. "I've only seen her twice, from a distance both
times. That was when she married Eduard. My impres-
sions—and I was little more than a lass myself at the
time—is she was unhappy in the milling, overwhelming
crowds, unsure of her dealings with powerful men and
their rich, proud wives, who know everything and how

to do anything, or seem to."

"Was she an only daughter, do you know?" asked Tom.
"Yes, I believe so," Rosemary answered. "Yes, that might

explain some of her diffidence. And her young life was

lonely, very isolated at Knollwater. Only children, as I can
attest.. ."

"... and I can also tell you, being one myself," Tom
inserted.

"... are often shy and, well, both quiet and spoiled.
Fortunately for me, I early on found a husband who gave
me the confidence to be a sure woman."

"I beat her regularly," teased Ffallmar behind his hand,
loud enough so that all could hear. "It keeps her from being
too spoiled."

"Nonsense! No one is more spoiled than am I!" cried
his wife in mock anger. "Besides, you couldn't beat me at
checkers, husband!"

THE next morning Clem and Tom set out on the next leg of
their journey under cloudy skies and in cool, moist wind.

"It'll clear before eleven o'clock," promised Ffallmar,
bidding them good-bye at his house gate with his wife and
his children, all three of whom had begged to go along.

"I remember that adage from my childhood," cried Tom.
" 'Rain before seven . .. ' "

" '. . . Clear before 'leven!' " finished the children, hav-
ing heard it so many times before from their father.

"We'll see you in the fall at Lexor," promised Rosemary,
slipping a packet of ham sandwiches into Clem's pack. "Be
watchful, gentlemen! Peter ofGantrell is not a man to forget
or forgive, for all his smooth ways! He knows, you can be
sure, who thwarted his plans to make me hostage against
my father's support for the king."

Clem was silent for some time after they began to walk.
At last he laughed aloud. Tom looked sideways at him with
raised eyebrows.

"I've never been privileged to see a noble family this
close," Clem confessed. "I find they are very little different
from most of us lesser folk, from my own family."

"People like Ffallmar and Rosemary are what my father
used to call the 'salt of the earth,' " Tom told him. "They
make everyone else seem better for having them around."

"I've never thought much of having land and wealth,"
Clem went on. "But if I could be like them, it would be
worth the while. Better'n looking forward to setting trap
lines in frozen mud and blowing snow every winter for the

Don Callander

194                   UOn v-aiianuv.i

rest of my life, perhaps. Not that I will ever lose my love

of wild places."

"Nor should you!" Tom exclaimed. "Ah, I would think

Momie would be a happy helpmeet in anything you decided

to do, Clem, farm or furs."

"I hope so," replied the trapper, blushing. "And I'll be

worthy of her confidence in me, Tom. I really will!"
"As for that, I don't spend a moment worrying about it,"

Tom answered.

"WHAT'S that ahead?" he asked, some miles later.
It was another village—a town, rather—on the shore of

a blue lake that stretched to the horizon.
"According to Murdan's map," said Clem, briskly, " 'tis

called Lakehead. It's a Gantrell holding. We'll tread more

carefully from here on."
The very pretty lakeside town was somewhat cheerier and

less grimy and run down than Wall, the only other town of
size Tom yet had seen in this world. The people were
friendly, but they spent little time in pleasantries, rushing
off on this or that errand before a visitor could begin to ask

questions about the best way to go.

A short, red-faced, rather paunchy man wearing a tall felt

hat decorated with a green feather saw them enter the town
square and immediately headed importantly their way.

"A bailiff, by his feather," Clem warned in a quick
whisper. "He'll be Gantrell's man, here. 'Twould be best

not to say too much, sir."
"Mum's the word, then," agreed the Librarian, and he

saluted the official pleasantly but with cool reserve.

"I am Kedry, Bailiff for Lakehead Town and Lakeheart
County," the man announced pompously, with no preamble
or greeting. "It is my duty to ask who you are and where

headed."

"I am Thomas, Librarian of Overhall Castle," answered

Tom. "This is my friend and traveling companion. Clematis

of Broken Land."

"Broken Land, is it?" sniffed the bailiff, in a neutral tone.

"Pew of your kind ever come this way."

"I walk with my friend from Overhall, in order to broad-
en my knowledge of the kingdom," explained the trap-
per.

r

195

DRAGON COMPANION

"We carry the greetings and letters of the Royal Histo-
rian, Murdan of Overhall," Tom went on. "I carry his letter
addressed to His Majesty the king himself."

"What reason has that sly rascal for sending word to
Eduard Ten?" wondered the bailiff aloud.

"I have no idea," protested Tom. "I am but the mes-
senger."

"Messengers must beware, if the message is bad news,"

warned Kedry, frowning at them meaningfully.

"I can but assume that, as Murdan is Royal Historian,
my master often has important words to write privately to
the king," Tom said stiffly, giving the bailiff back look for
look. "Few would dare to interfere with any letter addressed

to the king, I think."

The bailiff stood back a pace, looking as though he might
dispute this, but at last he glanced away and said, more
respectfully, "You'll be looking for a ship going toward

Lexor, then?"

Tom glanced at Clem, who answered with a shrug.
"If that would speed our steps, it would be the way we

want to go," he answered the bailiff.

"Well, in that case, ask for Captain Boscor of Maiden

Skimmer," Kedry said, already moving away into the busy

crowd. "He sails within the quarter hour from City Pier,

out there."

He disappeared and the two travelers followed his gesture

to a wide stone mole that jutted into the lake from its rocky
shoreline. City Pier was lined with boats and ships of all
sorts and sizes, some of them passenger packets, Tom
decided, but most small cargo and fishing vessels.

They asked for Maiden Skimmer and were directed by a
fisherman to the far end of the pier. "She's that two-master

there."

Approaching the ship, which was busy with all the prep-
arations for sailing, they were suddenly halted by an elderly
man in shabby clothes, with a heavy gray beard and red-
dened eyes.

"Ye seek to sail aboard Maiden Skimmer]" he asked,

blocking their way with a stout cane.

"We seek a way down the lake to Lexor rather,"
answered Clem sharply. "Do you object to this Skimmer,
Oldster?"

r

196               Don Callander

"Bonny lad!" said the man, more softly. "I wouldn't
recommend Boscor's ship to anyone wearing the livery
of Overhall. He's the haughty follower of ... well, ye can

guess, can't you?"
Tom looked over the man's shoulder to where the sloop

was beginning to warp away from the pier, her sailors busy

hoisting sails.

"I can guess, but we are peacefully traveling on our

master's business to the king," he explained. "What would

you have us do, rather?"

"Delay your departure an hour or so. I recommend you

sail with a king's man known as Trover. His ship's down
the shore a short way. Called Pinnacle Flyer, she is."
"And this Trover is more friendly to Murdan?" asked

Clem.

"I can guarantee it, as over Boscor."

"Well, talking to you, old coot, we've missed Boscor's
ship, anyway," said Clem. "I suspect your advice is good,

however."

"If 'tis," said the ragged man, "I could use a penny or

three, just to thank me for the tip. We are being watched,
and I have the reputation of being a vile beggar, you see."

"Walk down the shore with us and talk to us," said Tom,
"and perhaps—no, I guarantee—you'll get your tip."

"Done!" cried the man, who looked a heavy drinker,
although he was quite sober at the moment. He led them
off City Pier and turned eastward, down a narrow path
that paralleled the pebbly lakeshore. The way was lined
with shops, sheds, shipyards and sail lofts, ropewalks
and chandleries, all very busy. Boats and ships of every
description were moored close to shore. No one seemed to

note their passing.

"Here in Lakehead, everyone minds his own business,"

explained the codger when Tom remarked upon it.

"Except you," Clem said quickly.
"It's my business to look after Murdan's business, here.

I am his eyes and ears in Lakehead."

"Is it so?" asked Tom. "You saw his blazon on my sleeve
and knew we would be in trouble if we took this Boscor's

sloop?"

"Oh, I had word of your coming from the Historian him-
self. I ekes out me living, or so it seems, selling and buying

DRAGON COMPANION         197

pigeons and doves. In amongst them are well-trained hom-
ing pigeons secreted. Murdan and I exchange little notes
now and again."

They had walked beyond the last of the shops and works
and rounded a bend in the shore. The dove man went
faster and straighter, no longer leaning so hard on his
thick cane.

"You be Thomas Librarian, who rescued the Historian's
daughter. And you, sir, are the doughty woodsman who
showed him the way."

"You've established that you are well informed for a
town drunk," said Clem, still suspicious. "Do you also sell
information to a certain bailiff here? Didn't the fat one set
you on us, just now?"

"I saw Kedry bespeak you, certainly, but he and I never
talk to each other. He suspects what I am—but then, he
suspects everybody equally. Maybe this will convince you,
youngster. Last night you sat at Ffallmar's table and ate roast
spring lamb with Lady Rosemary's best mint sauce. Is that
right?"

"Correct," admitted Clem. "How came you to know
this?"

"Lord Ffallmar sent a bird to me this morning, and the
menu was to be my proof of good intent, of course."

"I'm convinced, then," said Clem with a grin, giving the
man a clap on the back.

"You'll live longer in the east, if you're suspicious of
every man," grunted the pigeon breeder. "When ye've
sailed, I'll send a fast bird off to Overhall. I imag-
ine old Murdan will be relieved to hear you went
with Trover, rather than Boscor. Incidentally, Trover
and Boscor are brothers, to muddy the waters even
more."

"There's an interesting story in that, I'm sure," said
Tom and, as they walked slowly along beside the lake,
the bird seller told them about the two captains who clung
to opposite sides in the old conflict between the Crown and
the Standing Bear.

They never did learn the pigeon seller's name.

'WITH the exception of the bailiff," complained Tom,
'everyone we've bespoken so far on this journey has been

Don Callander

198

attached to Murdan and the king's party or, at least, quite

sympathetic with it."

"Do you misdoubt the king's party?" asked Captain Tro-
ver, surprised.

"I only want to hear what his enemies are saying about

the king, about Murdan and about Princess Royal Alix
Amanda. You can't know too much about your enemy's

thoughts, can you?"

"I'd agree with that. Me worst enemy is me own brother,

ye'11 have heard from the dove lover, I warrant."

"Yes, he told us about that," said Clem.

"A good man, for all he talks way to much," said the
rather dour lake captain. "Excuse me. Master Librarian, but

I must see to me sails, now."

He dashed forward, shouting to two of the three men who

formed his crew. The third handled the tiller.

Pinnacle Flyer skimmed along before the west wind,
which carried them and a few brief showers of slanted
rain with it. Once they had left Lakehead, the lake widened
rapidly. They were almost out of sight of the northern
shore while the south shore was already over the hori-
zon.

The wind was warm and wet, not uncomfortable. They

sat on a cushioned thwart just abaft the sloop's single mast.
Captain Trover roamed back and forth, stepping over their
legs to go forward and stand with his hand shading his eyes,

gazing forward.

"Damnation!" they heard him swear. He stomped aft and

stopped next to Tom and Clem.

"We're overtaking him, the slimy rat!"

"I assume you're referring to your brother," said Clem.

"Blast his eyes!" swore Trover. "He must have sailed

late, rather than on time."

"No, Maiden Skimmer was just sailing when we met the
dove seller on City Pier, two hours back," Tom remem-
bered.

"He should have made better time than this!" the cap-
tain calculated. "Something must be wrong aboard Skim-
mer!"

"Will you go alongside her to help?" Clem wanted to

know. His nature urged him to assist anyone, even enemies,
when they were in trouble.

DRAGON COMPANION         199

"I should let the mad dog sink!" growled Trover. He
shook his head angrily. "But... he's me brother, for all
his misguided ways."

He raised his voice to call, "Stand by to go about! Lively
there, boys. Not too near, but close enough to cuss at the
damned reprobate."

^18^
Lake Piracy

A FEW minutes later Pinnacle Flyer had run close enough
to Maiden 'Skimmer to see she lay almost dead in the water,
her sails in heaps on the deck and trailing over. They saw
no one aboard.

"Ahoy!" Captain Trover hailed. "Ahoy, Maiden Skim-
mer\ Boscor, you blacksnake, is this your idea of a joke?
Ahoy, anyone aboard the sloop!"

No answer.

Trover ordered the helm put hard over, and as the wind
spilled from her main, stay, and jib sails. Pinnacle Flyer
rocked to an uneasy stop half a length from the silent
barkentine.

Trover stood beside his helmsman, staring out over the
water at his brother's vessel, taking in every detail, studying
how she lay, how she rolled in the swell.

"Break out the sweeps," he ordered in a subdued voice.

His lake men unlashed long, slim oars from under the
gunwales on either side of the cockpit and set them in
oarlocks on the rail.

The tallest and huskiest of his three men seated himself
on a thwart and dragged the long oars through the water.
In five strokes he sent Pinnacle toward the derelict.

"Easy!" cautioned Trover, signaling to his helmsman
with his hands. "A bit to port, lad. Midships now."

Just as it seemed they would ram the other ship broad-
side, he ordered, "Back water!" and the oarsman pushed

2.00                Don Callander

heavily on his sweeps, slowing the tiny ship to a halt.
Pinnacle's bow scraped softly along Maiden amidships,
swinging slowly to come to rest parallel to her length.

The distraught captain scrambled onto her deck, eighteen
inches higher than his own, while his crew made lines fast

between the two ships.

"Can we help you. Captain?" called Tom.
"Right! Come aboard her, then, sirs. You lads stay at

your posts and be ready to cast off if I say so."               '
The travelers from Overhall joined him on Maiden's    \

empty deck.

"No one," noted the lake captain, puzzled and worried.

"I'll look below. Better come with me, sirs, just in case.

Keep your eyes open."

The main cabin, five steps below the deck, was a sham-
bles. Papers and clothing were scattered over the whole.
Broken glassware and spilled liquids made walking treach-
erous as they moved forward. In the tiny galley alcove half-
prepared food had been left standing and an iron cookstove
still smoldered, chaired rags piled about it on the deck.

"Pirates!" howled Trover, wringing his hands. "My poor
brother! What's been done here? Murder? Larceny?"

"Calm yourself. Captain," Tom soothed. "I see no signs
of violence to men, at least. No blood or bodies. If these
were pirates, they must have taken the passengers and crew

off as captives."

"It appears to me," said Clem, kneeling to examine the

charred rags, "that they hoped to bum her when they left.
This tinder is still hot and smoking. It was too damp to

bum well, is all."

"Toss it over the side," urged Trover with a shudder.

Clem did so, and Tom and the captain followed him up

to the deck.

"Captain!" called out a crewman. He pointed aft. "Maid-
en carried a skiff and a longboat, there and there."

"They've been kidnapped, then," cried Trover. He looked
about in dismay. Maiden wallowed in the choppy waves
pushed up by the westerlies. "They put everybody into
her boats and abandoned her to bum. Even if she hadn't
burned, she'd have drifted before the wind for miles and

miles before she ran on shore."

DRAGON COMPANION

201

"Is this usual?" asked Tom. "Piracy on Lakeheart Lake,

I mean."

"Not in recent years," said one of the lake men when

Trover wandered off, not answering. "Most every boat
family on Lakeheart was lake pirates at one time. Including

the Sacks. That's the captain's family."

Trover Sack returned, shaking his head, now recovering

from his shock.

"If we read the signs aright, they didn't harm anyone.

They'll send a demand for ransom soon. We must return at
once to Lakehead and tell Bailiff Kedry. Not that he could
do much. Wait for the ransom demand . . . and meet it."

"We'll stay with you until you recover your brother,"
Tom promised him. "Man needs company at a time like

this."
"I... I... I thank you, from me heart," replied Trover

Sack. "Ye're strangers here, but good king's men, I see.

Thank you for your help and support!"

He quickly made arrangements for his first mate, the
most experienced of his crewmen, to take command of

poor Maiden and sail her home.

"If you'll be so kind as to lend me your hands," he said to

Tom and Clem, "we can sail Pinnacle while the boys bring

in Maiden."

Tacking against the stiffening breeze, the two ships strug-
gled together back to Lakehead, arriving after dark and
mooring at City Pier in Maiden's usual spot. Even before
they stepped ashore word had spread that something unusual
had happened, and a crowd of lake sailors and merchants

gathered.
"They know Boscor and I wouldn't sail together, unless

something had gone very wrong," explained Trover. "Our

fool feud is the talk of the entire town."

He sent a boy to fetch the bailiff from his supper. Kedry
arrived, red faced and looking angry at the imposition, just
as the sailors finished furling the sails and battening hatches

against the rain and night.
"Ho!" shouted the burly official. "What is it couldn't

wait 'til I'd finished dinner? You brothers had a falling
out, is it? What have you done to him and his crew? And
his passengers? I've a good mind to clap you in irons in

the town jail!"

202

Don Callander                                          DRAGON COMPANION

203

"Wait just a damned minute," said Tom in some heat.
"You don't even know what happened out there and you're
talking of irons and jail!"

"It's my judgment that counts," Kedry screamed back.
"Every man here knows about Trover and Boscor Sack. At
each other's throats all the time! Something like this was
bound to happen in the end, I say."

The growing crowd was quite obviously polarized, half
supporting the bailiff's guesses, the other half shaking their
heads and muttering that he was being unfair.

"Hear their story at least," someone shouted. Tom thought
it was the dove seller, on the back fringe of the crowd, but
he couldn't be sure. Neither could Kedry.

"Well, then, tell us how you did it. Trover. Waited for
him over the horizon and surprised him, was it?"

"No, bailiff! I just got this charter with these two young
men. Otherwise I would not have sailed today at all! We ..."

Kedry squinted at Tom and Clem, saying, "I thought I
sent you to sail with Boscor, lads. Why did you change

your minds, eh?"

"We missed Maiden's sailing and a passerby told us about
Captain Trover," Tom explained patiently. "We sailed with
him aboard Pinnacle, and after an hour or so on the lake he
sighted Maiden becalmed, her sails in the water, and nobody

aboard."

"Pirates!" someone yelled, and the uproar over this kept
anyone from speaking for several moments. At last the
bailiff raised his voice in a harsh, wordless shout and the
furor died away.

"Pirates, indeed!" he scoffed. "We've not had such in
this lake for close to fifty years. It's a story made up by
Trover to fool the law, believe me."

"Be of some sense, Kedry," said an important-looking
gentleman, just arrived on the scene. The crowd parted to
make way for him.

"Mayor Fellows!" the bailiff cried, almost bowing double
at the waist to the newcomer. "Here's a mystery and a
dispute, sir! I say Trover did away with his hated brother
Boscor, and Trover and his passengers say it were pirates!"

"Let us get this inside out of the rain," said the mayor. He
was a tall, middle-aged man, evidently of some position and
respect. He wore a gold chain of office about his neck and
his doublet was discretely embroidered with the Standing

Bear symbol of the Gantrell family, the first Tom had seen
since Wall.

"Can you get a fair hearing in this town?" Tom whispered
to Trover as they followed the mayor off the pier.

"Mayor Fellows is a good man, fair and just, even if
he be a Gantrell creature. He'll control Kedry, at least.
To Fellows, renewed piracy will be more important than
a mere family quarrel."

Tom smiled at the man's new view of his brother. The
crowd followed them all the way to Town Hall on the
square, opposite City Pier. Those not quick enough to take
seats within stood about the open doors and windows to
listen.

"Now, then," began Mayor Fellows, "by virtue of my
powers and duties and so forth, as Mayor of the Town of
Lakehead and Justice of Lakeheart County, I declare open
a court of inquiry under the laws of the king, Eduard Ten,
whom God bless with long life, and the guidance of my
lord, Peter of Gantrell, our liege lord."

He clapped his hands once and sat behind a massive
desk carved with looping ropes and fouled anchors. There
was a pause while someone hastened to bring out flags to
place on either side of the bench. A crier rephrased the
mayor's words with proper regard to ceremony, in a loud,
high-pitched voice.

Mayor Fellows waited impatiently until this was com-
pleted, then slapped the desktop with his open palm and at
once the crowd fell silent.

"Let the bailiff testify first what information he has,
then," said he.

Kedry, looking flustered, stood in the center of the open
space before the mayor's desk. To give him credit, now
under oath, he made a straightforward statement of the facts
as he knew them.

"Now, Captain Sack, let's hear your story of what hap-
pened," said Mayor Fellows. "Under oath, please."

Being sworn. Trover Sack related for the court what he
had done, and when, down to taking his brother's ship under
his care and returning to harbor.

"I understand you dispute Trover Sack's testimony. Bail-
iff Kedry?" inquired the mayor when Trover had finished
and taken his seat.

204 Don Callander

"Well, Your Honor, I may have been hasty in me words,
although it seemed obvious that if our friend Boscor Sack
is dead or missing . . ."

"No evidence of his death has been adduced," (he mayor
interrupted.

"Well, Your Honor, sir, I merely suggest an interpretation
of the facts based on the known quarrel between the Sack
brothers. They've been heard to threaten bodily harm to
each other, ofttimes, even to threats of death! I can take
witnesses from this very crowd, here, to those facts."

"That may be necessary, later," agreed the judge-mayor.
"For now, I'd like to hear the witness of the two young
men who were passengers aboard Pinnacle Flyer."

Tom stepped forward and was sworn in in due form. He
identified himself and his companion, showing the mayor
a letter of introduction that the Historian had provided for
just such a purpose, should it arise. The mayor entered into
the record that their identification was true and proper, as
he recognized Murdan's signature and seal.

"Now tell us, please, what happened today, beginning
when you entered Lakehead."

Tom told the story, ending with the discovery of the sloop
Maiden, adrift and abandoned on the lake.

"Do you have any reason to believe Captain Trover Sack
planned to intercept his brother's ship while underway?"
asked Fellows.

"No, Your Honor. Although I'm not conversant with
ships and sailors' ways, I have to say that when we arrived
at Pinnacle's mooring, which is some distance from the
town, her crew was not prepared or even preparing to sail.
They knew Boscor's Maiden usually sailed on schedule at
noon. Everyone else knew it, it seems, including the bailiff,
who recommended her to take us over the lake."

"Is this so?" the mayor asked the bailiff.

"It is true. Your Honor."

"Then," said Fellows, leaning forward in his chair, "had
Trover intended to waylay his brother in open water, he
would have departed his anchorage at least two hours soon-
er than he did, according to Master Thomas's testimony."

"It would seem so. Your Honor, sir," agreed the deflated
bailiff.

"Then we can accept the matter as Trover and this wit-

DRAGON COMPANION         205

ness testify, I believe. The barkentine belonging to Boscor
Sack, I must believe, was intercepted, boarded, and cap-
tured by unknown pirates and her passengers and crew
carried away captives."

"It would seem so. Your Honor," replied Kedry grudg-
ingly. "And I apologize to Captain Sack for doubting his
truthfulness."

The mayor called for the witness of Clem of Broken
Land, and the experienced woodsman carefully described
what he saw when they boarded the abandoned sloop, down
to the charred rags and the missing boats.

Mayor Fellows heard corroborating evidence from the
three Pinnacle sailors, who were all of good reputation in
Lakehead, being sons of long-standing families.

Then the mayor-judge stood and spoke.

"The court believes piracy has been committed by a party
or parties unknown upon the open lake, against the persons
of Captain Boscor Sack, his crew, and six unknown pas-
sengers, although it remains to be seen whether all or some
of said passengers were perpetrators or victims.

"The court orders the lord's bailiff, who is charged with
prevention, apprehension, and punishment of the crime of
piracy on our lake, to proceed at once to find, arrest, and
bring to trial said pirates and to rescue their victims, if they
still live."

Kedry signified his willingness to begin an investigation
at once. He asked for permission to form a posse to carry
out the search.

"I guess we'll have to wait for the pirates to send some

sort of ransom note, then," said Trover wearily to the
mayor.

"Kedry is an incompetent blowhard and sometimes a
downright fool, but he's an honest, incompetent fool," said
Fellows. "It's possible he'll locate where the captives are
being held."

"Just barely possible," muttered the lake captain, shaking
his head sadly. "I'm not sure Kedry could find his mouth,
with a spoon. Well, friends," he said, turning to Tom and
Clem, "let me invite you to bunk at my house for the night.
It's the least I can do for you."

They accepted his invitation and shortly, while the bailiff
huddled with the two dozen men of his posse on how best to

206

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

207

search out the pirates, the three of them retired to Trover's
lakeside cottage for a late supper.

Over a Spartan meal—the lakeman was a bachelor—Tom
turned Trover's thoughts from his brother's tragedy with
questions about the king and the lord of Lakehead.

"Is Peter of Gantrell an evil man. Captain? Some say he
is so, but others aren't so sure."

"I've heard the gossip and watched the man's actions
from afar. I say that he's no better or worse than many men,
just richer. He's very ambitious, it's obvious. He's said to
have done cruel things, but I've read of kings who have
been as cruel in the past, some for good motives, others
for selfish ones."

"But you personally don't like Lord Peter, do you?"

asked Clem.

"N-n-no, I must admit that I dislike a man with so much
ambition that he forgets he can do great harm to innocents
who might be in his way. Several years ago Gantrell—I
mean Lord Peter, of course—was suddenly given Lakehead
as a holding by our former longtime liege, one Beryl of
Beryl. No one ever found out why Beryl gave up such a
lucrative property. It was rumored that Gantrell forced
Beryl to cede him the whole county as payment of a gam-
bling debt. Unfortunately, Beryl died shortly afterward."
He paused to sip from his mug of birch beer.
"We were upset by the change, you can imagine. Beryls
had been our masters for centuries. We prospered most of
the time, despite outbreaks of piracy. The first two things
Lord Gantrell did were, one, to appoint a respected local
man as mayor. That was a good thing. Mayor Fellows is
well liked and fair, as you could judge from his court of

inquiry."

"Yes, I was impressed with how well he handled it,"

responded Tom.

"The second thing he did was not as popular. He made
this man Kedry his bailiff. Kedry is a long-told joke. He's
tried his hand unsuccessfully at a half dozen different trades.
He lost his father's two ships—bad luck, he claimed; bad
judgment, his creditors said! He opened a chandlery, but
lost all when he lowered his prices to beat his competitors,
and went bust. Another time he tried bottling lake water
and shipping it to Waterfields, where he heard the water

was rank and bad tasting. Imagine! Shipping bottled water
to a place as wet as Waterfields!"

They laughed at Trover's description of the fiasco and
foolishness.

"As bailiff, he uses his office to punish those he feels
drove him out of his businesses. Last year we all signed a
petition against him, and the mayor took it to Lord Peter.
Lord Peter laughed it out of his house! And it was signed by
fifty of the staunches! Gantrell supporters in Lakehead!"

"That was when you turned to the king's side?" Clem
guessed shrewdly.

"I had my doubts long before, but it was the straw that
broke my back, I tell you. We deserve better from the man
to whom we pay enormous imposts each year. Why else
have lords?"

"Why, indeed?" Tom asked quietly.

"There are some very frightened sailors out there some-
where," Clem said as he prepared for bed.

"We may be able to help them more tomorrow," said
Tom from the bed, already half-asleep.

"How so? Neither of us is a boatman. These pirates could
be hiding in any of a hundred coves on either shore, or on a
thousand islands between."

"You forget who will join us in the morning, if all has
gone according to plan."
"Who's that?"
"Retruance Constable, of course," answered Tom.

^i9^
Retruance to the Rescue

THEY were at breakfast when the sun, which was shining
brightly through the east windows, suddenly was blotted
out, plunging the room into shadow.
"What in ... !" exclaimed Trover, leaping to his feet.
"Nothing to worry about," Tom reassured him, con-

208

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

209

tinuing to fork fried egg. "Just a Dragon arriving."

"My God!" exclaimed the captain, rushing to the win-
dow. "The size of him!"

Retruance lowered his great head to the window and
peered in, eye to eye with the lake man.

"Is this the house of Trover Sack?" he asked politely. His
head was at the house but his tail was splashing playfully

in Lakeheart Lake.

Tom came to the window to greet his mount and, after

Trover had thrown the shutters wide, he patted the Dragon

fondly on the snout.

"You had no trouble finding us?" he asked.
"None at all. I stopped this morning to ask Ffallmar if

he'd seen you. He'd received a note by pigeon saying you

were staying with a sailor named Sack."

"Have you had breakfast. Sir Dragon?" asked Trover,

swallowing his amazement long enough to remember his

manners.

"Yes, thank you. I found the lake trout in your waters

most delicious!"

He retreated to the lake—a Dragon finds few freshwater
lakes large enough to actually swim in comfortably—while

his companions finished breakfast.

"What's to do?" Retruance asked, when they appeared
on the lakeshore, accompanying the captain. "Are we off
to Lexor now, or direct to Sweetwater Tower?"

"We've got a task to do here first." Tom told him the
events of the previous day. "We need to search out these
pirates and rescue their captives, especially Captain Tro-
ver's brother."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find 'em," Retruance said with
great confidence. "We'll go aloft and look for signs of 'em.
If they're pirates, they'll probably stay near the water, I'd
think. Boats are pretty hard to hide and harder to drag
overland, aren't they?"

It took a bit of persuading to get Trover to climb aboard
the Dragon's brow and fly out over the lake, but the thought
of having to wait on shore for others to rescue his brother
steeled him to do it at last. Shortly they were winging over
the calm, blue water. The Dragon flew with his pinions
widespread and almost unmoving, providing a slow and
silent flight. Tom knew from past experience that the Dra-

gon's blue-silver underside made him virtually invisible
from below.

"Skimmer was just about here when we found her," said
Trover. He had quickly adapted to the viewpoint, the result
of years of reading charts, which were, after all, a kind of
overhead view.

"Where would you go if you were in an open boat in the
middle of such a sea?" Retruance asked.

"The nearest shore is sixteen miles north of here—but
the road along the North Shore is rather heavily traveled by
local merchants and those who can't afford lake passage. If
I were a pirate, I wouldn't want to go ashore there," said
Trover Sack.

He hunched forward in the Dragon's saddle, studying
the scene below; lake, waves on the shoreline, and islands
scattered over the surface as far as the eye could see.

"In fact," he said thoughtfully, "having given it some
thought during the night, I've about decided that, if it
were me, I'd head for one of the larger islands just over
the horizon to the east. Bear Claw, perhaps, or Midlake—
no, not Midlake. There's a fishing village there."

"How many islands are there?" asked the Dragon, serene-
ly banking to head east again.

"No one's ever counted that I know of," answered Tro-
ver. "Fifty, perhaps. If you count the really small ones, ten
times that number. Only a few are large enough to hide a
handful of men and at least two boats, however. That leaves
maybe twenty islands to look at."

"We've got the time and the Dragon," decided Tom.
"Let's give them a good look from the air first. If we see
anything suspicious, we'll investigate. If not, we can look
more closely later."

"The south shore is mostly swampy and tangled," said
the Dragon, who had flown that way many times. "It's an
equal thing, whether the south shore or the islands would
make the better hideaway."

"My own feeling would be to hide on an island. My
grandfather, who dabbled in piracy in his time, I suspect,
used to say, 'Stick to what you know best.' Pirates usually
do best on the water, not dry land."

They flew over the first of dozens of green islets dotting
the surface of the lake, some with narrow, rocky beaches,

210

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 211

a few with no beach at all. All had close-set central crowns

of pines and cedars.

"Bear Claw, over there," said Trover, pointing off to the

right. "It's one of the largest, but very rugged and steep
sided. Too steep to log, you see. Fishermen turn loggers in
winter when they can drag the logs through snow to open
water and float them home. Most of these isles are burned
clean of underbrush every few years to keep them from
becoming too tangled for dragging the trees out. Not Bear
Claw, however. It's without a safe harbor and too chopped

up for logging."

"We'll take a closer look at Bear Claw, though," said
Tom, and the Dragon swooped low over the rounded isle,
circling while they peered down at it from a hundred feet

in the air.

"See? No place to pull even small boats out of the

water," Trover said, shaking his head. "Hardly any level
ground anywhere, even if you could drag your boats up the

cliffs."

Clem, who was best at reading signs, nodded agreement.

The Dragon climbed back to a thousand feet and the search

continued.

"Would it do any good to ask the fishermen of Midlake

Island?" wondered Clem.

"Not likely! They're all likely to be related to the pirates

if not actual pirates themselves," sniffed the lake captain.
"They're a suspicious and closemouth lot at best."

"Maybe a fire-breathing Dragon could convince them to
talk," said Refinance, shooting a short, hot flame before
them to demonstrate, much to Trover's discomfiture.

"Hold to that thought, if needed," said Tom with a laugh

at the Dragon's pretended ferocity.

The search went forward until after the sun reached the
top of the sky and began to slide down the other side.

"We should have brought lunch," complained Clem. "I
was forethoughtful enough to bring a loaf of bread, in case

you're interested."

" 'Woodsmen,' " Tom quoted, " 'are always hungry.' "

"I can go as long as any man without victuals," huffed
Clem, "but in this case, if we're to have lunch, we've got
either to land and eat my bread ... or go back to Captain
Trover's cottage."

"The lake's full of great trout," Retruance reminded them.
"And Dragons are unsurpassed fishermen."

He chose a tiny, flat islet crowned with white birch,
gray poplars, and dark green firs but with a gently sloping,
shingle beach. While the Librarian explored the island on
foot—its only inhabitant was a huge porcupine, asleep in
the sun in the lee of a boulder—and Clem scrambled to the
highest point of the island to look about, the Dragon quickly
captured four fat lake trout. By then, the lake captain had a
fire going and was ready to broil them.

When Tom returned, having failed in an attempt to rouse
the sleepy porcupine and Clem slid down the rocks from the
top of the island, the trout were sizzling cheerily in a black
iron frying pan from Clem's pack. From the pack Clem also
produced a large white onion and the loaf of bread. He
sliced them both and, when the fish filets were ready, made
trout-and-raw-onion sandwiches for everybody. To wash
their food down they dipped up cold, fresh lake water.

"What next?" Retruance asked, his usual question after
lunch.

"More scouting, I guess. Unless anyone has a new idea
where to look," Tom said. His companions shook their
heads.

"We should keep in touch with Lakehead, perhaps,"
thought Trover. "Kedry and his posse may have found
something. And there'll be a ransom note delivered soon,
I think."

"With Retruance's speed, we can return to Lakehead in
a few minutes," said the Librarian. "We'll check there later
in the afternoon."

"Work like this requires patience," Clem pointed out.
"Don't give up yet."

The fire was doused. The Dragon carried them aloft once
more and they resumed looking down at dozens of islands of
all sizes, from square yards to a few square miles.

The sun was slanting down to the horizon behind them.
A new gray cloud bank in the west, laden with rain and
flashes of lightning, threatened to cut the long summer
afternoon short. They'd gone thirty more miles across the
lake until no more islands showed ahead. Tom suggested
they turn back.

"Good!" cried Retruance. He made a wide, banked turn

212

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

213

and set a course toward the sun just as it reached the tops
of the thunderheads piling up in the Carolna midlands.

"Aha! Hoy! What do I see!" cried Clem just then, point-
ing straight ahead. "Is that a whiff of smoke?"

"Probably one of the fisher villages," said Trover. He
rubbed weary eyes and studied the faint blue trace of smoke
rising straight into the unmoving afternoon air.

"No, no, a village would have more than one smoke,"

Clem insisted.

Retruance slowed his pace and dropped down to keep
the thin apostrophe of smoke between them and the sun.

"Hook Island!" exclaimed the lake captain, recognizing
it as they came closer. "No village there. We passed over

it earlier, I recall."

"Carefully now. Dragon," cautioned Clem. "Slow, low,
and easy. We don't want them warned of our coming."

Retruance glided silently down, as slowly as possible for
his great bulk and wingspread. They seemed to be standing
almost still, a hundred feet above the dead-calm water in

the lee of the isle.

"It has the look of a campfire rather than a chimney
smoke," thought Clem, aloud. Just then a breeze, stirred
by the approach of the storm, came their way and they all
caught the smell of wood smoke—and of frying fish and

baking bread.

"I think we should look at this one very closely," sug-
gested the lake man. "It could be innocent fishermen, or the
bailiff's boys spending the night after a day's searching."

"Or pirates, hiding," said Retruance. "You see? There?

The island has a neat little cove."

"That's why it's named Hook," explained Trover. As
they dropped almost to the level of the tallest pines atop
Hook Island, he started in excitement.

"Boats! Beached in the cove, under those waterside wil-
lows!"

"Veer away to the left, Retruance," Tom said quickly, but
the Dragon was already changing course to the opposite side
of the mile-wide islet. He made a tight circle below the level
of the treetops and landed abruptly on a flat, smooth rock

at the water's edge.

"I think it's best if you look more closely on foot," he
said. "I'm much too big to sneak up on them, here. If they

are the pirates, I fear they could harm their captives."

"My fear, also," said Trover, grimly. "Some pirates are
bloody enough to dump captives in the lake rather than risk
being caught with them."

Clem led them into the woods while the Dragon sank
down among the rocks, ready to come if called. A deep
blanket of pine needles silenced their footsteps as they
circled the rise in the middle of the isle and followed their
noses toward the cook fire. Under the trees it was getting
darker by the minute, now that the sun had dropped behind
the thunderheads. A fresh breeze smelled of rain as well as
frying fish.

"There!" whispered Clem. He had crawled on his stom-
ach up to the edge of a sharp rise, gently pushing aside
the lower boughs of a young cedar. The others followed
his example and peered over the hill, down into a hollow
at the tip of the cove.

They saw the fire immediately, a bright eye in the gath-
ering gloom. It took a few more moments to make out
other details in the camp. Two figures hunched over the
fire, doing things with pots and a frying pan set on the
coals. Others worked to pitch tents well back from the
fire, among the pines. The watchers on the hill heard the
low murmur of voices and the crackle of the fire.

"Just fishermen?" whispered Tom to Trover, prepared to
be disappointed.

"No, look off to the left, under that steep bank, between
the two white birches," said the trapper. "What do you see
there?"

His companions stared intently at the spot. Just then
one of the cooks laid a piece of dry pinewood on the
fire and it flared, momentarily lighting the tiny hollow
brightly.

Between the birches five people crouched in a row, their
hands behind them, their heads bent low, looking very
tired. Before the light died, the searchers saw their wrists
were bound behind them and they all were threaded on a
stout line stretched between the two trees. The arrangement
allowed them to sit or crouch, but not to stand erect, unless
they all stood at once.

"The one on this end?" Trover said in a choked whisper.
"That's Boscor!"

r

214

DRAGON COMPANION         215

Don Callander

"And the other passengers from Maiden," answered Tom

with a nod.

"No, wait," Clem exclaimed. "There were five crewmen
on Maiden, right?"

"Correct, counting my brother as one of them," answered

Trover.

"And I heard six passengers. Nobody knew who they

were."

"That's what was said at the inquiry," Tom agreed.
"What's your point? I count eleven there, which accounts

for all."

"But just eleven, you see? No more than eleven, which

means . .."

"... that either the crew ... or the passengers ... were
the pirates!" cried Tom, clutching Trover's arm.

"Certainly not Boscor!" grated out the lake man. "He's
tied up with the prisoners. And his crew has been with
him ten, twenty years. They're, most of them, our cousins.
They're the ones tied up!"

"Do you recognize the captors?" Clem wanted to know.

'Too dark!" replied the lake man with bitterness. "We'll
find out who they are, before we hang them."

"Back to the Dragon, then," Tom decided, sliding back-
ward down the ridge on the slippery needles. "We need to

plan a bit on this."

As they moved silently back through the wood, rain
began to drum heavily through the dense pines, accom-
panied by jagged flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder.

Refinance, as the rain began to splash his back scales,
found a shallow cave—a mere overhanging rock, really—
that would shelter his friends. He gathered a clawful of
driftwood and laid a fire in a natural chimney at the back
of the alcove, ready to fire up when they returned.

He heard them coming—a Dragon has four very sharp
ears—and stuck his head and neck out of the shelter to hail
them between crashes of thunder.

"Who would go adventuring without a Dragon!" ex-
claimed Tom. The three were soaked to the skin. The
wind had chilled them, but in a few minutes the Dragon's
close presence and the small fire warmed them and dried

their clothes.

"We can be thankful for the rain," said Trover, wringing

out his socks. "If they were planning to leave any time soon,
they won't now. This wind will kick up a wicked chop on
the lake."

"Not to mention the lightning," said Clem. "We'll want
to move against them at once."

"I see no reason for delay," Tom agreed.

"Maybe let them get settled down for the night," Clem
said. "To tell you the truth, I'd just as soon get this over
with and go back to your house. Trover! It's going to be
very uncomfortable here if we wait very long."

The rain had been increasing steadily and the storm was
moving closer and closer with each thunderclap.

"I don't have any sleepy spells to cast over them," said
the lake man regretfully. "How about you. Sir Dragon? Got
any amulets to make us invisible when we attack? They
outnumber us two to one, and I think they're heavily armed.
How will we get close enough to release the captives?"

"No magic amulets, but something much better," boast-
ed the Dragon. He laid a foot-long claw gently on Tom's
shoulder. "I have a human!"

Trover gazed at the Librarian intently for a short moment
and then laughed.

"I thought there was something different about you. Mas-
ter Librarian! I feel much, much more optimistic about
rescuing Boscor, now!"

Tom shrugged self-consciously, not yet fully accustomed
to being thought of as different. The Dragon's words had
the immediate effect of putting him in sole charge of the
expedition.

"What we'll do," he said quickly, "is use the elements
we've got to hand."

"Elements? Oh, you mean the rain?" asked Clem.

"The rain . .. and surprise. We'll hit them in the worst of
the storm, while they're huddled under their tents, wishing
they could get dry and warm, hearing nothing but the rattle
of rain and the roar of thunder."

The other two and the Dragon's head drew close as he
outlined a simple plan. After a suggestion or two, it was
agreed to and set in motion.

WRACKEY, the largest and strongest of the Bloodthirsty
Band, as they rather vaingloriously called themselves,

216

DRAGON COMPANION         217

Don Callander

checked the bonds that held the prisoners before crawling
back into a tent made of a tarpaulin stretched over a piece of
line between two trees. The hollow was already inches deep
in cold rainwater and what clay soil there was had turned to
thick, slippery mud. First mate Splitter had neglected to lay
a tarp under the tent to keep the inside dry.

The pirate chief cursed viciously and kicked Splitter, who
was already sound asleep on one side of the skimpy shelter,
oblivious to the wet and cold. Drawing no response, the
captain launched several other, progressively more foul
curses at the sleeping mate before settling down in a damp
and smelly blanket.

Lightning blazed close by, making the pirate cringe. It
was followed immediately by a tremendous crash. A close
strike! the pirate thought. Almost on top of me!

Rain, rain, go away! An old rhyme came back. Come
again some other day! Wicked Wrackey wants to . . . sleep!
The thought, if not the rhyme, made the pirate grin uneasily
into the darkness.

A DOZEN yards away, deep in the piney wood, the rescuers
huddled under a spreading hemlock, as much out of the rain
as possible. They had to shout to make themselves heard
over the hammering of the rain.

"Give them a few minutes more to get to sleep," advised
Clem. They had watched by lightning flashes as the pirate
chief checked the prisoners. These unfortunates were left
out in the weather while the pirate crew crawled into their
tents near the drowning fire.

"Remember your assignments," Tom cautioned. "Clem,
the far end of the picket line and cut it clean. Trover, speak
to your brother and tell him to keep his fellows quiet, while
you strip the tether through their arms."

"Understood!" replied Clem, drawing his sheath knife.
He tested its keen edge for the fifth time since they had
left the Dragon's cave.

"Aye, aye, sir!" replied a nervous but determined Tro-
ver.

"Quickly but quietly," cautioned the Librarian. "Don't
take time to free their wrists until you get them away. I
don't think their feet are bound."

The others nodded.

"The Dragon and I'll keep the pirates busy. If anything
goes wrong, call for help in a loud voice and Retruance
will come to your aid at once. Ready?"

Not waiting for a reply, he slid down the bank into the
hollow, darted across the open ground about the drowning
fire, and took station between two of the three tents, facing
the prisoners.

If the captives noticed his dash, they didn't show a sign
of it. They were either asleep, or blinded by the torrential
rain.

Tom watched as two blacker shadows moved swiftly to
either end of the prisoners' line and waited until he saw the
glint of Clem's hunting knife in a flash of lightning. There
was a faint murmur as Trover spoke to his brother, shaking
him alert and awake. The rope slithered through the bound
arms. All five were suddenly on their feet, shakily, but they
followed Trover up the gentler back slope of the hollow.
They disappeared at once under the confusing shadows of
the wind-whipped pines. Clem turned to wave a signal.

"Now!" yelled Tom into the rain-filled air.

One of the pirates gave a snort and a grunt but before
any of the six could squirm from soggy blankets and out of
their tents, a green-and-gold Dragon dropped out of the sky
falling across all three tents at once, snapping the supporting
lines. The pirates within were squashed flat by a ton or two
of hard, slippery scales pushing them into the pine needles
and mud.

They screamed, choked, and struggled, but Retruance
lay atop their shelters, grinning broadly and humming a
cheerful country air under his breath. Wisps of smoke and
flickers of fire came from his wide nostrils, lighting the
scene like some version of pirate hell.

"When you're finished floundering about," Tom called to
them in a loud voice, "the Dragon will release you, one at a
time, to be disarmed and bound."

Most of the pirates began to beg for mercy, wailing pit-
eously, especially those with enough of a view to see they
were being squashed under a tremendous, fire-breathing
Dragon. The leader who had checked the prisoner's bonds
a moment ago lay sobbing in frustration and fear.
Clem returned to help Tom.
"You!" growled Tom, prodding the first pirate figure

218 Don Callander

with his toe. "Up and shed your weapons. Quick! Or the
Dragon broils you alive. No tricks!"

One by one the pirates clawed their way from under the
wet blankets and collapsed canvas.

When Clem at last coaxed Wrackley out from the last
tent, they were sure.

Each of the six pirates was ... a woman!

^20^

Judgment at Lakehead

BLEARY eyed, foul tempered, and more than a bit hung over,
Bailiff Kedry drove his posse onto City Pier at six in the
morning. They had spent most of the previous day picking
flotsam and jetsam from the lake—what Kedry called "sig-
nificant clues"—and the night drinking and talking about
their adventures, mostly imaginary.

"Dear, dreaded bailiff!" called one of the back rank-
ers, before the official had a chance to speak, "we were
on the lake over twelve hours in rain and storm yester-
day. It's pure, blind luck nobody drowned. Several of us
lost valuable boats. Did we find anything that made it all
worthwhile?"

"Of course we did, you damned fool pigeon seller!"
yelled Kedry. "We found ... ah, er ... thirty-two pieces of
rope, seven torn gill nets, forty-three glass floats of various
sizes, a stove-in scuttlebutt, an empty beer barrel, and over
a hundred empty wine bottles. That's not nothing!"

The posse wearily pretended to be impressed. They were
paid five coppers a day to serve and were having a good
time all in all.

The pigeon seller, always the gadfly, retorted, "What do
these pieces of trash mean. Bailiff? Do you know where
Boscor and his crew and passengers are being held?"

"Not yet," admitted the bailiff. "But we're working on
it."

DRAGON COMPANION         219

"Who," someone else asked plaintively, "is 'we'?"

"Listen up!" Kedry shouted him down. "Here are my
orders for the day."

They would again search on the lake, he said, this time
calling at every island. Where there were no inhabitants,
Kedry said, search parties would fan out and examine every
square foot of ground for signs of the pirates.

"Do you realize how many islands there are?" the pigeon
merchant scoffed, incredulous. The posse murmured its
agreement, but not too loudly.

"Police work takes time and patience," Bailiff lectured
them, "and attention to the smallest details. Don't get dis-
couraged! This is only our second day of the manhunt!"

Most of Kedry's searchers had been chosen from his
close acquaintances and drinking companions. They had
no objection to a pleasant voyage on a sunny day to visit
island hamlets. It they were lucky, the fishermen's women
would be alone and well stocked with the particularly potent
liquor they distilled—or so the rumors said—against their
isolation and lack of menfolk through the long days of the
summer fishing season.

Despite the defection of a sensible handful, more than
twenty posse men filed down to the end of City Pier and
were scrambling playfully, like boys on a school picnic, into
a sloop and two ketches Kedry had commandeered, when
someone looked out over the lake and yelped in fear.

"Dragon! Dragon! A Dragon!"

The word flew through the crowd. A number of would-
be pirate hunters immediately remembered promising their
wives to clean their cellars that day and began to shuffle
away across the square.

Kedry was so crowded in by his posse that there was no
room for him to faint, fall, or flee. As a child, his mother
had frightened him with tales of fearsome Dragons .. . and
all the things she warned him never to do again or "the
Dragons would get you," he'd insisted on doing, anyway.

Retruance came winging grandly out of the rising sun,
beating straight for City Pier. His wingtips slapped the
water on each powerful downstroke, flicking up towers of
spray to sparkle in the backlight.

On the Dragon's scaly head rode four men—the two
Overhall travelers, and another pair, recognized at once

DRAGON COMPANION         221

Don Callander

220

as the long-feuding Sacks—although their fight seemed
now forgiven. They were grinning broadly, nodding to the
crowd, and clinging firmly to a Dragon ear.

Trailing the Dragon on long lines were the two boats
missing from sloop Maiden, skipping over the waves at
a breathtaking pace; Retruance's slowest flying speed was
considerably faster than anything a Carolna boat had ever

achieved before.

In their bottoms huddled a ragged, disheveled band.
Clinging grimly to the thwarts, as guards, were Boscor's
four sailors, grinning from ear to ear.

The Dragon, in a move that almost caused the bailiff's
demise from pure fright, settled himself in the water and
lowered his massive head to allow his passengers to step
dry-shod onto the stone mole mere yards from where Kedry
was rapidly turning to quivering, pink jelly.

"Ahoy! Bailiff!" called Trover in a jovial and carrying
hail. "We've rescued my beloved brother—the Librarian,
the woodsman, the Dragon and I. We captured the pirates,
too! Think of the trouble we've saved you!"

A ragged cheer went up from the onlookers. Towns-
people roared their approval at such a brave and daring
rescue. Posse men applauded the fact that they would not
have to spend the day rowing and sailing among a hundred
islands, chasing a fierce crew of pirates. They seemed, all
at once, glad to forgo their fees, the lonely fisher wives and
daughters, and their homemade booze.

The crowd surged forward, despite the nearness of the
immense Dragon, and carried their leader, willy-nilly, right
up to where the brothers Sack and the young strangers were
standing, modestly accepting congratulations.
"Er," said Kedry. "Ah? Ugh!"

"Words fail the bailiff!" shouted Trover to the crowd.
"He's overcome with gratitude and relief that all are safe

and sound."

This brought a loud laugh from the throng. Boscor clapped

the gasping bailiff on the back, as though he were choking—

which he was.

"You had no right.. .," coughed the bailiff. "You had
no authority .. . you should have come to me, not gone off

on your own!"

"You were busy with your own search. Master Bailiff,"

put in the Librarian. "The opportunity arose to capture the
pirates, and we seized it, knowing that to delay would be
to allow them to escape with their prisoners."

"That makes great sense to me," said a new voice. Mayor
Fellows shouldered his way to the end of the pier, smiling
broadly at the rescuers. "I think they did just right," he
said to Kedry. "You'd have done the same, in their shoes,
Bailiff!"

"Ah, and well, er. Your Honor," gulped Kedry, lamely
accepting the soothing compliment. "I suppose you're right,
Lord Mayor!"

"Of course I am!" cried the mayor, and he shook hands
cordially with the Sack brothers, and nodded cordially to
Retruance, Tom, and Clem.

"Our sincere thanks and congratulations," Fellows called
to the Dragon.

Kedry interrupted, struggling to retain a vestige of author-
ity. "You say you captured these pirates?"

"Yes, Bailiff," said Tom, gesturing at the small boats
still trailing offshore at the end of Retruance's tethers. "We
brought them back with us, as you can see."

"Ah, yes. Tell me if I am wrong. Your Honor," said
Kedry, gaining confidence, "but is it not a felony to fail
to punish piracy by immediate hanging or drowning, or at
the very least, abandonment on a deserted island?"

"The old law does say that, I'm afraid," the mayor admit-
ted, shaking his head in regret. "You should have strung
them up or left them to perish on some lonely island.
The punishment for failing to do so is a year of impris-
onment!"

The rescuers looked at each other in dismay and the crowd
fell silent. Most Lakeheaders had great-uncles, grandfathers,
even brothers who had been marooned for piracy. The bailiff
was speaking the truth.

"As to that," said Clem into the silence, "we faced one
small problem."

"What is that?" demanded Kedry, glowering, his confi-
dence restored. "What possible excuse could you find . . . ?"

Mayor Fellows had stepped over to the edge of the pier
and was gazing down into Maiden's boats, which Retruance
had now hauled close.

222

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

223

"Shut your gap, fool Bailiff!" he ordered, sharply. He
pointed at the bedraggled figures in the boats. "They did
right, after all!"

Kedry rushed forward and what he saw almost spilled
him into the lake.

"They're women! Girls! Ladies! What is this? Some kind
of trick? These can't be pirates!"

The pirate's captain. Mistress Wrackey, glared angrily
up at him and sneered, "Why cannot a woman be a pirate?
We're as good or better than your grand-uncle Foghorn,
who was a pirate, Kedry! Successful for nearly seventy

years!"

"Aunt Wrackey!" wailed the bailiff. "How could you?

Piracy!"

"Well," said the lady pirate, allowing Tom to help her
climb from the open boat onto the pier, "it were a more
honest way to be dishonest than taking tax money on the
pretense of being a guardian of the law, like some people
I could name."

The crowd, which by now included almost every soul in
Lakehead, cheered her words and applauded her forthright-
ness. Bailiff Kedry, after the reference to his great-uncle
Foghorn, withdrew within himself and had little more to
say. He tried, instead, to hide behind the full figure of the
lord mayor.

Fellows was on top of the situation, however.

"We'll reconvene the court of inquiry, at once!" he
shouted to the crowd. "All who want, come to Town Hall
in half an hour, prepared to listen and be quiet until justice
is served."

This had the desired effect. The crowd, in a jovial and
excited mood, hurried off across the square to Town Hall,
rushing to get good places.

"ELF," intoned Mayor Fellows from the bench, "is the name
of our species. It means females and males together, as a
race. The word in the law doesn't refer to sex, one way
or the other. We are all 'Elf however delightfully divided
between male and female, as I see it."

"The law," argued Mistress Wrackey, pounding her fist
into her hand to emphasize her point, "does not ever say
a female is forbidden to be a pirate. You may declare it

differently now, but you can't prosecute my band for doing
something that wasn't a crime when we did it!"

The court of inquiry had been sitting for four hours with-
out even recess for lunch, and tempers were getting short
and frayed. Mistress Wrackey glared defiantly at the mayor-
judge, and Fellows glared back at her just as angrily.

"A remarkable lady, your pirate aunt," said Tom to Kedry,
who was trying to sink into the hard seat of the front row.
"She's obviously prepared for this! I think she may win her
case, although I agree with the mayor myself."

"I only wish none of this had ever happened!" wailed the
bailiff miserably. "Everyone will think I winked at auntie's
piracy. I never knew it! Last I knew she was teaching
town's school!"

"Lots of guts, has Mistress Wrackey!" laughed Clem
aloud, calling down on himself the glowering stare of the
mayor.

"Have you something to contribute to this argument? If
not, sir, I would prefer you remain silent."

Clem shrugged his apology, but Tom raised his hand for
attention.

"Yes, Master Librarian?" asked the mayor-judge. "Can
you be of any assistance in this matter?"

Tom rose and approached the bench. Noises from the
crowd, which had slowly grown as the hours passed, dimin-
ished to silence once again. Something new was about to
happen.

"I'm ignorant of the law in Carolna. Would it be a bother
to the court to answer some questions?"

"I have a better idea," said the mayor wearily. "Let us
adjourn for lunch and you can ask your questions over a
bowl of my wife's leek soup."

"You're most kind to ask. Your Honor," Tom responded.
"If I understood some points of law better, I may be able to
suggest some solution to the present dilemma."

The mayor slapped the desktop before him loudly and
proclaimed a recess for lunch. "Court will reconvene at...
urn, four this afternoon. Bailiff, incarcerate the accused in
the town jail."

"Well, Lord Mayor, er. Judge," Kedry hemmed and
hawed, reddening in embarrassment, "I don't really think—"
"I recall," the mayor interrupted, "and you are quite right.

224 Don Callander

Your jail is no place for ladies, even if accused of piracy. I
order you to find a secure place for the accused, give them
lunch, and have them back here at four."

"I'll take them to my own home and feed them at my own
table," promised Kedry, gathering the pirate crew to-
gether.

"Your Worship, I strongly object!" cried the pirate cap-
tain, jumping to her feet.

"Object? As a matter of law, ma'am?" asked the mayor.

"No, as a matter of taste!" retorted the former school-
marm. "I've had the misfortune to eat at the bailiff's table
before, and it's surely quite cruel punishment for us, who
have not yet been convicted."

"Objection overruled!" shouted the mayor over the laugh-
ter of the crowd. "The accused will be fed and housed at the
bailiff's convenience, as the law requires."

After he'd stalked out into the square, he waited for Tom
and Clem to join him, and invited the Sack brothers to
dine with him also. Bored with the endless argumentations,
Retruance had wandered off some time before.

"My wife, on the other hand, is one of the best cooks in
the county," he told them. "Old bailiff's wife must be one
of the worst and I'm not surprised. She's a timid mouse of a
woman, afraid to raise her voice against anyone or anything.
But Kedry is good to her, nevertheless, I must say."

Chatting thus, they climbed the street behind Town Hall
to a pleasant, pillared, large white house on the brow of the
hill, overlooking the harbor of Lakehead. Mistress Fellows,
seeing their approach, met them at the door and made them
welcome, then disappeared with several servants to prepare
lunch for the five men to eat as they talked.

"What I want to ask," began Tom, "is whether you have
to decide this case yourself or if there is a way of passing
it up the line. It seems to me that piracy should be in the
king's jurisdiction, rather than a local matter."

Fellows ate, chewing methodically as he listened.

"I understand what you're thinking. Librarian. Yes, there
is a way to pass difficult cases into royal courts, but perhaps
you'll understand why I am reluctant to do so."

"Unless it has something to do with politics, with Lord
Peter's desire for power, no, I don't understand."

"Ah, but there! You've said it, of course. Lord Peter has

DRAGON COMPANION         225

no wish to yield jurisdiction to the royal court. In addition,
defendants—especially the guilty—would far rather be tried
before a strange judge in a distant town. Justice, on the
other hand, thus loses the advantage of local knowledge
and understanding—often to the detriment of the accused,
I must say, where the accused is really innocent."

"You're telling us that Lord Peter of Gantrell would be
angry with you if you send these pirates to the king to try?"
asked Clem in surprise.

"It's a political fact of life, my lad! This is Gantrell land,
and his wishes must be considered. He is a formidable
enemy when he feels betrayed."

"Would he have to give his permission to move the case
to a royal court?" asked Tom.

"N-n-no," hesitated the mayor. "Actually, I am obliged
only to inform him of such an action. Look here, gentlemen,
I would love to push this case off on someone else! These
women may be pirates, but they are also daughters and
aunts and even wives of local freeholders. If I were to
find them guilty and sentence them to hang, there would
be an awful uproar. Maybe even armed insurrection, against
me and against Gantrell. Law or not, local sympathies

have always been with the pirates, not the victims or the
judge."

"All the more reason to remand the case to the king's
jurisdiction," said Trover.

"If I may?" interrupted his brother.

"Yes, of course. Captain Boscor," said the mayor-judge.

"Other than the fact that we five spent a most uncom-
fortable day and night, no harm was done in this case. I've
got back my ship, thanks to my brother and these good
gentlemen. I even got back my small boats. I lost no money
in the matter, except maybe a day's charter. Sure, the ladies
posed as passengers in order to capture me for ransom, but
if they hadn't come along I would have sailed empty except
for some local freight of no consequence. What if I merely
withdraw the charges of kidnapping?"

"No help, however nobly intended," sighed the mayor.
"Kidnapping is not even under consideration here. The
county has charged them with piracy only, as that's the
more serious crime. Thank you, anyway, Boscor."

The luncheon party fell silent until the servants brought

226

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

227

out milk and lemon cake for desert. Tom broke the silence
at last.

"You're caught in the middle then, sir. It's you who must
decide if the piracy law applies to females, and I don't
see how you can avoid ruling that it does. Otherwise, any
woman could commit serious crimes and escape unscathed,
until the law is amended. A most arduous task, I would

think."

"Too true," said Fellows, sighing deeply. "Am I con-
demned whichever way I decide?"

Observed the Librarian, "You can only do what you think
is right and suffer the consequences. Look at it this way,
Lord Mayor: If you rule that the ladies are to be hanged
or marooned, you'll bring great hardship and perhaps even
violence down on your community. On the other hand, if
you decide to send the case to the king's court, you risk
only one man's wrath."

"Hmmm!" the mayor-judge considered. "As you say,
hurt is inevitable either way."

"In my opinion," Tom said, "making hard calls is one
of the reasons a country has a king. Let him decide and
depose. He's better situated to withstand any furor the
decision might create than are you, sir."

"Yes, I see what you are getting at. But by sending the
case to the king, I may incur not only Gantrell's displeasure,
but the king's disdain."

"Do you believe the king would hold it against you per-
sonally?" asked Clem.

"Well. .. no, from what I know of Eduard, he'd be just
with me, also. Not unreasonable, like Peter Gantrell, is

Eduard Ten."

"Something for you to remember, if it comes to choosing
between them one day," murmured Tom. The mayor gave
him a quick, sharp look, but then nodded and smiled. He
bounded to his feet, his decision made.

"ACCUSED, stand forth. Yes, you may represent them. Mis-
tress Wrackey. Yes, Bailiff, I do need you."

When the accused ladies and the law officer had gathered
before the bench. Mayor Fellows spoke to them in a loud,
clear voice that carried to the crowd in the square outside
and the Dragon perched on the roof.

"I have reached a decision in this matter. It may not
be to everyone's liking, but it's all I can do under the
circumstances."

He paused while one of the pirate ladies wailed and
sniffed aloud. Someone rushed over to soothe and quiet
her.

"This case hinges on a basic interpretation of king's law.
I am not qualified to rule upon that."

The pirates and more than half the crowd gasped and
chattered at the admission, and it was several minutes before
Fellows could get their attention once more.

"As justice of the County of Lakeheart I willingly admit
that I am not competent to make a decision in this case
without advice and consent of royal authority."

The courtroom and the square fell deathly silent.

"I must, from the evidence, find the defendants guilty
of piracy"—another, louder gasp from the audience—"and
will forward this case with a plea for immediate review
by His Majesty of the application of the law on piracy to
females. As this may take months or even years, I hereby
release the accused into the custody of the county bailiff.
Bailiff, it is your responsibility to see to it that all six
defendants are prevented from returning to a life of crime,
and are available when called to retrial or sentencing, based
on the king's ruling on the matter of law."

"But, but, but," stammered Kedry. His face drained of
all color. Fellows beckoned Kedry closer and spoke to him
privately.

"It's your duty. Bailiff, and don't let me hear you com-
plain of it, or I will recommend to Lord Peter that you be
removed and another appointed in your place!"

"No, no! I have no problem with your decision. Your
Honor," squeaked Kedry. "I'll watch them like a hawk!"

"Like a pigeon, more likely!" laughed someone in the
crowd. Tom thought it might have been a certain pigeon
breeder, but he couldn't be sure.

228

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

229

"Not forgot, although I do believe Boscor is leaning a
little toward the king, now," said the captain of Pinnacle
Flyer with a dry chuckle. He punched his brother's arm
lightly. "After all, Wrackey is not just related to the good
bailiff. She's Boscor's wife's cousin, also."

"Yes," sighed the other captain. "We'll have to be careful
not to hurt Cousin Wrackey's case by upsetting the king
with overadherence to Peter of Gantrell!"

"I've not yet met His Majesty," said Tom soberly, "but
from what I've heard and seen, he's perhaps the better man
to follow than Lord Peter. Only time will show you if I'm

right."

Clem and Tom mounted the Dragon and waved good-bye
to the Sack brothers and their neighbors. On the edge of
the crowd Tom saw and waved especially to a somewhat
scruffy old man leaning on a heavy cane. He looked like
an aged and molting dove himself.

"Murdan will hear of our work here, shortly" he said to
the Dragon and Clem once they were aloft over the lake
and heading due eastward. "Now, Retruance, don't fly so
high and fast that we miss the scenery. Beautiful area, this!
I envy those who live near a lake, as only a lad born on
endless plains would do!"

^21^
Sweetwater and Tomatoes

SEVERAL days had been lost in looking for pirates and Tom
wanted to fly straight to the castle on Brant Bay.

"We'll see plenty ofLexor in October," Retruance agreed.
"I'm eager to meet the king and the queen," said Clem.
City or castle, either was enough to stir his enthusiasm.
"And the Blue Ocean, too. I've only seen a bit of the
Quietness Ocean at Wall myself."

Lakeheart Lake stretched more than a hundred fifty miles
to the east, although it was seldom more than thirty miles

wide. Its shores were heavily wooded, at first with pine and
cedar, and later with wide-spreading oaks, towering elms,
and sycamores.

Across the foot of the lake stretched an escarpment over
which water plunged in a great fall, three hundred feet
wide and a hundred feet high. In the mist beside the fall
pool was a large town called Rainbow, where the travelers
stopped for a midday meal. The people they met were cool
and unfriendly, suspicious of travelers wearing Overhall
insignia on their shoulders.

Retruance explained, "The Great Hall of Gantrell is less
than three hours' horseback ride to the north. Lord Peter's
rule is felt in a wide circle."

"But," said Clem, angrily, "is that any reason to serve us
cold soup?"

"The soup is supposed to be cold!" Retruance laughed.
"It's a specialty of the inn, you see. Lord Peter, they say,
particularly likes it. Colder the better!"

"One more reason," Clem muttered into his spoon,
"for. . ."

"For keeping one's mouth shut, unless one wants to
stir up trouble," advised the Dragon. He was stretched
out along the grassy riverbank outside the inn, enjoying
the fall's perpetual cloud of cool spray. "We'll be better
received at Sweetwater Tower. Are we ready to fly?"

"Don't leave a tip," growled the woodsman as Tom
began to count out coppers from his purse. "Service was
not good enough to earn it."

THE country between Rainbow and broad Brant Bay, which
brought Blue Ocean waters to the outskirts of inland Lexor,
was called Override. It was generally flat and watered by
dozens of meandering rivers and shallow streams. The peo-
ple who farmed and lived there, rather than build roads,
traveled mostly by boat. Between the rivers, farms blan-
keted the low ridges while the manors of wealthy land-
owners were built on the highest points, with views of the
falling land on either side.

Along the coast were vast wetlands into which the rivers
flowed and were shattered into intricate networks of chan-
nels. A hundred varieties of birds circled and screamed
there in vast flocks. Retruance picked a more inland course,
where it was quieter.

230               Don Callander

It was three days before they were received by the royal
couple. The Lord Chamberlain Walden, a tall, extremely
elegant man with sharp, suspicious features and chill dig-
nity, when pressed by the Dragon admitted that the king
was in Lexor and the queen never received anyone in his

absence.

"Her Majesty is feeling well?" Tom asked.

"She is feeling well," replied the Lord Chamberlain, who
never said just yes or no to any question. "She has been
informed of your arrival. Librarian, and has sent word that

you are to make yourself comfortable."

Comfort was a meager word for the profuse luxury of
Sweetwater Tower. They were assigned dark, heavily deco-
rated rooms with only narrow-windowed views of the mag-
nificent bay. Each man was assigned a deeply carpeted
velvet parlor, a vast bedchamber with a high, soft bed, and
a number of silent servants to see to their needs.

It was made clear that they were expected to wait in
their apartments and not wander about the castle nor talk

unnecessarily to courtiers or servants.

Retruance got along better—nobody told a Dragon where
to go and to whom he could speak—and he brought news
and gossip when he thrust his head through the midnight
blue drapes of Tom's balconied window for a chat, which

he did several times a day.

"Be patient," he advised. "The air of the castle is not that

of its master or mistress."

"Then of whom?" asked Tom, rather piqued at being

shuffled aside by officious flunkies.

"This overstuffed Lord Chamberlain, mostly. It's his way
of protecting the king, the queen, and their soon-to-be-bom

from what he considers evil influences."

"Us? Evil influences!" cried Clem. "Why, I'd like

to ... !"

"Hold your horses, countryman," said Tom. "We'll make

progress, shortly. A king and queen have a great deal of
business to conduct every waking minute of the day. They
don't yet see how we fit into that day, I imagine."

"You've said it better than I could," said the Dragon with
a shrug of his enormous shoulders. "Say, fellows, if you're
that bored, I can fly you out to the Point to watch the cadets
drill and the ships come and go."

DRAGON COMPANION         231

So on the second full day they went with the Dragon
across the bay to the Point, a grimly fortified castle sur-
rounded by unusually thick stone walls with their feet in
the bay on one side and the ocean on the other. Fleets
of warships and galleys anchored just inside the narrow
entrance to the bay to protect Brant Bay, the city of Lexor,
and the royal personages—not to mention, said the Dragon,
a great number of traders and merchants of all kinds.

They were very well received. Retruance was a—de-
tached—colonel of the Coastal Guards, treated with great
deference and respect. Tom and Clem wished they had
arranged to live at the Point rather than Sweetwater Tower,
for the soldiers were outgoing and cheerful.

A day was all they dared spend away from Sweetwater
Tower. When Retruance flew them back in the early even-
ing, they found Lord Chamberlain Walden huffing and
puffing impatiently with a message from the king.

"Their Majesties will receive you at ten tomorrow mom-
ing. If you had been here, sirs, you would have had a full
day to prepare yourselves for the honor."

Tom gave the man a hard, long look and might have said
something untoward had not Retruance, at the window,
quickly thanked the official and sent him about his business.

"Dragons—and Companions—are not upset by mere Lord
Chamberlains," he snorted, and flew off to take a hot bath.

"A bath, a shave, and a clean shirt," claimed Clem, with
heated determination. "They're all I need to do to prepare
for anyone, even a queen!"

They ignored the perfumed, pressed, and richly embroi-
dered knee breeches and lacy, heavily starched linen shirts
that had been laid out for them.

"Something underlies the bad attitude here," Tom mur-
mured. "And I have come to the conclusion it is fear."

AT ten the following morning the young men were shown
to a waiting room at the base of the tallest round tower.
They kicked their heels alone and watched a steady parade
of courtiers and servants climb up and down the winding
stair on the far side of the vast room.

"I thought promptness was the 'courtesy of kings'!" Clem
grumbled under his breath to Tom.

232

DRAGON COMPANION         233

Don Callander

"Easy, lad! But I certainly would like to know what
Murdan would have to say about the way his emissaries are
treated. I don't care for my self, but if it's a reflection of roy-
al regard for the Historian this country is in deep trouble."

"Nor do I care whether I sleep under a down comforter
or on a hay-strewn floor," said the woodsman. "As you say,
it seems a calculated insult to the Lord of Overhall. What
does the Dragon say? He should know."

Retruance had gone off on an errand of his own. They
hadn't seen him that morning.

"He's embarrassed. He doesn't know what to think about
it. Himself, they seem to treat very well."

"Just plain fear of a Dragon, is why. Personally, I'd just
as soon we were fishing for bass on a lake I know back in
Broken Land," said Clem. "Ah! Here's that glum fellow,

Walden!"

The Chamberlain appeared from a side door hidden by
thick draperies and stalked toward them, chin held too high

and eyes half-hooded.

"He probably would take out the garbage with the same
look on his ugly dial," scoffed Clem.

"Exactly the same," agreed Tom. "Now be quiet!"

"Master Librarian and .. . er. Fur Trapper . .. your wait
is to be not much longer."

With which he turned on his heel and stalked away
through the same hidden doorway. Before it swung closed,
they heard his footsteps climbing stairs.

An hour passed.

Clem pretended to sleep, slumped in his chair. Tom spent
the time studying the rich tapestries that adorned the walls
of the waiting room. They seemed to tell stories of a very
ancient time but his knowledge of Carolna history and
legend was much too limited to give him any clues to

the events depicted.

Shortly before noon a highly polished and beautiful-
ly uniformed guard platoon marched through the waiting
room and up the stairway without stopping or looking to

either side.

"Change of the guard at noon," guessed Clem. Tom sat
down and considered what they should do. Nothing occurred
to him save rushing the stair and demanding immediate
audience.

"But, recall, young Librarian," he scolded himself, "we're
dealing here not only with highest royalty but also a lady
pregnant for the first time, as well. Who knows? She may
even now be in labor."

Consoled by his imaginings, he walked over to a mul-
lioned window overlooking the castle's innermost garden.
Gardeners were planting, trimming, pruning happily away.
It was the most pleasant aspect he had seen since they'd
arrived, so he watched for a long time, trying to put names
to the flowers and shrubs.

Close to the tower the garden was rather English in style:

large, free-form clumps of multicolored blooms, bordered
by other, lower flowering plants, casually trimmed and
trained. Grassy paths wandered among the beds and a tiny
brook rippled over stones and twinkled into a pool filled
with gold-colored fish.

Further off, beyond a low hedge, the gardens became
very formal, with geometric beds of flowers in solid colors,
separated by carefully aligned border plants from wide brick
paths. Shady alleys of trees were punctuated with square,
round, and oval pools and fountains. From a distance the
patterns hardly seemed to be living plants at all.

Rather like a Persian carpet, Tom thought to himself.

"Their Majesties will receive you now," came Walden's
voice just behind him. Tom jumped despite himself and
spun about to see the Chamberlain stalking toward the stair
without looking to see if they followed.

Clem shrugged his shoulders eloquently and fell in beside
his companion as he followed the Chamberlain up the stairs.

At the next level they were scrutinized carefully by six
heavily armed, silver-steel-armored guards. Walden paced
on to the next flight of stairs without giving so much as a
glance to the soldiers.

From somewhere above came soft music; strings and a
flute. The stairs here were carpeted with rich maroon and
gold pile. At the top of the flight another platoon of soldiers
stood stiffly at attention.

"This way, please. Don't dawdle!" admonished the Lord
Chamberlain. He stopped before a tall, double door with
polished copper and brass fittings. When the two visitors
stood beside him, he nodded to soldiers, who drew open
the doors on silent hinges.

234

DRAGON COMPANION         235

Don Callander

"Master Librarian Thomas Whitehead of Overhall! Mas-
ter Woodsman Clematis of Broken Land!" the Chamberlain

said in a loud, harsh voice.

He stepped back and disappeared, leaving the compan-
ions standing awkwardly in the royal doorway, staring at

the scene before them.

In a vast bed piled high with pillows and cushions of
pastel fabrics reclined a small, delicate, dark-haired woman
with skin almost as pale as the sheets upon which she lay.
Her hands fell limp to either side, palms up and helpless.
Under the thick coverings Tom could make out her swollen
figure. This was Queen Beatrix of Caroma.

Standing to the queen's right was a strikingly handsome
middle-aged man of just above medium height with close-
cropped gray hair. He wore a maroon uniform (that matched
the carpeting) and a brightly polished silver scabbard at his
side, a ceremonial sword whose hilt and pommel glittered
like a jeweler's showcase. His face was familiar. Tom had
seen it in portraits hanging at Overhall, and stamped on
golden vols—and in the features of Princess Royal Alix
Amanda, this man's daughter. This was Eduard Ten, King

of Carolna.

Tom also saw, beneath the maroon velvet, the silver, and

jewels, a worried, care-haggard husband.

"Welcome to Sweetwater Tower," Eduard Ten said in a
clear, pleasant voice with bass undertones that surprised
Tom, for the man was rather too slight for such a tim-
bre.

"Thank you. Your Majesty!" they replied together, bow-
ing from the waist.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"We bear a letter to Your Majesty," the Librarian said
quickly, trying to sound at ease and confident, "from your
loyal servant and friend, the Historian Murdan of Overhall.
And we bring his personal, spoken greetings and good

wishes as well."

The king took a step forward and held out his hand, so
Tom plucked Murdan's letter from his inner coat pocket

and laid it in the royal palm.

"Thank you!" said the king. He glanced at the superscrip-
tion and for the first time smiled, ever so faintly. "You are,
I believe, Murdan's Librarian?"

"Yes, sire. I am Thomas. May I say it is a great pleasure
to meet you."

"And a pleasure to me, also. My daughter has written to
me of you. Master Thomas."

"I knew she intended to," said Tom, blushing crimson
under the king's level gaze. "I hope she would. .. well,
be complimentary, I guess is what I mean .. . but not just
complimentary. Approving?"

The king laughed and the sudden sound in this somber
place was like the pealing of large, well-cast bells.

"She was both approving and very complimentary," said
the queen. Tom turned to her in surprise, having almost
forgotten she was there until she spoke. Now she smiled
wanly at him and nodded to her husband.

"May I present my wife? Her Majesty, Queen Bea-
trix. ..."

"I... I... I'm truly honored, ma'am!" said the Librar-
ian, stammering in spite of his resolution to seem bold and
confident. The lady on the bed was really very beautiful,
if much too sickly pale.

"This is my companion and good friend. Clematis of
Broken Land," Tom went on quickly. "He claims no title
but that of freeman of Carolna."

"We are ever deeply grateful for our freemen," said
Eduard, nodding warmly to Clem. "Where we would be
without their support and love, I don't dare imagine!"

Clem made polite, confused, pleased noises and bowed
again to the royal pair. Eduard and Beatrix smiled at his
bluff good looks and country manner.

"Please, take chairs here," the king impulsively invited.
"Under normal circumstances, at this time of the year, I
meet friends in the garden, but.. ."

"I was just admiring your beautiful gardens, sire," said
Tom. "I've not had a garden of my own since I was a child,
having lived mostly in places where it was impractical."

Gardens provided all four with a common subject on
which to converse while they warmed to each other.

"I plant herbs and flowers as well as green and yellow
vegetables in my own plot beside my cabin in the Broken
Land," Clem told the king. "I live pretty much alone, so it's
pleasant to have bright colors about when you work, not to
mention the aromas. Besides, sire, some of the flowers are

DRAGON COMPANION

237

236               Don Callander

also herbs—and some of the herbs are flowers!"

"Where I grew up," said Queen Beatrix, showing more
animation and a bit of color as she joined in the conver-
sation, "my mother had the most splendid garden anyone
had ever seen. You remember it, Eduard? She worked in it
every morning before it got too hot, and sometimes in the

evenings. I wish . . ."

She didn't say what she wished but said it with such

wistfulness that Tom leaped to the realization that she
missed being out of doors, in a garden, free of artificial
restrictions. The queen had been a child of open places and
wide waters. No wonder she was unhappy here, even to the

point of sickness!

"What did your mother grow?" he asked, as it seemed

to please her to remember her mother's garden.

"All sorts of flowers. Some that won't grow this far
north, but many were the same as the ones our gardeners

grow here."

She described the green shrubs and the herbs in her

mother's garden, as well as the flowers her mother lovingly
cut, arranged in vases, and put everywhere about the big
Knollwater manor house. Then she spoke of the vegetables,
especially fresh, sweet corn, green beans and yellow beans,
and peppers of dark green, yellow, orange and bright red,

both hot and sweet.

"And, oh! Tomatoes! Big, red, juicy, wonderful toma-
toes. How I miss them!"

"Tomatoes grow in the north!" injected Clem. "I always

had two or three rows just for myself, to home. They do

wonders for a stew, ma'am!"

The queen looked forlorn, somehow both elated and

saddened by the thought. The king hastened to explain.

"My Northerners have the idea in their heads that toma-
toes are poisonous," he said.

"Who is that, sir?" asked Tom.

"Oh, the people of the northeast. Never grow tomatoes,

they say! They ruin the soil! Never eat tomatoes! I grew up
near Lexor and never tasted one until I visited Knollwater,
the time I first met my wife. And I loved them, and her, at

once!"

The queen blushed prettily and gave her husband a radi-
ant smile.

"I would think," Tom said, boldly, "that a Queen could
insist on having tomatoes on her table any time she wished."

"It's not easy to get your royal way, despite all the so-
called privileges and powers," sighed the king. "Getting a
bunch of local cooks to serve tomatoes is like trying to get
blood from a turnip! I do believe I'd have to hang a few of
them before they'd agree to serve a tomato, let alone cook

with one!"

"Sorry if I speak out of turn," cried an indignant Clem,
"but I think you should hang a few of them, for the good
of the kingdom! Tomatoes are good for one, beside being
tasty and cheerful to the eye as well!"

"I never thought of them as being cheerful," exclaimed
Beatrix, beaming at Clem. "What a marvelous thought!

They're cheerful!"

The king began to plan a garden for Tom, even though,
as he said, they had no idea where it might be, as Tom had
no land of his own. Clem and the queen added their ideas
and soon they were, heads together, laughing and talking,
interrupting each other to add some new flower or fruit,
forgetting the stuffy formalities and protocols of a royal
audience.

"Ahem!" said a new voice.

They looked up in surprise to find the Lord Chamberlain
in the doorway, looking extremely upset to see the young
woodsman perched on the side of the royal bed extolling
his mother's recipe for rhubarb-and-strawberry pie.

"Majesty! May I remind you that you are to lunch with
the Dowager Duchess of Corently," Walden intoned with-
out expression. Tom happened to be looking at the queen
when the chamberlain spoke and was shocked to see all the
animation and color drain suddenly from her face. She sank
back weakly into her pillow.

The king saw it, too, and he spoke sharply to his pompous

servant.

"Tell the Duchess of Corently that I am indisposed and
will ask her to lunch another fame," Eduard ordered sharply.

"My dear!" cried the queen in a small voice. "You

mustn't!"

"Nonsense! The Dowager Duchess is a crashing bore.
I'd much rather sit here with you and talk about flowers
and summertime and weddings and things like that," the

238

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

239

king insisted. "Go tell her, Walden. And have lunch for

four sent up."

The Chamberlain paled, aghast at the way the royal audi-
ence was progressing. Not at all according to his ancient
ideas of protocol.

Said Eduard, "Anything special you'd like for lunch, my
dear? Gentlemen?"

The queen shook her head weakly and closed her sad
green eyes.

"Whatever's available," Clem said offhandedly.

"Well, I'd like a tomato, nice and ripe, sliced thick, with
salt and lots of pepper, some soft cheese, and a sprig or two
of basil," said Tom, inspired by a thought of the queen's
happy memories. "Dress it all with olive oil and vinegar,

please."

The Lord Chamberlain's chins all fell to his chest. He
took on a stomachachy look, a little green about the jowls.
It wasn't lost on the queen, who sat up, smiling again.

"Tomatoes!" Walden gasped. "But... good sir ... to-
matoes are rank poison!"

"Nevertheless," Eduard insisted, an edge of flint to his
voice, "my guest has asked for tomatoes and it would be
a blot on the royal honor if he were to be refused."

"But, sire. Your Majesty ..." For the first time Walden
seemed at a loss for dignity and words. "Tomatoes! I'm not
at all sure we have any."

"Then get some," growled the king. "And report to me if
my cooks can't find any nearby. Send away to Waterfields
for them. I may send away to Knollwater for their cooks,
too, tell them. Now, bring lunch!"

The queen was sitting straight up in her bed, gazing at
her husband with a pleased and surprised expression. When
the Chamberlain had withdrawn to see about tomatoes and
lunch, she gleefully clapped her hands.

"My love," she said to the king, tenderly, "I have just
had the most pleasant moment since coming to Sweetwater
Tower. The way you spoke to that awful butler about toma-
toes and made him jump . .. !"

"Chamberlain, not butler, my dear," prompted the king
with a broad smile.

"Oh, Chamberlain, then! You made him buckle down
and . .. and listen to you instead of always telling you what

to do and say and think! I loved it!"

She gave him an impulsive hug and her eyes crinkled
with suppressed laughter. The king bent down to kiss her
on both cheeks, chuckling himself with pleasure to see her
so lively once again.

"So I did! Well! I must do it more often. Do you think
he can find any tomatoes?"

"He may have trouble, but keep after him about them,"
said Tom. "I think a large part of Walden's problem is he
doesn't have enough to do. He has all those underlings who
do everything for him."

"You may be right," said Eduard thoughtfully. "It might
also be said of us, my dear. We decide things, we order
things done, but we don't do very much."

"I'm sure of it, husband! Now, what could we do to
change, I wonder."

"I am beginning to get some ideas," said Eduard, winking
at Tom and Clem.

OVER a really fine lunch—no tomatoes; Walden almost
wept when he had to report it—talk turned to Murdan
the Historian. The king took a moment to read the letter
Tom had brought. When he put it down he turned to the
Librarian to ask him about the kidnapping.

"I don't know if I should speak about it before Freddie
Brevory's trial," demurred Tom. "You'll need to make an
unbiased judgment based on the evidence, won't you?"

"That's truly remarkable!" cried the king. "Most men
would give half of all they possess to influence me before
I hear a case in Session."

"I don't think that's the way to obtain or dispense justice,
however," Tom responded. "I don't know what Murdan has
told you ..."

"Very little other than the bare facts," admitted Eduard.
"A great deal of anger and insult, as you'd expect. Murdan
agrees with your ideals about justice."

"So do you, Eduard," chimed in Beatrix. She'd called
maids and ladies-in-waiting to slip a sea blue dressing gown
over her rather dowdy nightdress and joined them at a table
set in a round turret comer in the sunniest part of her parlor.

Afternoon sunlight poured in. A plump-breasted, older
lady-in-waiting, a female Walden, drew the drapes, cutting

240

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

241

off the sun and the view of the gardens. King Eduard
stopped the woman with an abrupt gesture.

"Leave them open," he exclaimed sharply to the star-
tled woman. "Her Majesty prefers sunshine to darkness, I

believe."

"But the Lord Chamberlain said .. .," the large lady-
in-waiting squeaked, almost jumping out of her shoes in

fright.

"Chamberlains don't banish disobedient ladies to their

country seats," snapped the king. "Do as I say!"

"Yes, leave the curtains open. Lady Agnes!" said the
Queen in a kinder tone. "I haven't seen sunlight for weeks

and weeks."

"But Ma'am! The baby!" shrieked several of her ladies.

"A bit of sun never hurt a baby," said Tom. "Just the
opposite, I'm sure. A child raised in darkness would be

blighted, don't you think, sire?"

"No doubt about it!" cried the king happily. The queen
waved her attendants out, causing many unhappy backward

glances.

"More sunlight the better—well, at least within reason,"

said the king. "I remember when Alix Amanda.. . well,
Manda.. . eluded her nurses and played all afternoon in
the sand with a gatekeeper's son. Red as a beet she was! It
was all I could do to keep from howling with laughter."

"You should have howled, sire," said Clem. "It's good
for children to see their fathers and mothers howl with
laughter ... or anger. Provides a standard, you see. Teaches
'em what's right and what's wrong."

"I didn't know you knew so much about raising young-
sters," Tom teased his friend.

"I was one o'seven," Clem claimed. "That qualifies me

to have an opinion, at least."

"You know, I do believe you're right," said Beatrix.
"My father yelled at me when I deserved it. I listened well,
because it was so unusual for him to raise his voice."

"Which leads me to ask something I have been won-
dering, if you'll forgive my curiosity," Tom said to the

queen.

"I promise not to take offense. Librarian."
"Why are you abed on such a wonderfully sunny, warm

afternoon of midsummer?"

Beatrix glanced quickly at her husband and Eduard nod-
ded his head, ever so slightly.

"Well, to be frank. Librarian, you know I bear the royal
heir within?"

"I'm aware of that, yes," said Tom, trying not to laugh
at her quaint phrasing.

"My doctors tell me I must lie very quietly abed most of
the remaining days, so as not to harm myself or the child,
you see. So much depends on us!"

"Such a pity," sighed Tom, shaking his head.

The royal couple looked shocked.

"To put such a terrible burden on one not even born yet!"
Tom hastened to explain. "I feel sorry for the child as well
as its mother. Forgive me, but it's so."

The king nodded sadly. "I remember when I first real-
ized that I would have to bear the burden of a crown.
Many men would kill and kill again to hold a tiny cor-
ner of my burden. If they only knew what it was like
to have to bear it, willy-nilly, never to lay it down for a
minute!"

"Why do you do it, sire?" asked Clem.

"Well, it was my father's burden before me. I was pre-
pared to carry it from birth. Carolnans, not just the nobles
and magnates, but all the people, need a good king. Have
you ever read Carolnan history, young Clem?"

"No, sire. Oh, I've picked up bits and pieces here and
there."

"There have been wretched periods when Carolna had
bad kings, even wicked kings. Those were bad enough, but
the worst times came when we had no king at all! No law!
No justice! No safety in town or countryside! Every sort
of crime and evil perpetrated on innocents who could do
nothing about it, had no one to whom to appeal for redress
or rescue! If I can prevent some of that suffering, I'll be
king, no matter how painful. Wouldn't you?"

Tom nodded. "Under those conditions, yes, I'd submit
myself to being king. But—" '

"Young man, I've read my daughter's letters. Manda
writes to me as honestly and fearlessly as no one else
does. She says she'll have you as husband, no matter what
happens."

Tom said nothing, but nodded his head.

242

Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 243

"Life is filled with 'ifs,' " Eduard continued solemnly.
"If the child dies or is stillborn . .. ?"

"Oh, Eduard!" cried his wife, pressing her hands to her

mouth in horror.

"I'm as sorry as I can be, my dear, but it's true. If the:

child dies, and no other child is bom to us? If the child is
a girl? In all these cases, Manda will—unwillingly, I know,
but she will—wear the crown and sit upon the Trusslo
throne after I am gone. She'll be Alix Amanda Two, Queen
of Carolna. If you, Thomas, are her husband, you will share
her power and prestige—and her burdens, as well. Manda

would not want it otherwise!"

"We've spoken at length about this, sire," Tom assured
the king. "If Manda is called upon, I will be at her side and
do what is required. But I won't allow anyone—or anything
I can prevent—to hurt her under the guise of blind custom
or senseless regulation. Sometimes you have to break the

rules."

"Good for you!" cried Beatrix. "Like eating tomatoes?"
"Exactly! I may sound rather crass and green with youth,
but I feel I know better than anyone what makes Manda
happy. An unhappy king or queen makes an unhappy king-
dom."

"I think I hear an echo of criticism of myself in those

words," said the king, taken aback.

"No! Well, perhaps. I'm a stranger in your land, sire.
I'm not a doctor. Yet everything I've seen and read and
heard about babies—quite a bit, now that I think of it—
makes me believe that Her Majesty's is not a happy, healthy
pregnancy. I must believe it affects her health—and that of
her unborn, within!"

"I'm as happy as I expected to be," Beatrix protested.
"Eduard has worked very hard to make me so!"

"Not hard enough! You are far too pale, too weak! You're
too passive, both of you. Mothers to be, where I grew up,
were encouraged to walk in the sun, to keep their muscles
in tone and strong. Eat well and sleep well! To be clean and
happy and pleased to carry their burden. Are mothers here so
different? Or is it the advice of your doctors that is different?
Or are the motives of your doctors entirely unselfish?"

His last words descended like a wet, icy blanket over
the luncheon party. The queen reached out and clutched

the king's hand, and even Clem looked at his companion
with consternation.

"Y-y-you," stuttered the king, "you're suggesting that the
queen's physicians are . .. ?"

"No, of course not! I've no idea of such a thing. Probably
the doctor, like the Lord Chamberlain, is so terrified about
what would happen to him, if anything harmed the queen
or her baby, he's overly cautious to the point where even
I can see it's foolish!"

"But. . .," the king hesitated. "What can I do? I am not
a doctor, either."

"Filter the doctor's advice through your own common
sense. You've fathered a child—my Manda, bless her! She
was bom healthy and grew up as perfectly as any father
could ever wish! Remember your own youth. Who's to say
you can't guard your wife's health as sensibly as any doctor,
unless something totally out of the ordinary happens?"

"There is much in that," admitted the king. The queen
nodded, vigorously.

"Listen, Lord King! Here's another thing. I've seen very
well how Peter of Gantrell operates. He's entirely selfish.
Convinced of his own rightness and worthiness to rule, no
matter who gets hurt. My God! He kidnapped a young moth-
er with three innocent children and dragged them halfway
across the continent on horseback in an attempt to blackmail
Murdan!"

Tom rose and paced across the floor.

"Gantrell would suborn your trusted servants, your Cham-
berlain, your physician if he could. He doesn't want this
poor babe to be bom. He fears it will be a male and thus
incontestably your heir."

"He has the nerve and the selfishness to do it," agreed
Beatrix.

"Peter wants Manda to take the throne. He knows a lot of
notables will object to a queen alone or a queen married to a
stranger, someone from outside their tight circle. Librarian,"
said Eduard. "He gained legal guardianship because I was
grief stricken when Manda's mother died. What would
sound more reasonable to many if he were to be regent
when she takes the throne?"

"Thanks only to Manda's good sense and courage, his
plan of guardianship failed," put in the woodsman.

244

Don Callander

"He'll turn his wrath on me next," Tom plowed forward,
"as Manda's consort. He'll seek to poison her subjects
against me ... as he has so far managed to poison many
hearts with slanders against your queen!"

This cruel truth brought deep anguish to the king and his
queen. They sat holding hands and stared at each other for
a long while. Neither Tom nor Clem moved nor spoke.

"Well, my dear," said the king at last, "I see it! Do

you?"

"I'm only amazed that we didn't see it earlier. Why

should the common folks in the markets so hate me? Why
should my maids talk of us maliciously behind our backs?
Who begins the foul rumors about stillbirthing and about
foul spells and dire predictions?"

The king nodded. "But how to prove it!"

"Gantrell is behind it all, I'll stake my life on it," said
Tom, "but, no, we can't prove it. We can guard against
him, even counteract him, however."

"Yes, that we can do. We've the power as well as the
desire," said Eduard. "Will you help us, you and Clem?
You're both men of great common sense and uncommon

abilities, I've seen."

"Murdan sent us here to help," said Clem. "Both of us
would lay down our lives for you, sire, and for you and

your child, ma'am!"

"I don't deserve such devotion," said Beatrix, "but it

surely is comforting!"

"The first thing to do," Tom said, "is to get the queen some
outdoor exercise—nothing strenuous, but hearty enough to
bring the roses back that I suspect were in her cheeks when
you first met her, sire."

"I remember so well!" murmured Eduard.
"I propose," continued Tom, "that she do a little walking
abroad in this nice weather, for all to see. Who can hate a
beautiful, happy woman large with child? Some work in
the garden, maybe, when she is up to it. And tomatoes to
eat. Tomatoes are very important!"

THEY did it in many nice and quiet ways.

First to fall was the Lord Chamberlain. Walden was no
creature of Gantrell. The king and the queen—and the
two young newcomers—lightly teased the too-dignified old

DRAGON COMPANION

245

man until he was near to showing anger, then loved him
until he glowed, and then trusted him until he would do
anything in the world for them, without a hesitation, even
if it was illegal, immoral, fattening . . . and even if it were
against cherished custom!

The queen soon called for a summer frock and a broad-
brimmed garden hat and spent a half hour, much longer than
anyone would have expected, conferring with the gardeners.
Those worthies, who had grumbled that their hard work
went unappreciated, at once became her most devoted sub-
jects. She noticed what they accomplished in their gardens
and praised them extravagantly for it.

They found to their delight she knew and loved gardening,
flowers, vegetables, pruning, mulching, planting, hoeing,
weeding, even plucking off leaf-devouring insects .. . how
many fine ladies, they told their wives, got down on their
tender knees, middles ungainly with child, to pick striped
beetles off thorny roses?

The merchants who came to sell their produce to the
royal kitchens were asked for red, ripe tomatoes.

"To eat?" they cried. "Tomatoes to eat! Me grandma
told me tomatoes were certain death. We never eat toma-
toes!"

When a scullery lad let slip that it was the lady queen
herself who doted on ripe, red tomatoes, the shock turned
to wondering murmurs. A delegation of weavers asked to
address a petition to the king and used the occasion to tell
him that someone was trying to poison the queen with
deadly tomatoes!

"My good, dear, clever craftsmen!" the king said, shaking
his head. "Haven't you heard the latest medical advice?
Tomatoes are good for you! We should all eat at least
one a day when they're in season, which is all summer,
as you may not know. Try 'em on salad, or lay them atop
a slide of beef or chicken or veal. We eat tomatoes every
day, when we can get 'em, and they've made us feel like
new persons!"

The evidence was before them to see—a robust, merry
king and a glowing, laughing, pregnant queen. The weavers
went home and spread the word. The king and the beautiful
young queen ate tomatoes raw in salads, stewed or broiled,
even in sauces on their meat!

246

DRAGON COMPANION         247

Don Callander

FALLMAR of Ffallmar hailed a neighbor on the way home
from Lakehead who stopped to pass the time of day and

share the latest news.

Lady pirates were no longer the news, said the farmer,

chuckling. What was important was . . . tomaters!

"Tomaters!" laughed Ffallmar. "Those red things my wife
grows down by the pigsty? She makes a cough medicine for
winter from them, but I never have touched one myself."

"They tell me the royal court has sent orders to all ends
of the kingdom to buy all the tomaters can be found, at
almost any price. Everybody's eating them! They say the
queen and even the king eat 'em every day."

"And the queen with child!" cried Rosemary when she

heard of it.

"The Lakeheaders told our neighbor the queen was sick

near to death but someone got her to eat tomaters and
she's fit as a fiddle with the new baby due any moment.
They expect him to pop out and dance a royal jig for

her!"

"Now, I may be a gullible ninny, but I don't believe

that!" cried Rosemary. "Still... tomaters? I have always
been secretly fond of them. They just might be good for

you, you know."

Ffallmar threw his head back and laughed, long and loud.
But he and his children ate red tomatoes for supper that
very night. And the next day he sent off two mule loads
of Rosemary's best late tomatoes to Lakehead for fastest
shipment to Sweetwater Tower.

TOM and King Eduard had a serious and often heated
interview with Dr. Flabianus, the Queen's chief physician.

"Tomatoes, fine!" said the doctor, a short, fat man with
a cherubic expression and not-too-clean fingernails. "But
exercise? No, no! She should remain in bed, I insist."

"What do you fear? If she does not stay abed?" asked

Tom politely.

"Well, the obvious! Any shock! A bump or a fall! I
cannot be responsible for her health and that of the child
if she insists on weeding in a garden!"

"The good doctor fears my wrath, is that what it is?" the

king asked of Tom.

"One suspects that's one of his concerns. Even a blind
man should be able to see the queen is already healthier for
her daily walks, her gardening, and for meeting and talking
to people."

"I have to agree with my Librarian there," the king said
to Flabianus. "I see clear signs of better health in the queen
that were absent before. Her eyes sparkle again. She laughs
easily and often, Her cheeks are rosy with sun and wind
and she delights in her new friends. She talks with a lilt I
haven't heard since I brought her here. She's eager in her
anticipation of the child and takes an active interest in the
preparations for him—or her. What do you answer to these,
Doctor?"

The learned physician wasn't blind or stupid, either. He
rubbed his hands together briskly and carefully smiled from
ear to ear before answering.

"I agree, sire, that Her Majesty is much improved. Per-
haps it is the change in regimen; who knows? It's certainly
worth continuing. Ah, under my watchful eye, of course."

Tom drew the physician closer to say, "All the kingdom
watches the queen and sees her improvement. The credit
will ultimately go to you. Doctor. Lesser physicians would
pay handsomely to leam your methods. You could become
a wealthy man, I should think."

"I... I hadn't thought of that. Master Librarian. Inter-
esting! Do you have any further advice for me in this
matter?"

"Yes," said Tom, pointing. "Wash your hands at least
four times a day and scrape your fingernails, especially
before you examine the queen!"

The physician became bright red with embarrassment,
spluttering, "Actually, they're dirty because I was work-
ing in my new garden this morning when the king sent
for me."

He wondered why the Librarian found his new interest
in gardening so very funny.

DRAGON COMPANION         249

:<22^
Outcomes and Departures

IT begins to appear, wrote Tom to Amanda, that your
new stepbrother or -sister will arrive at about the same
time you do, sweet princess. The doctor, his eyes opened
to the miracles of fresh air and clean fingernails, esti-
mates as much.

HE paused to dip his pen. He was alone in his huge apart-
ment in early afternoon. The weather outside was blustery,
with a'dark gray autumn fog rolling in from the ocean in

great, slow billows.

Clem, bored with waiting for the royal birthing and Fall
Session in Lexor, had jumped at the chance to travel west
to escort the Historian's party to the capital in two weeks'
time. Tom himself was busy and happy setting the Royal
Library in order—it was almost as neglected as Murdan's—
and training four bright young people to continue the work

when he returned to Overhall.

In addition, he sat with the queen on days when she
couldn't go outside, and on fine days worked with her in
the garden or went with her into Lexor to shop or attend
a rash of birthing parties given by her new friends of both

high and low station.

She was a picture of happy well-being and, in her own

words, as "big as a keep!"

I spend my days enjoying the company of the queen
and the king, or at my work, or in the depths of missing
you, Manda. This place needs your touch to make it the
pleasant house it should be, for your father and your
stepmother and their baby, too.

We refer to the child as "it," as if we hope to avoid
influencing, either way, the sex of the newborn—which

248

is nonsense. The sex of an unborn, I have read, is deter-
mined at conception, not at birth. I have trouble con-
vincing anyone of it.

RETRUANCE had been sent to the northeast frontier to inspect
the Frontier Guard. There were rumors of Barbarian tribes
moving southwest toward Carolna. The presence of the
Dragon would warn them away, the king felt.

So, I am alone and lonely, despite the good friends I've
made. The best of them is your father, the king (now I'm
saying it— "your father, the king "!). I spend anywhere
from an hour to a half day with him each day, talking
of books and Dragons and babies, and daughters and
weddings. No, we aren 't making any plans without you,
bride-to-be! We just talk about it and enjoy each other's
company.

As for the queen, I love her dearly! For all her appar-
ent frailty, she has shown she has grit and spunk! (I'll
explain those to you later, dearest.) I can easily see why
she was so instantly loved by your father. He was sure, he
tells me, that he would never love another after your lady
mother. Years later he happened to travel in Waterfields
and there met Beatrix of Knollwater.

Was it shallowness that he fell headlong in love with
Beatrix? Of course not! Both loves were, in their time
and place, sincere, strong, good, clear, and deep.

HE stopped to reread his last paragraph and to think of what
he had said.

I've seen no sign in you of jealousy or resentment toward
your parents, although I understand that such circum-
stances sometimes call forth these unreasoning, unworthy
emotions. I know you very well, dear heart, and I tell you
sincerely there is only one person more fortunate than
you. Me.

HE added several more lines, the kind of silly, yet neces-
sary, nonsense that lovers always put in love letters, and
signed his name with a flourish unknown at the Library of
Congress.

250 Don Callander

"Two pigeons' worth," he decided, weighing the letter in
his hand. He went to a rear window in his dressing room,
one that faced an interior courtyard where laundry maids
hung linens to dry and blankets to air on clear days. Raising
the sash, he called to a flock of pigeons in their cott under
the castle eaves.

"On your way," said Tom after fitting each half of his
letter into the carrying tubes of two birds. "I wish I could
go with you."

"If you did," said a voice nearby, "I'd wager that would
be the very night the baby is born!"

"Retruance! Come around to the front so you can put
your ugly head inside. Welcome back! What news?"

"The Barbarians made a fast about-face and headed back
to their fastness," said the Dragon. He slid his head through
an enlarged front window and rested it on the sitting-room
carpet. "Whew! What a trip! This storm's one of the more
gusty ones I've known. Don't expect your letter to get to
Overhall as quickly as usual. Your pigeons'11 be heading
right into it."

"Have you seen the King yet? He'll be relieved to hear
the Barbarians have withdrawn from the frontier. It has
preoccupied him of late."

"I'm on my way and stopped only to tell you I'm back,"
said Retruance. "Ah, well, duty calls!"

As he snaked his head out of the window again, careful-
ly avoiding several priceless antiques, Tom called, "Come
back and have dinner with me. A good night for sitting
before a fire and talking!"

"I suppose," sighed the beast. "Even if one of us has to sit
outside and get wetter and wetter and colder and colder!"

But the Librarian had returned to his work.

A WAIL sounded faintly through the central tower halls and
down the winding stair. The king and Tom, who had been
playing cribbage on the comer of a table the size of a tennis
court, jerked bolt upright. The clock showed half past two
in the storm-tossed morning.

"What do I hear?" cried the king, throwing down his
cards.

A second cry sounded, faint but strong enough to be
heard over the rush of the wind.

DRAGON COMPANION         251

"Shall we go up?" asked the anxious royal father.
"Who's to say nay?" cried Tom, leaping to his feet.
"You're the king and I'm the godfather!"

They rushed up the broad stairway to the third level,
where they were met by an out-of-breath Walden, bal-
ancing a bowl of steaming water and an armful of tow-
els.

"Dr. Flabianus sent me for more water!" he puffed. "Why,
I can't imagine."

"To get you out of the way," guessed the king, grabbing
the towels from him as they seemed about to slip to the
floor. "Come along! We'll soon find out."

They rounded the end of an ornate carved screen that
closed off the entrance to the queen's bedchamber. Beside
her huge bed, the queen's physician stood watching while
four experienced, middle-aged ladies-in-waiting worked
feverishly over something tiny and squirming. The men
caught a thankful glimpse of a pale but smiling Beatrix
amid piled-up pillows.

"Your Majesty!" Flabianus cheerily greeted them. "Safe-
ly delivered with little discomfort to my patient, I'm proud
to say!"

"The queen is well?" demanded Eduard anxiously. He
rushed to one side of the bed and took Beatrix's tiny hand
in his own. "Yes, she smiles, still the picture of good spirits
and health, Tom!"

Tom walked to the far side of the bed where the ladies
were drying a child after its—her—first bath. She had
ceased her crying and slept.

"A girl, sire!" Tom announced gleefully. "A beautiful
little princess!"

Then, in complete surprise, he looked at another new-
bom, laid on the counterpane, his legs kicking and his arms
flailing, red and wrinkled and beautiful.

"And a boy, too!" Plabianus puffed proudly, as if he took
full credit. "A manly little Prince Royal!"

"What?" cried Eduard, lifting his gaze from his wife to
the Librarian.

Tom nodded. Beatrix giggled. Dr. Flabianus chuckled
and the nurses managed to look both harried and proud.

"Twins!" cried the king of Carolna. "My God! One of
each! A boy and a girl?"

252

DRAGON COMPANION         253

Don Callander

"Beautiful and wonderful!" exclaimed Tom. "Beatrix,
loveliest of queens, you did your husband and your king-
dom proud tonight."

"Not just tonight," said Eduard, leaning over to kiss his

wife on the brow. "Always!"

When things had settled down somewhat and Walden had
shot off to post the double birth announcement and send
riders into the capital with the news, Tom, the king, and
the queen watched the two tiny babes, sleeping peacefully
after their first dinner of mother's milk.

"We'll have to order a second cradle," said their ecstatic
father. "But for now they look like angels together like

that."

"Well, my dears, I am tired but not nearly as tired as I
thought I'd be. Do you know, when I realized that I was
about to deliver a second child, a strange thought came
unbidden to me? It still bothers me, but not very much."

"What is it?" asked her doting husband.

Beatrix frowned a little frown and closed her eyes. "What
will Peter of Gantrell do now?"

"Damn Gantrell! If I only knew," exclaimed King Eduard.
"Don't worry about it, however. Tom, Murdan, and I will
be thinking about it as soon as we get our breaths."

The queen smiled, nodded confidently, and fell asleep

still smiling.

"He will, even more now than before, seek to put Manda
on the throne, she being my eldest child," King Eduard
stated firmly.

IT was later that morning, in the king's study.

"The boy Ednoll was the first of the two. If anything
happens to me, Murdan will be his regent, of course, until
he reaches twenty years. I'll make a binding decree to that
during Fall Session. And you are to assist him, Tom. You
and Manda, both."

"I'm honored," Tom said simply, "as Manda will be,
also, I know. But that may never be necessary."

"I know and hope so, but we kings must plan for all
contingencies if we can. Someday the boy will be king in

my place."

"It will take a great load off Manda's mind," Tom said.

"And put one on Gantrell's," the king agreed, looking
worried again. "What will he do?"

"I want your permission to take Retruance and fly to
Overhall, at top speed," said Tom. "The Historian must
leam of this twin birth before Gantrell, who is at his seat
in Override, I hear."

"I agree. Ask Murdan to return with you. We must
anticipate what our enemy will do and prepare for it. My
imagination is filled with gambits Gantrell might spring
on us."

"I'm off!"

King Eduard Ten saw the Overhall Librarian off on
his flight. Companion and Dragon hurtling into the dark
sky, accompanied by bolts of lightning and tremendous
thunderclaps.

^:23^
Snow Time

"OVERHALL looks different somehow," said Retruance.

They'd flown very high, where the winds were less tur-
bulent. Tom shivered, clothed though he was in woolens
and warmed by the Dragon's heat. Overhall was a mere
speck in the foothills of the Snow Mountains below.

"What do you see?" asked Tom.

"Nothing . . . and that's what's strange," replied the Dra-
gon, warping his great leathery wings to begin a spiral
descent. "No flags flying, for one thing. Nobody abroad
and it's midaftemoon. I don't even see guards on the battle-
ments, and that's not like Graham at all."

Tom peered worriedly over the Dragon's nose but they
were still too high for him to make out details.

"Maybe it's just this sudden cold," he suggested. "Every-
body's keeping indoors."

The Dragon snorted impatiently and plummeted toward
the castle. Tom clutched the saddle's pommel with one

254

Don Callander

hand and his knit cap with the other. The wind shrieked
past his cold-bumed ears and brought tears to his eyes.

The beast dived straight for Foretower, pulling up abrupt-
ly at the last moment, his wings booming and echoing
between the stone walls. No guards called out challenge or
greeting. No stableboys came running to help the Librar-
ian dismount. The windows of the three soaring towers
were slitted, empty eyes, seeing nothing. In spite of the
chill, there was no smoke from any of the castle's myriad
chimneys.

"Hello!" roared the Dragon as Tom slid to the frozen
ground of the outer bailey. "Is anybody home?"

Echoes and silence . .. except for the icy mutter of

Gugglerun in its channel.

"Even if Murdan's already left for Lexor," Tom said,
heading for the Great Hall at a run, "somebody should be

here!"

"Foul play!" muttered Retruance in a gush of blue-white
flame. "Something's badly amiss, Tom!"

The Librarian tugged Great Hall's door open and rushed
in. The hall was empty and still, as cold as the outside, its
four fires extinguished. He circled the huge room, looking
for any signs of the residents. Nothing appeared out of place
or out of ordinary, save a total lack of occupants.

"I'll check the other towers," said Retruance, who had
stuck his head through the door to watch. He dashed through
the gate into the middle bailey, shouting hello in a voice that

shook the stones.

In the empty courtyard Tom stopped to look about, listen,
and think. A door to the guard's barracks against the far
wall swung in a sudden gust of wind and banged loudly
against its stop. Tom ran that way, drawing his sword as

he went.

Inside, the scene was horrifying. Twelve soldiers lay in

their bunks, either dead or deeply unconscious.
"My God!" Tom gasped. "Retruance! Come here!"
The Dragon's eye appeared in the open barracks door.

He took in the scene at a glance.

"They're not dead," he declared. "Enchanted, I think."
"Frozen stiff!" cried Toni. "Look! They're blue from

the cold."

DRAGON COMPANION         255

"There's magic here. Companion," breathed Retruance.
"I can feel it!"

Tom stood very still and it came to him at once, a tingling
in the air, a twisting vibration, like the faintest echo of
distant, derisive laughter.

"I-I-I can feel it, too," he said, shivering. "Gantrell's
work, do you think?"

"Not Gantrell himself, perhaps, but someone, some magi-
cian or wizard, paid to do this. By Lord Peter, of course,
who else? But why?"

"Manda!" cried Tom.

"She's not there," Retruance said, quickly. "From the
looks of her rooms, she packed up and left before the spell
was cast."

"Thank God!" the Librarian sputtered. "How about
Murdan?"

He climbed to the Historian's quarters in Foretower and
found everything in order there, too. Murdan's best court
clothes and his satchels and trunks were gone.

The Dragon hurriedly inspected the other living quarters
in the castle. He found the entire household as frozen in
enchanted sleep as the soldiers: the cooks, scullery boys,
blacksmith, hostler, saddler, carpenters, and charwomen,
everyone who would have been left behind.

"The Historian and Princess Manda left for Lexor before
whatever happened, happened," decided Tom, somewhat
relieved. "They're somewhere on the road."

"They'll have gone by way of Sprend and Ffallmar Farm
and on to Lakehead, then," said Retruance. "We flew too
high and missed them. Their entourage would be large,
especially with half the guard going with them. Fifty or
so, I would expect."

"What's to do?" asked the distraught Librarian. "I can't
think!"

He returned to the Great Hall and laid a fire in one of the
fireplaces. Retruance, squeezing through the doors, set the
kindling afire with a puff and in a few minutes the place
began to recover some of its normal warmth—but none of
its accustomed cheeriness.

"I'll see if I can find something to eat," decided Tom.
"We'll both think better on full stomachs."

256

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

257

He lighted a pine-pitch torch and went to the kitchens,
searching until he found a baked ham, some loaves of
bread . .. and a frozen cook sitting slumped beside a cold
range where the spell had caught him taking a midmoming

nap.

He tried to slice the ham but found it, too, was frozen
hard as stone. Putting it under his arm, and several loaves
of bread under the other and a crock of mustard in his
pocket, he hurried back to Great Hall. A blast of Dragon's
hot breath thawed the meat and bread enough to cut and the
two made a quick, lonely meal.

Retruance flew off, saying he wanted to check further
afield. He returned after dark, as the Librarian was rolling
himself in two woolen blankets on a bearskin rug before
the fire.

"You'd be warmer in a smaller room," the Dragon sug-
gested.

"Now that you're back, this is where I'll stay," Tom said,
sleepily yawning. "Sorry! This warmth after being so cold
makes me drowsy. What did you find out?"

The Dragon crept entirely into Great Hall, almost filling
it and raising the temperature by forty degrees.

"I flew to Ffallmar, of course," he said. "Ffallmar and
Rosemary are still there. They'll go to Lexor in a week or
less, depending on their harvesting. Murdan, Manda, and
their people, forty in all counting the soldiers and Freddie
the prisoner, stopped overnight with them three days ago.
Clem was with them."

"Thank goodness!" cried Tom. "They're safe then!"

"Wait! Ffallmar had word from our friend the dove seller,
in Lakehead. The message said all the lake ships had been
hauled ashore because of the coming storm."

"He'd seen Murdan?"

"Yes, Murdan reached Lakehead and then went on by the
North Shore road when he found no captains willing to risk
the storm."

Tom thought this over. The Dragon went on.

"It was getting dark by then and beginning to snow, so
I came back to tell you what I'd learned."

"We'd better get some sleep, I guess," said the Librarian,
sighing. "And start out early in the morning."

He punctuated his remark with another great yawn. The

bed he'd made before the fire was cozy and he'd been in
the cold wind all day. In a moment he was sound asleep.

The Dragon tried to sleep, too, but Great Hall was stuffy
with his own heat. He wormed his way out and toured the
whole castle once again. Everywhere he found the Histo-
rian's retainers and staff in the deep, enchanted sleep, in
their rooms or at the tasks they had been doing when the
spell had been cast over them.

By carefully inserting his head and long, supple neck
into the windowless basement of Middletower, he found
Mistress Plume asleep in her frosty bed, but alone. The
sour-faced comptroller himself was nowhere to be found.
Surprising, as Murdan had said he would not take Plume
to Lexor for Session as he had in the past.

'THAT slimy, sneaky old ingrate!" cried Tom upon wak-
ing the next morning. "Plume was selling our secrets to
Gantrell. He was the one who let the Mercenary Knights
into Overhall! We should have locked the double-dealing
old pencil-chewer in Aftertower!"

"Be that as it may, we've other problems just now,"
said Retruance. "It's been snowing hard all night, as the
lake men predicted. If we fly to Lakehead and along the
lakeshore road, we might find them. But their tracks will
be covered by the snow!"

"Worse luck!" exclaimed Tom. He heated slices of the
ham and made some toast and tea. "Can we do anything for
these poor people?"

"We'd better leave them as they are until we can send a
skilled wizard to undo the spell. Arcolas is with Murdan, of
course. I'll get word to someone I know who owes Murdan
a favor. He'll come as soon as the roads are open. In the
meantime, they'll be safe enough behind barred gates."

The temperature had dropped even lower arid snow still
fell in huge, soft flakes, blotting out all sight and most
sounds.

"I've brought you a warmer cloak and your warm
Ramhold boots from your wardrobe," the Dragon added.

"You're one of nature's kindest creatures!" exclaimed
Tom in gratitude, pulling on the lamb's-wool-lined over-
boots given him by Talber of Ramhold that spring morning
long ago.

Don Callander

258

"Not to Gantrell!" snarled the huge flier. "When I catch
that blackguard I'll char him completely and stomp his ashes
into the soil as fertilizer!"

"Well enough, but we've got to find Murdan and Manda
and the rest first. Then I'll help you char and stomp. Let's
go see if we can find their trail along the lake."

They flew fast and high, over Sprend and Ffallmar Farm
early in the morning, without stopping—"No need to worry
them, just yet," Tom decided—and by noon they passed
over a Lakehead buried in enough snow to cover more
than a man's height. Only thin streams of blue smoke from
smooth, white mounds marked the town at the head of the
lake. The lake itself was a glassy expanse of windswept ice
across which billows of blown snow drifted, twisted, and

swirled.

Retruance flew almost at the tops of the drifted snow-
banks, following the faint trace of the shore outlined by
the water-edge pines. He and his rider peered down at the
glaring white snow, but saw no sign of the passage-two
days before of a party of forty.

After a while, Tom complained that the glare on the
snow was giving him a headache, so the Dragon swooped
down into the lee of a particularly thick stand of ship-mast
pines. Tom ate cold ham and dry bread, and drank handfuls
of snow. Retruance fanned his immense wings back and
forth, sweeping the loose snow in a wide swatch across the

shore road.

"Here's the road, I believe," he called after fifteen min-
utes' hard work. "Just a path, really. The ground was soft
before it froze, and look! There are hoofprints."

"Wish we had Clem with us," cried Tom, running over
to where the Dragon had stopped blowing snow. "He'd
know at a glance if the prints are those of our people,

or not."

"Let's see," pondered Retruance. "They came at least
this far before the snow started in earnest, I figure. As the
weather got worse, they probably found a sheltered place to
camp. Clem would certainly know to stop before the snow
got too deep even for the horses."

"Cold comfort," said Tom, discouraged. A clot of snow
as large as a wagon suddenly slid from an overhanging
bough and dropped to the frozen ground with a loud plump,

DRAGON COMPANION         259

making them both jump in alarm. "Is it getting warmer,
do you think? Will it get warmer? This is pretty early

in the year for such a bad storm, isn't it? It isn't even
October yet."

"I'd say so," the Dragon said doubtfully. "I never pay

much attention to weather, being able to fly over it, usu-
ally."

They sat on a bed of needles under the pines, where the
ground was clear. "Lakehead will be hours digging out,
even if I helped them with the old wings or a few blasts
of fire breath," declared the Dragon.

"Yes, otherwise we could expect Mayor Fellows, a good
sort for all of being a Gantrell man, to organize a search,"
said Tom.

"With a change of weather for the better, Ffallmar could
muster all the farmers to form searching parties, too. If we
flew back to Sweetwater Tower, the king would do the
same. But none of that does any good until the snow stops
and it gets warmer."

"We can't afford to wait! Retruance, this storm was
just too convenient. Murdan says Gantrell can afford to
buy the best wizards and most effective magic. This snow
and the sleeping spell at Overhall add up to expensive
enchanting."

Retruance nodded sober agreement.

"Gantrell's captured the two people he most wants to
miss Session, and rescued Freddie the Sponge, too. Freddie
is not the least of Peter's concerns, even the king agrees.
He said the kidnapper's trial would greatly weaken Peter's
influence over the undecided nobles and even many of his
friends."

"Let me guess," said Retruance, stroking his chin thought-
fully. "Gantrell'will maintain the queen and Murdan con-
spired, captured Manda to keep her from declaring for her
Uncle Peter at Fall Session. The king cannot hear the case
of Brevory because key witnesses are missing. The king
will be forced to bow to the demands of Gantrell and
his cronies that a suitable guardian be appointed to care
for little Prince Ednoll, as they did Manda. Who better
for guardian than kindly, wise, rich old Uncle Peter? If
needed, Gantrell can force Eduard with threats of harm to
Manda."

260               Don Callander

"Whew!" exclaimed Tom. "What a mess!"
"Well, what's to do, now?" the Dragon sighed.
"We can't possibly track the captors in this stuff. We
must go directly to the one person who knows where our

people are."

"You mean, go to . .."

"Exactly! To Gantrell and somehow force him or trick
him him into revealing where he's hiding Manda, the His-
torian, and Clem."

"I'll go with you."
"No, this calls for stealth. A fifty-foot Dragon can't go

sneaking about without being seen."

"I suppose I could shrink myself again."

"I need your speed more. See to it that Rosemary gets
safely to Lexor. Remember, she's the real key witness. And
ask the king to delay the trial as long as possible."

"Peter couldn't touch you while you were so highly vis-
ible at Sweetwater Tower. Be careful, Tom! You stole his
royal pawn from him. He wants you out of the way, too."

"I've already thought of that. Perhaps his spies told him
that a young man wearing Overhall' s blazon rode to Overhall
just before the babes were born. It was Clem, but Peter
thought it was me! Or he thinks that the Librarian who
rescued Rosemary is still at Sweetwater Tower."

"Where do we start?" asked Retruance, lifting his wings

high to rid them of snow and ice.

"Peter will be at his Achievement in Overtide until Ses-
sions begins, I think. It's a good place to start looking for
him, at least. Take me there, then go quickly to report to

the king."

"Hah!" the Dragon roared. "Let's be off!"

RETRUANCE slanted down over the watershed of Overtide,
the river-laced tidal plain on the middle Blue Ocean coast.
Retruance had spent their flight time lecturing Tom about
Dragon riding. There never had been time before.

"The bond between Dragon and Companion is closer than
friendship or even brotherhood," Retruance told him sol-
emnly. "We're as close to being a single being as can be."
"That's how Murdan was able to call you and Furbetrance,
when Overhall was taken," Tom exclaimed. "He's a Com-
panion, too, isn't he?"

DRAGON COMPANION         261

"His Mount is our father Arbitrance Constable. He's been
far out of touch for some years, you remember. Furbetrance
and I were searching for him when we heard Murdan's urgent
call. We broke off our search and returned to Overhall as
quickly as we could."

"Yes, I remember," said Tom thoughtfully. "Can I sum-
mon you like that, too?"

"Oh, yes! As our bond grows stronger, I'll be able to
sense when you need me most. Unfortunately, it wasn't yet
strong enough when I was trapped inside that mountain. I
tried, but you didn't know to listen, I guess."

"When this business of heirs and babies and lost princesses
is over, we'll go looking for your father again," Tom
promised.

"Thank you, Tom! Dragons are family people and it's
unnatural that Papa would stay away so long, willingly."

He pointed down with one long claw.

"There's a Gantrell Needle! It marks the northwest comer
of Gantrell's Achievement. I'd best put you down here.
Peter has armed guards about his house, I'm sure."

They landed in a dense copse of oak and maple near a
tall, thin stone monument that towered over the trees.

"Call me if you need me! I can be here in an hour or less.
Better take off that Overhall blazon. If anyone asks, you're
a freeman scholar, on your way to observe Fall Session in
Lexor."

Tom replaced his emblemed jerkin with a plain sweater,
then slid off the Dragon's smooth head scales, landing on
his feet in a thin crust of snow. The leaves were just
beginning to change colors for fall, chocolate brown oak,
flaming red-gold maple, brilliant gold aspen. Within view,
on a distant ridge, was a two-story, steepled building of red
brick and white trim. It bristled with dozens of chimneys.

"Gantrell House," Retruance said, pointing it out. "Good
luck. Companion!" he called softly and launched himself
into the afternoon sky again, beating away at once to the
northeast.

DRAGON COMPANION         263

:^24^
Missing Princess

A DOZEN burly soldiers blocked Tom's path with their long
pikes.

"Here! You!" yelled the sergeant in charge. "Where you
going, youngster?"

"I'm on my way to the capital for Fall Session," Tom
told him, bowing deeply. He stopped in the middle of the
road and held his hands out, palms up, to show he wasn't
going to draw sword or knife. "I'd hoped for the night's
hospitality of yon great house, good sirs."

"Where be you from?" asked the sergeant, squinting
suspiciously at the stranger, noting the quality of clothes,
and his sword.

"From Waterfields, sir, in the far south."

"A Swamp Rat!" chortled one of the soldiers. "Not many
of you Swamp Rats take to dry land, do you?"

"No, sir, but my master has ordered me to carry his
loyal greetings and petitions to present to the king, come
Session," Tom replied. "He makes his wishes known in
the matter of the young princess who would be queen."

"You haven't heard? We've a real king now, bom just
three days or so ago." He obviously wasn't privy to Peter
of Gantrell's innermost hopes.

"I heard rumor of it in Rainbow, gentle sir. My master
says, better a baby king and a strong regent than a nighty,
unmarried queen. If me regent is right, if you get his
meaning, he says."

"Well, good enough for him, I say!" cried the sergeant in
a more kindly tone. "Now, lad, Gantrell House is famous
for its hospitality to friendly travelers."

The sergeant chuckled, waving him on. "Ask for Mistress
Frabble at the kitchen door. She'll take you in, is the way it
works."

262

Tom thanked them all profusely, and walked past the
squad. Once more the sergeant stopped him.

"Now, water boy, take good advice. Keep to the road. Go
straight to the back after you crosses yon moat, and don't be
a-wandering where you don't belong. Lord Peter of Gantrell
is bloody strict about strangers on his Achievement. Lucky
for you you were on the road. If we'd caught you in the
forest, we'd have trussed you up like a chicken and hauled
you off to our jail. Wet and foul place, even for a Water
Snake!"

His men had a loud laugh at this but they did no more
to hinder him. Tom walked quickly down the middle of the
broad sycamore avenue toward Gantrell's manor house.

Mistress Frabble, when he arrived in the kitchen yard
at the castle's back door, was a thin, mean-eyed, purse-
mouthed middle-aged woman dressed in rusty black from
head to toe. She interviewed him sharply there in the door-
yard.

"Waterfields, eh? What town is that?"

"Chutney Canal," Tom improvised, careful to be very
polite, "ma'am!"

"Chutney Canal? Never heard of it! Nobody I know ever
went to Waterfields, ever."

"The king once came to Chutney Canal," Tom lied
cheerfully. "He was a great, grand man! Ten feet tall, I
recall. He squired a young lady of Knollwater. Pa and Ma
didn't take to that."

"What do you say?" asked the sharp-tongued matron.
"You folks didn't like the king?"

"Not so much the king they didn't like, ma'am, as the
lazy ... Beatricksy, as they call her in the tavern jokes they
tell and don't want the young-uns t'hear!"

Mistresp Prabble became at once considerably more kind-
ly to the visitor, and led him into the open-sided kitchen
shed, where she screamed at a fat assistant cook to bring
the newcomer a plate left over from the noon time meal.

"When you finish, sweet laddy," she cooed, her idea of
an ingratiating tone, "I'll show you to a room over to the
guest-house. Eat well and build your strength! You can tell
me those dirty jokes about the queen, eh?"

She sailed off, head high and mouth set in a grim but
anticipatory smile.

264 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 265

"Best eat up. You'll need your strength!" joked the chub-
by assistant cook, bringing a generously laden plate. "I
hopes you knows what you're getting into with that ancient
she-goat!"

"No, I'm not sure I do. What?" Tom asked innocently,
digging at once into the cold food. The roast was badly
overcooked, but tasty enough. The greens were greasy.

"Lord! She'll keep after you all night to tell her all the
gossip from your parts. She'd rather gossip than eat or—"

He scuttled off suddenly as Frabble returned.

"What was that lovely lad saying to you, sweetheart?"
she asked, attempting to sound honey-tongued.

"Oh, just that you are a hard but fair overseer. Mistress
Frabble. He said you were a good woman to serve under."

"Ah-ha! Well so I am, although I never thought young
Spiggott would say it, the lazy-butt! Are you ready, dear
one? I've much to do, or we could have a nice long talk.
His Lordship is in residence now and I must be there to see
to him and his important guests when they return from the
hunt. Come along!"

As the housekeeper led him across the wide courtyard to
the guesthouse, there came a sudden rush and flurry of
horsemen through the gate beside the Great House. The
hunters had returned. Hounds bayed and jumped in excite-
ment, horses stomped, eager for a rubdown and a ration of
oats, and sweaty-faced men called for a drink to wash away
the dust.

Lord Peter of Gantrell was at their head, the first glimpse
Tom had had of Manda's uncle. He was well built, broad
of shoulder, with a hard-visaged but handsome face, which
was neatly framed by a coal black beard, cut short to high-
light the outline of his jaw and chin.

All the hunters were dressed alike, in scarlet coats and
tight-fitting trousers. Lord Peter's were more richly and
carefully tailored, and while the others looked overheated,
mud spattered, and wrinkled, Peter remained fresh and
clean, unmarked by the rigors of the chase.

Mistress Prabble hurried her visitor into a long, low brick
guest house and showed him quickly to a room at the back,
away from the gardens and the courtyard.

"Make yerself to home!" she said distractedly. "Linen's

fresh. I'll send a boy with hot water if you care to bathe.
The necessary is out that door. Stay here! Don't wander
abroad too far!"

She rushed off without further ado, intimate gossip for-
gotten for the moment, to manage the homecoming of the
Lord of Gantrell.

LEFT to his own devices, Tom pulled off his boots and
heavy clothing—they were getting rather too warm now
that the storm had passed—and after waiting a half-hour
went off to the kitchen again, seeking the pail of hot water
that Frabble had forgotten.

He bathed, changed, and lay dozing on the narrow cot for
an hour, expecting the housekeeper to return for her gossip,
but Frabble never reappeared. Someone sent a turnspit to
call him to supper in the servants' dinning room. He sat
with Spiggott, the assistant cook, while they ate.

It was by then early evening, not yet full night. Up at the
Great House lights blazed and there came sounds of loud
talking and laughter, the clinking of glasses, and orchestra
music, full and lively, for dancing.

"Is it like this all the time?" Tom asked Spiggott.

"Ever! When the master is home, at any rate. Pretty
quiet, otherwise, I admit. The food is much better when
he is here, too."

"Who is here, beside the lord and his lady and their
children, I mean."

"You are a bumpkin! Everybody knows Lord Peter is
unmarried. He's said to be waiting for the Princess Alix
Amanda to come of age .. ."

"I never heard that!" cried Tom. "Nor did .. . er, anyone
else where I hail from."

"I don'it say it's true, but old Frabble swears she heard it,
up at Great House. Overheard, is more like it. That woman
has ears as long as a jenny's!"

He allowed as how the guests that night were magnates
going up to the city, Lexor, on their way north to attend
Sessions.

"All they talk of is this princess and the king's baby
son, and things like that, Prabble says. I don't understand
most of it."

"If His Lordship marries this princess and she becomes

266 Don Callander

queen someday. Lord Peter will be king then?"

"Don't ask me! I just help cook his meals and stay out
of his way!"

"He is a hard master, then?"

"It be worth my tongue to say anything against him,
friend. Better to remain silent."

Tom changed the subject back to Mistress Frabble.

"She loves to gossip, I can tell. She seemed about to
set down and get me to talk about my folks and what
was said about the queen, but the hunters returned and
she rushed off."

"She's forgotten you, I'll wager on that," said Spiggot
with a laugh. "Old Frabble likes to be where His Lordship
can see her. She'll rush about and order people to do this
and that, as long as the quality are awake and drinking."

"They'll be at it late, then?"

"Usually are. Never hit bed until sunrise, them kind
don't. You have people like that down in your swamps,
don't you?"

"Oh, we have ones that'll drink and carouse, sing and
shout at each other for days without rest," Tom boast-
ed. "Waterfields folk raise bottomless boozers, I can tell
you!"

He was grateful that Gantrell's servants were, like the
soldiers on the road, ignorant of almost every aspect of
Waterfields life and ways—aside from the fact that their
queen came from there—because Tom, almost as ignorant,
made it up as he went along.

Someone yelled "Time!" and the servants' supper was
abruptly over. Spiggott hurried away, looking hard-pressed,
but Tom dawdled on his way back to his room, studying the
layout of Gantrell's country place.

Overhall was a heavily fortified dwelling, with tall towers
and thick walls in concentric rings, all perched along an
inaccessible ridge. Ffallmar Farm was a well-built, rangy
farm home, with sturdy walls and steep-pitched roofs and
rugged outbuildings of stone and timbers. Ramhold was a
squat, practical, log-and-sod affair set into its protecting
hill, looking as though it had not been built, but rather as
if it had grown there, like a tree.

Gantrell House was grander than them all. It reminded
Tom most of the mansions of wealthy Tidewater planters

DRAGON COMPANION         267

in Virginia. Begun as a plain, solid farmhouse, it still
showed strong signs of farming. Its redbrick Great House,
its appendage buildings, barns and storehouses, garden
sheds and stables, were all set close together in careful
husbandry.

The Great House may once have been a simple farm-
house, but the addition of a second floor, tall windows,
wide verandas, soaring pillars and carved cornices, painted
white, had made it almost a palace.

The whole was arranged sensibly in a roomy rectangle,
with the Great House across the top, the kitchen, scullery,
dairy, and bake house to its left, not connected to it except
by a covered brick walkway, to allow serving boys to reach
the dining room quickly and dry shod bearing heavy trays
of food.

To the right of the House, also separate but with con-
necting arcades, were a chapel; then a small schoolhouse,
now used for storage, it seemed; workshops for weavers,
potters, and various craftsmen; and, at the far end, the guest
house. All stood one story high but with tall, steep-pitched
roofs, channeled to carry rainwater into deep cisterns, lined
with carefully fitted stone, around the edges of the cen-
tral court.

The fourth side of the square consisted of practical brick-
and-wood farm buildings, centered on a lofty bam, in which
were stored sweet-smelling straw and hay, against the com-
ing winter.

Beyond the bam and the dairy, the pigpens and the chick-
en coops, was a fenced meadow for horses and another for
dairy cattle. In sheltered places under a neat orchard of
apple and pear, crusted snow still resisted the warmth of
the fall evening.

After quietly making the rounds of the rectangle twice—
pretending to be taking an after-dinner stroll, being careful
to remain fully in everyone's sight—Tom returned at near
darkness to the guest house. He undressed and lay down on
the bed to wait.

A while later he heard someone try his door and open
it a crack. Mistress Frabble's long, inquisitive nose poked
through, sniffed in disappointment, and withdrew. The door
closed silently and he heard the housekeeper cross the brick
floor to the outside door.

268

DRAGON COMPANION         269

Don Callander

He jumped from his bed, breathing a silent thank-you,
and ran barefoot across the hall to where he could look
from an open window after the departing woman.

He caught a glimpse of her reentering the house by a
rear door. The noise and music of the party still rolled out
over the otherwise quiet and peaceful scene. The clock in
the tower over the front gate began to toll. He counted the
strokes. Ten.

He returned to his room and lay awake atop his bed for
another hour. The party showed no signs of winding down,
although most of the farm hands and servants were long
abed. A woman Frabble's age would not be able to resist
falling into her own bed when her duties were at last com-
pleted, on toward two or three next morning, Tom guessed.
He should be left to his own devices until morning.

He walked silently down the central hall of the guest
house, passing the closed doors of other guests. At a few
he heard low talking or snoring, but most of the rooms were
quiet. He let himself out through a door facing the stables
across a grassy exercise yard surrounded by white-painted
fences.

If I'd captured twenty-five soldiers and fifteen servants,
maids, and grooms and such, would I keep them all togeth-
er? Probably not. Perhaps Lord Peter ordered the ser-
vants and soldiers held at some out-of-the-way place. Does
Gantrell have holdings between Overtide and the north
shore of the lake? He didn't know. Retruance might have
known. The thought made him feel discouraged.

Of course, Tom mused, Gantrell would want to keep
Manda close by, to produce her quickly if he needed.
He'd want to supervise her captivity and Murdan's too.
What better place than this vast farm?

"Manda, my princess, I bet you're close by, if I can but
find you!" he muttered to himself. "But where are you?"

He found the dairy herd sound asleep, the chickens in
their coops, and the ducks and geese in their hutches near
the mill pond, also sleeping. Tom had sense enough to stay
way from the geese. He knew from his Iowa boyhood that
they made great alarm sounders.

He stole through the deepest shadows—No moon tonight,
at least, not yet, he thought—to the far side of the barn-
yard, guided by a faint glow from an open-sided black-

smith's shed where the forge fire had been banked but still
glowed.

Standing under the smithy's roof, feeling the heat of the
glowing coals on his back, he studied the next building in
line. It was, possibly, a large storehouse. Its doors were
tightly closed, its windows barred and shuttered.

A movement caught his eye as he was about to step out
into the open again. Around the comer of the storehouse
marched a soldier with a pike over his shoulder, humming
to himself.

An armed guard? Guarding what?

The soldier paused at the comer of the building nearest
to where Tom was hiding. The Librarian faded back into
the deepest shadows under the smithy's roof. At first he
thought the man was staring at him across the fifteen steps
between them, but the soldier dug something from his
pocket and, walking right past Tom, he used a pair of
smith's tongs to pluck a coal from the banked forge fire
to light his pipe.

A cloud of aromatic tobacco smoke wafted past Tom;

he almost sneezed. The soldier strolled back to his post,
passing again within ten feet, leaned against the comer of
the storage building, puffed his pipe, and gazed dreamily
across the meadow to the fringe of trees.

Tom sank slowly to his knees to ease the strain of staying
very still so close to the guard. But the soldier's attention
was fixed on the edge of the trees long after he'd knocked
the dottle from his pipe. Then he straightened, as though
he'd seen something coming.

Tom, too, caught a nutter of white and heard almost
inaudible footsteps in short-cropped grass. The soldier
moved from the shadow of his building and raised a
hand in greeting. A slight form slipped quickly over a
stile in the meadow fence and ran to him. They embraced
and Tom heard faint, soft words.

The lovers slipped back into the shadow of the store-
house. "Where's your mate, love?" he heard the girl ask.

"Shhh! Not so loud, damnit!" whispered her man. "He's
asleep at the other end on a pile of hay. I told him we
planned to meet and he promised to keep away."

"We're supposed to lie here? In the dirt and chicken drop-
pings?" the girl protested, pulling away from his embrace,

270 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 271

her voice shrill. "There's nettles here, too!"

"No, no, wait, Lucy! I've a good, snug place in mind.
Across there in the barn. I left the back door unhooked,
see? We'll slip up there and be very comfortable in the loft
for a long while."

"Let's go then!" cried the lass with a throaty giggle. The
two, clinging together, skipped swiftly across the open yard
to the barn and disappeared within.

"Thank God for Lucy's healthy hormones!" Tom
breathed. He waited several minutes more, listening and
watching, in case the guard sergeant was wise to the sol-
dier's intentions. No one came.

The storehouse was as large as two houses, with widely
overhanging eaves on all sides, providing welcome shadow.
There was just enough light to see where the end door stood
closed and a light push showed it to be locked. Tom circled
the building, moving away from the direction taken by the
lovers.

A burst of cheering from the Great House made him
pause. There was a loud crash and a shriek of laughter.

"Damnation!" said a voice almost in his ear. "They're
still at it!"

"Be thankful," Clem's voice said from further away,
within. "I've got a sackful to be dumped, now that guard's
gone off to sample love's sweet secrets."

Shutters on a window a few feet away slowly opened
and arms stretched out, emptying a feed sack of dry, loose
dirt on the bare ground.

"Psst!" Tom hissed softly. "Murdan!"

"The devil! Why 'tis Tom Librarian!" hissed the Histo-
rian, pressing his chest tight against the window bars to see
out. "Come to get us free, are you, Tom?"

In a moment they were shaking hands gleefully through
the stout wooden bars.

"We're digging," Clem explained from the stygian dark-
ness. "The hole's almost ready to crawl through. Only a
short way to go."

"Chipping away at the window bars would've been
quicker," Tom observed, drily.

"No tools," said the Historian. "We're digging with a
piece of shingle. Besides, we're not digging out. We're
digging in!"

"In?" Tom asked in surprise.

"Into the next room. Manda and Momie are locked in
there with no way to get to them, except under the wall,"
explained Clem. "Lucky the floor is dirt."

"Manda? Next door?" asked Tom.

"We've a plan," said Murdan. "We get into the ladies'
chamber and hide. Our meals are pushed through a grille
in our door but the ladies are served by a guard who brings
their food right into their cell."

"Jump the guards. Bolt through the door together," fin-
ished Clem.

"But," Tom objected, "that won't be until tomorrow
morning!"

"Best we can do, my boy," said Murdan. "Here, spread
that dirt around so the damned guard won't trip on the pile
when he comes around again."

While they went back to work inside, Tom scouted
around the building, locating the snoring second guard
some distance beyond its far end. If needed, he could be
overpowered.

He inspected the door that led to Manda's cell and found
to his delight that it did not boast a mechanical lock like the
end door, but was barred by two sliding bolts. He returned
to the diggers to inform them of his find.

"We're six inches from breaking through to their side,"
whispered Murdan. "Be quicker now to go that way, collect
the girls, and you open the door for us."

"Agreed," said Tom. "Will we escape on foot? I know
where the stables are."

"No time!" said the Historian. Tom could feel him shak-
ing his head in regret, despite the darkness.

"Once we're away I can call Retruance. But it'll take
him several hours to get here. He's at Sweetwater Tower
by now."

"We'll have to trust to our woodsman to get us through
the woods," said Murdan.

"Get you through the hole in the floor first," said Clem,
arriving with a heavy sack of dirt. "I've broken through,
but I'll have to widen it a bit more before an overweight
Historian can squeeze through."

Tom stood silent in thought while the two miners finished
their tunnel.

272

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

273

"Do you know any of Gantrell's guests?" he asked as
the last bit of soil was dumped and spread on the bare

ground.

"I know 'em all," growled Murdan, dusting his hands

together disgustedly.

"Give me the name of one from somewhere nearby.
I'll go to the night groom and order him to saddle the
man's horses on the pretense he wants to leave. We've
got to ride, if we can. Dawn is no more than three hours

away."

"Might work," the Historian conceded. "All right! Man
named Folderal is here. Came with three companions in the
late afternoon. We were able to see him."

"Master Folderal it is, then! I'll open the door, then go
to fetch horses. Wait for me here."

He slipped around the storehouse once more and quietly
unbolted the door to the adjacent storeroom.

In a moment he was inside, being smothered with hugs
and kisses from a shadowy princess and her maid.

"Tom! Oh, Tom! I knew you'd come get us!" whispered

Manda.

"Not a thing in the world could stop me," Tom declared,
holding her close for a moment more. "But we're not out
of this yet, my heart."

The Historian and the woodsman emerged from a far
comer of the room, covered with mould and dirt but beam-
ing happily. Their dirty clothes didn't prevent them from
receiving kisses and hugs, too.

"Listen," Tom whispered, gathering them all close so he
could speak very softly, "I'm going to get horses—"

"I'll go with you," interrupted Clem. "It'll take two to
handle four mounts and knock out the groom, if needed."

"Good, then. Manda, wait here. Keep the door closed."

"Much too risky," declared Manda. "The guard might be
back any minute. Better to stay together!"

Tom reluctantly agreed and in short order the five were
creeping through the shadows, giving the barn and its lovers
wide berth, back to the guest house. Tom ducked inside to
recover his weapons and knapsack.

Clem found the others a hiding place behind the paddock

fence.

Tom walked boldly to the groom's office at the stable's

entrance, finding the man sleeping on a bare cot, fully
dressed.

"Here, fellow!" Tom cried in an impatient, commanding
voice. "Master Folderal wants his horses up to the house,
at once!"

The groom grumbled and growled a bit but, more asleep
than awake, found and saddled Polderal's four mares and
gratefully turned them over to Tom and Clem so he could
go straight back to his bed.

They mounted—Manda and Momie on the same horse—
and walked the animals quietly around the paddock, through
the meadow, into the orchard. As they rode under the fruit
trees, Clem plucked a double pocketful of fall keepers for
their breakfast later.

"Which way?" Tom asked, the first time he had spoken
in a normal voice in what seemed hours and hours.

"North by west," Clem answered at once, pointing the
way. He'd already given it some thought. "I noticed when
we were brought here, the trees and underbrush are thickest
there. There're deep ravines we can hide in and still go in
the right direction."

"Will you call your Dragon?" asked Murdan.

"Only if I have to," answered Tom. He took several
minutes of the ride to describe what he and Retruance had
found at Overhall, and what had happened at Sweetwater
Tower before that.

"Twins!" exclaimed Manda, grabbing Tom's nearest
hand. "Beatrix, bless her heart and soul, had twins?"

"A loud and lively boy, Ednoll, and an equally lively girl,
Amelia," Tom told her. "I'm their godfather."

"What beautiful names!" cried Manda. "Well, then, we
have our little kinglet, don't we?"

"It would, seem," Tom smiled, a bit sadly. "It'll put a
wrench in Peter's machinery, at any rate."

"Wrench?" wondered the princess.

"Never mind, Manda, dear! We need to talk it over,
but we think, Retruance, your father the king, and I, that
Gantrell will be defanged, what with you in our arms . . .
ah, that is, hands . . . again, and Murdan free, and the trial
of Freddie the Sponge ready to start."

"Defanged?" Manda giggled. "A perfect word! It suits
Uncle Peter so very well!"

DRAGON COMPANION

275

^25^
A DHTerent Kind of Flight

THEY reached the edge of Gantrell House farmland. Fields
and woodlots gave way to a jungly tangle of close-set trees,
thorny brush, and tangled vines that at first sight seemed

impassable.

"Leave the horses," Clem decided. "There's enough light
now to make our way through this. Horses would take
us through no faster, and leave traces a blind man could

follow."

They dismounted. Clem shouted at the horses and napped
his cloak. They reared back in alarm and galloped off
toward Folderal's distant farm.

"That'll perhaps lead any searchers astray for a while,"
the trapper said with satisfaction. "Now, friends, follow me
closely and step as I step."

Clem knew how to move through rough country leaving
no trace of his passing. He led them down brush-choked
draws, through marshy wetlands, along shallow trickles
between overgrown banks, through ever-thicker clumps of
willow and white poplar, teaching them to leave neither
footprint nor broken branch to show they'd passed that

way.

"We could move a lot faster," he told them as the sun
rose and full day dawned at last, "but they'd see exactly
where we'd been and guess where we were going."

"No, no take your time! Slow and steady wins the race!"
puffed Murdan the Historian. "I'm getting too old for dash-
ing about in the woods."

Manda and Momie, as the morning became hotter and
more humid, suffered with him from too little sleep and
too much tension over the past four days. Tom suggested
to Clem he find a hidden place to rest, perhaps to sleep,
until nightfall.

274

"Not quite yet," the woodsman disagreed. "We're only
a short, fast ride from Gantrell House. You see? They're
looking for us already!"

He pointed back and up the long slope they had been
descending, keeping within a fringe of swamp birch. Along
the top of the rise a troop of horsemen galloped swiftly by,
rattling, jingling, and shouting to a baying pack of hounds
in front of them.

"They're hunting us with dogs!" gasped Momie in hor-
ror.

"That bunch will never see a sign of us," said Murdan,
wiping his face with a soggy kerchief. "We were never near
that road!"

"The dogs worry me more than the riders," Clem said.
"They're old-timers at hunting, know the ground like their
noses. We need a bit of woodland magic, just now."

They followed him as quickly as they could through the
copse. His eyes swung methodically from left to right, back
and forth, searching the ground.

"A-ha!" he said at last, going down on his knees in the
leafy litter. He picked a handful of small, round leaves
from a flat, gray-green plant beside a mossy rock. "Here's
dogmaze! Great luck!"

He had them all sit on the ground right there and vig-
orously rubbed the soles of their boots with the thick, oily
leaves.

"Dogmaze, eh?" commented the Historian, who consid-
ered himself something of an expert on herbs, spices, and
woodland remedies. "It has a pleasant odor. Does it cover
our own scent, then?"

"More than that," answered the trapper, applying the last
of the leaves to his own boots. "The scent tells the dogs
that we are friends and wish not to be found. The hounds'll
pretend to lose the scent, run about as if confused. Actually
they'll be covering our tracks for us."

"We must get some rest. We're all dead tired and stum-
bling," Tom insisted. Manda strove to appear fresh and
willing to go on, but failed. Momie, with a smaller pride to
defend, let her exhaustion show in lusterless eyes, sagging
shoulders, and ragged breathing.

"We'll go slowly for just a bit more," promised Clem,
shaking his head in sympathy. "Nearer the Samber we'll be

276

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

277

safe until Gantrell mounts a more careful search afoot."
"How far?" Momie sighed, rising wearily.
"In miles? Two or three at the most. In time? An hour or
two, depending on how brave you are and how strong your
reserves, lovely maiden," answered Clem with a tenderness
his drinking companions in Wall would not have recog-
nized. He took the lass's hand and led her into the thickest
part of the tangle, ducking down a muddy watercourse that
appeared before them, into a low-lying scrub even more

tangled than before.

"There's River Samber," gasped Murdan. He pointed
to a wedge of open water seen momentarily between the

trees.

"Samber? What a pretty name for a river," murmured

Manda. Tom held her arm as they plodded on. She seemed
almost asleep on her feet.

"It's the northern border of Gantrell's Achievement,"
Clem said, "according to maps I saw in Tom's library at

Sweetwater Tower."

"The king's library, rather," said Tom with an enormous
yawn. "What lies over the river, then?"

"I don't recall," replied Clem.

"I remember!" said Murdan, snapping his fingers. "North
of Samber and almost all the way to Lexor is the largest of
the royal forests, called Greenlevel."

"It's royal land, then?" asked Tom.

"Not just a royal forest, but the patrimony of the princess
royal from her birth," said Manda.

"Your land?" Tom asked.

"Yes, of course," said his princess with a wan smile, "and
I'd give it all now for a hot bath and a bed."

"We'd better make the best of what cover there is, Clem,"
Tom suggested again, "or we'll end up having to carry the

ladies."

"Perhaps it's time to call the Dragon," said the Histo-
rian, stopping to lean wearily against a tree. "Unless we
can hide somewhere nearby for the rest of the day. Once
we're across the Samber and under Greenlevel, we'll be
safe from Gantrell. Even if he brought an army, Manda's
foresters could easily hide us and fend him off."

"There are things I don't know about myself," laughed
Manda. "I have a forest, I knew, but foresters?"

Clem was unhappy with the necessity for resting but
accepted it, finally, leaving them in the shade of an overtop-
ping bank to scout ahead. Fifteen minutes later he led them
to a hollow, entirely invisible from every angle and filled
to its brim with a single, ancient, long-thomed bay bush.

"Under here," he directed. "Crawl low so the thorns
won't stab you."

Once beyond the first screen of low-hanging boughs,
they found themselves under a dome of aromatic, closely
growing leaves. Only a dim, green light reached them. The
air felt cool after the humid heat of the open woods. The
floor of the hollow was covered with fine, dry sand.

"No fire," Clem warned. "We'll be hidden and safe
enough here until dusk. If anyone comes close by, we can
dash down that way, into the river in a few paces."

"Oh, a wonderful place!" sighed Mornie in relief, and
she set about spreading their heavy winter cloaks on the
ground. In less time than it takes to tell, both young ladies
and the Historian were sound asleep.

"I seem to be fresher than you," said Tom. "I got a few
hours' sleep at Gantrell's guest house last night. I'll take
the first watch."

"Good!" Clem agreed. "Wake me at noon. Stay out of
sight, especially from the ridge."

Tom crawled back under the bay, being careful not to
disturb the leaves or snag himself on thorns. He found a
raised bank of bare clay, which allowed him a fairly clear
view of both the ridge and the river, and settled down to
watch.

HE was wakened in the late afternoon, when the trapper
crawled up to his perch and shook him by the foot.

"Fine wide-awake guard you are!" Clem teased. "I don't
suppose you've seen or heard anything of interest?"

"Nothing," Tom assured him sheepishly. "Some commo-
tion at the top of the hill a long time ago. Must be the main
road, up there. Horsemen keep coming and going, in full
view."

"Gantrell expected us to follow the straightest, shortest
road to the river ferry," Clem said. "By now he's discovered
his mistake and will start his people beating the bushes on
foot. It'll take them hours if they start at the orchard. Less,

278

Don Callander                                            DRAGON COMPANION

279

if they discover where we dismounted."

He narrowed his eyes into the lowering sun through the
bayberry's branches. "We'd better have something to eat
and get started. As the Historian said, the sooner we get
within Greenlevel, the better."

He produced the apples he'd picked when they rode
through Gantrell's orchard. As the others awoke, stiff and
sore but happy to be free, he sliced and passed them out.
While they ate, he snaked out of the hollow and went
scouting toward the river.

They were ready to resume their journey when he returned,
popping out of the underbrush at the end of a completely
silent approach.

"What news?" asked Murdan.

"We're a short walk from the river, mostly through marsh,
which means we'll have to wade. I suggest we all remove
our boots and wade bare of feet, for we'll want dry boots

in the forest."

They followed him as he moved off, with their boots
buckled together and hung about their necks, through dense
undergrowth, picking a way to avoid sharp thorns and beds
of stinging nettles.

"I haven't been barefoot out of doors since I was a little
girl," whispered Manda, her good spirits revived after a
sound sleep and a slice or two of juicy-tart apple. "My
soles used to be hard as hom."

"You must have been a tomboy." Tom laughed at the
picture in his mind's eye, and then had to explain the
expression, for she'd never heard it before.

"In any case," she said when she understood, "now I have

a Tom-boy!"

Twenty minutes of sliding down muddy banks and wad-
ing through knee-deep pools of warm, algae-black water,
over sandbars carpeted with purple and blue flowers, and
they came to a line of ancient willows, roots tangled and
braided together into a barrier to the open river, which lay

just beyond.

The refugees stopped to catch their breath and admire
the slow, silvery river.

A band of men dressed all in dark brown, armed with
staves, short swords, and long bows, dropped from the
limbs of the willows and surrounded them.

EDUARD Ten, King of Carolna, in his most splendid robe of
state, marched solemnly down the four-hundred-foot aisle of
the Hall of Session in Lexor, and ascended the red-and-gold
Trusslo throne.

Nobles and freeman delegates cheered enthusiastically,
with all evidence of sincere admiration. A company of
young men-at-arms in highly polished half-armor, swords
drawn, preceded and followed the king, looking fiercely to
all sides, as ancient custom dictated. They were followed by
the queen's escort, twenty-four beautiful maidens dressed in
gowns of pastel colors, and ten imposingly dignified matrons
of honor in shimmering silks and satins.

Beatrix, now seen abroad for the first time since her
confinement, was greeted by even louder cheers and calls
of good wishes from the assembled Session. She smiled
brilliantly at everyone, even into the dark, disapproving
visage of the king's powerful ex-brother-in-law, Peter of
Gantrell, who stood, handsome and erect, at the foot of the
dais, just under the edge of its sea blue silk canopy.

Men searched his face as well as the young queen's,
looking for signs of unease at this meeting. Rumors were
flying everywhere—as they always did when the delegates
to Session came to the capital.

Those who knew Peter well saw he was under tension;

there was a wariness to his deep-set gray eyes that were
usually so arrogantly confident. He stood with the faintest
touch of slump, as if tired or bored. Gossips had no answers,
but all eyes watched him closely.

King Eduard, looking rested and fresh, waited until his
consort had gracefully mounted the two steps to the throne
and gallantly handed her to a gilt chair at its right, smiling
warmly at her as if to say. This is as much your acclamation
as mine, my dear.

Applause rolled over them, on and on. The king stood
facing the delegates until the din subsided enough to allow
him to be heard without shouting.

"Carolna!" he cried in a rich, carrying baritone. "Friends,
countrymen of high and low degree! We, your king and
queen, greet you with love and extend to you our wishes
for continued peace and increased prosperity."

With a few exceptions, notably Gantrell and his closest
adherents, they were all in very good spirits.

280

Don Callander

"The birth of our son, I warrant, has lifted from them all
a burden they shared with us," Eduard said aside to Beatrix.
She nodded happily and waved again to the excited throng.

The king waited again for the uproar to subside, then
bent to pick up the Wand of Justice, laid at the foot of the
throne and, raising it for all to see, called out: "I declare
this Twentieth Fall Session of our reign hereby to be open.
Let all men, of any and all circumstances, closely attend and
be heard in all matters, that I, your king, may judge the right
and render true justice, decide and dispose, for the good of

each and all."

A choir of trumpets soared in a stirring fanfare. The king
seated himself on the throne, and the business of Carolna in

Fall Session began.

The king was firmly in charge. He set the pace, decided
when to stop to rest, when to begin again. He selected those
whom he would hear first, and who must wait. Sessions
were expected to last for days, perhaps weeks, but few
failed to attend every sitting.

Their evenings would be spent in celebration, at gala
balls, in sumptuous private dinners, and public banquets.
There would be merchant ships racing on Brant Bay, mock
duels between heavily armored knights, and competitions
between highborn ladies in needlework, poetry, drawing,

and music.

Freemen flocked to archery tournaments, wrestling and
boxing matches, and contests between woodsmen and among
horsemen. They especially enjoyed horse races, horseshoe-
ing, and exhibits of husbandry—and wifery as well.

In the first three days the king heard petitions from free-
men and minor noblemen, and disputes between neighbors
or members of the same family.

A father had died intestate. His eldest son claimed all
his property and wealth. His other two sons demanded
equal shares. The eldest had housed, fed, and made easy
the deceased's last days. The other two, pleading lack of
funds, failed to give the old man support, and stayed distant
until his very last moments. Angry words had been spoken

and threats made.

"What was the last wish of the deceased?" the king

asked.

"He left no written will," the eldest testified under solemn

DRAGON COMPANION

281

oath. "But he told me I was to have all, as his other sons had
deserted him in his old age."

"You would appear to deserve it," said the king, cupping
his chin in his right palm to help him think. "What did he
say of your brothers?"

"That they were churls and ingrates. Your Majesty,"
answered the eldest son, reddening, suddenly ashamed to
say it.

"That was in anger, perhaps?" Eduard wanted to know.
"He said that before he was certain of death?"

The eldest shook his head. He couldn't remember, he said
haltingly.

"Didn't he say, in earlier days, that his sons were all
precious to him and all three shared in his love, as well
as his hard-won wealth, while he was alive?"

"Ah, I say, well," hesitated the eldest son, beet red now.

"Was it not so, sirrah!" demanded the king, sternly.

"Yes, sire, it was so. But. . ."

"You ask me to speak for your dead father," said the
king, straightening in his seat. "If I'd known the man,
perhaps I could judge better, but I can only think what /
would have wanted, were you my sons. And that's clear. I
am a father. A father, I know, may say things in anger and
disappointment, but still love his sons—and his daughters—
too much to wish them hurt when he is gone."

He turned to the royal recorder who sat on his left, and
dictated his decision for all to hear.

"The eldest son will have an exact half of the patrimony
left by his father, as reward for caring for him and support-
ing him in old age's infirmity.

"The other two sons will share equally the other half of
the wealth of their father, carefully determined according to
the law of the land. The king reminds them that they, one
day, will be fathers who must divide their patrimony among
loved and loving children. They are, he says, to enjoy the
money and the land, but remember, every time they use or
sell it, the love their father bore for them."

The three litigants, without prompting, fell into each
other's arms at the relief they felt and wept away their
past quarrels and hot anger.

"I've at least made the spirit of their poor father happy,
wherever he rests," said Eduard to Beatrix.

282 Don Callander

"That's no small consolation," replied the queen with
warm approval.

"I AM Alix Amanda, Princess Royal!" insisted Manda angri-
ly. "How dare you doubt me?"

"Anyone can claim to be of royal blood, mistress," said
the tall, wiry chief forester. "Any pretty girl could come
along and say she was our liege, the Princess Alix Amanda.
How are we to tell? Think of what harm it would do if we
made a mistake, we of Greenlevel?"

He looked genuinely distressed and Manda relented from
her sudden hot anger.

"Hear me, however! I am vouched for by these persons.
Here is the Royal Historian, my uncle Murdan, Lord of
Overhall. This young man is my betrothed, Thomas, Librar-
ian to Lord Murdan, and this is his close friend, a freeman
of the northern forests, not unlike yourselves. Clematis of
Broken Land. The lady is my kinswoman and attendant,
Lady Momie of Momingside . . ."

"Lady Momie!" gulped Clem, startled. "Lady?"

"Well, yes, I thought you knew about that," said the
maid, smiling at his confusion. "Does it make any differ-
ence?"

"No, no, no!" cried her swain. "No difference! I never
paid any attention before to what titles they gave you,
Momie."

Manda watched their captors closely. They were im-
pressed by her words and manner, despite their deep sus-
picions, and by the byplay between the trapper and the
maid.

"If I may?" begged Tom.

"Yes, sir," said the chief forester, brusquely.

"I suggest we retreat to the other side of River Samber
before Lord Peter of Gantrell and his soldiers come looking
for the princess and the Historian. They aren't far off."

"We've seen them riding the Ferry Road," agreed the
forester. "But we've no quarrel with Gantrell."

"You do now, by God!" Manda exclaimed furiously. "He
has held me captive against my will! Held my uncle and my
friends in prison as well. We have just last night escaped his
house!"

"There is much to sort out here, lady," conceded the

DRAGON COMPANION         283

chief forester. "Perhaps it's better to pursue the matter in
the safety of Greenlevel, after all."

He gave orders to his brown-clad bowmen and they
hurried off downstream under the arch of willows, swiftly
and silently leading the escape party in their midst.

A good-sized side stream entered the river, forming a
cove, hidden from sight by the drooping willow boughs. On
a tiny sand beach lay four bark canoes, light but strong and
swift by the looks of them, Clem thought. The foresters of
Greenlevel put the travelers into the boats and seized leaf-
shaped paddles to propel the craft out into the slow-moving
current, angling across to the far shore, a mile away.
"They'll see us!" objected Tom to the chief forester.
"Doubtful at this time of evening. There's nothing for it,
anyway," replied the other, swinging his paddle in time with
his mates. "If what your lady says is true, we must not let
Gantrell find us on his land. He has great powers there, not
to mention a large force of trained men-at-arms."

The canoes crossed unchallenged, however, and nosed
into a grassy shore on the north bank. The land here rose
steeply to the forest floor, where it became gently rolling
under the cover of trees, without swamps or marshes to
bar easy travel. In an hour the party was brought to a
clearing in which stood four or five rustic log cottages
with moss-covered cedar-shake roofs and tall fieldstone
chimneys, from which spiraled thin threads of smoke.

"This is our southern headquarters," explained the for-
ester. "We call it South Post, for want of a better name.
You're welcome to our hospitality."

"My hospitality," insisted Manda, but with a smile. "If
you wish to explore this problem, I ask only that we be
given a chance to bathe and dine first. Five days as captive
and a night and a day in the swamps of Override may
account for my not looking very regal."

"So it shall be, for such is our usual hospitality," the chief
forester agreed, and he turned to give orders to his men and
their women, who came from the cottages to meet them.

"You are Strongoak," Manda said to him, remembering
his name at last.

"I apologize for not introducing myself at once, lady!
Yes, I'm Strongoak, Princess Royal Alix Amanda's chief
forester in Greenlevel Forest."

284

DRAGON COMPANION

Don Callander

285

"I seem to recall meeting you long ago," Manda said.
"Didn't you bring a present to me on my fifth birthday?"

"No, that would be my father, of the same name," said
Strongoak, shaking his head. "He passed away—"

"Six years back," interrupted Manda. "I recall the sad
news coming to Momingside. Killed by a wild boar, as I
remember."

"That's true. My father brought a pair of pups to the ward
of Granger Gantrell," said Strongoak.

"No, it was my forest pony," cried Manda. "Adorable,
gentle little Charade! I was so sad when I grew too big to
ride him about Uncle Granger's meadows and gardens."

Strongoak listened gravely but said no more until, sev-
eral hours later, he sat with them over a plain but hearty
supper on trestle tables set under the oaks in the cooled
evening air.

"I know no absolute way to confirm your identity," he
began when they settled back to relax after the meal. "I must
say I personally am convinced you are who you say you are,
but feel I must have proof positive. I owe it to you. Princess,
for I am responsible for the safety and management of your
lands here."

"Even if I am not your princess?" asked Manda with
a laugh. "Well, I can't think of anything more to say to
convince you. I am who I say I am, and so are these
others. We wish to be protected from my wicked Uncle
Peter, and escorted to Lexor to join my father, the king,
at Pall Session. You are aware of the importance of this
Session, aren't you. Chief Forester?"

"Very much so," replied Strongoak. "I was about to
depart myself to attend, carrying the fealty of my people,
especially if Gantrell makes trouble for you. Princess, in
the matter of becoming queen."

"Do you know where my desires lay on that?" asked
Manda, suddenly.

"I... I have heard you do not wish to wear the Trusslo
crown or to sit the throne," Strongoak hesitated.

"It's true, however. My father now has a son. Prince
Ednoll, who is his clear male heir. Once Peter of Gantrell
thought he could control the crown by holding fast to
me, marrying me to one of his nephews or taking me as
bride himself, perhaps. I ran away—to Overhall. All this

will be brought out at this Session, you see, and Gantrell
will be much reduced in power, perhaps even sent into
exile again when the freemen and nobles hear my story
in full."

"I can see why Princess Alix Amanda would hasten to
Lexor," conceded the Chief Forester.

"The point is," interrupted Murdan, "that the proof of
Manda's identity will come if you were to escort us to
Lexor."

"No one should doubt you," cried Momie, suddenly.
"Anyone who met you should see that you are the Princess
Royal!"

"But here is Strongoak, doubting me, even now!"
exclaimed Manda. "Oh, if it were not for the life and
happiness of my father and Queen Beatrix and the little
babies and all, I'd say return to Overhall and let Gantrell
have his way!"

She began to weep quietly, which disconcerted those who
saw it, Strongoak most of all.

His wife. Ermine, who sat at the other end of the table,
stood and came to Manda, putting her arms about her shoul-
ders and calling out to her husband, "Stop your harassing
the princess, husband! I, for one, believe her. You can no
longer pretend to doubt!"

"My wife is my conscience," the Chief Forester said
with a rueful grin. "And she is perfectly correct! I have not
doubted, not since your first words. I am so sorry. Princess,
but I felt . . ."

"It was your duty, I know," said Manda, accepting a
handkerchief from Tom to wipe away the tears of frustration
and weariness. "I cannot fault your faithfulness, Strongoak.
I forgive your seeming doubt."

From the applause, even from the servants who waited
upon their table, it was evident that all the foresters agreed
with Mistress Ermine.

"Lord Murdan; gentlemen! I would feel better if you
forgave and understood, also," begged Strongoak, rising.

"Nothing to forgive, forget, or misunderstand," said
Murdan. "You have shown yourself a most faithful liege
man, and that's much more important than mere words."

Tom, Momie, and Clem nodded their agreement.

"Now, after a good night's sleep and perhaps a day of

286

Don Callander

rest here, we will lead you through the heart of your forest
to Lexor, Lady Princess," promised Strongoak.

A forester came to them as they sat talking. He reported
that Gantrell's men-at-arms, or so he presumed from their
livery, were preparing to cross on the ferry and enter the

forest.

"Bad news!" cried Strongoak. "We'll have to turn them

back!"

"Just hold them for the night and morrow," suggested
Clem. "That's enough time for us to get a good start, I

think."

"I'll go down to the river ferry myself," decided the Chief
Forester. "I can delay them, if you don't want us to outright
fight them. Princess."

"Once we're away to Lexor, I don't think they'll bother
you, Strongoak," said Manda. "But we do need a night's
rest. Hold Uncle Peter's people with diplomacy at least that
long. We'll ride on, tomorrow morning."

"LORD King," said a freeholder named Triple. "I yield my
time and place to my lord of Gantrell."

"But you have entered a petition, I believe, that deals
with a serious matter between yourself and the Fishermen's
Guild," objected Eduard, leaning forward. It was the mom-
ing of the fourth day of the Twentieth Fall Session of his
reign. Gantrell was making a move.

Triple coughed nervously and paled, but insisted that he
would step aside for his liege lord, which was in accord
with the rules.

"Very well, then, right after lunch," decided Eduard at
last. "We'll hear Lord Peter on a full stomach, at least."

A few in the audience laughed aloud at his quip but most
looked at each other with worried frowns.

^26^
Feints and Thrusts

"You realize," Tom said to the Historian, "that we don't
have our prisoner anymore. He was released when Gantrell
captured you and Manda?"

"Of course," snapped Murdan. They were riding side by
side through endless aisles of oak, ash, elm, and lesser
hardwoods of Greenlevel Forest.

"How can the king try Freddie if he doesn't have Freddie?"
the Librarian asked.

"The important thing is the testimony against Brevory,
and we can give him that," said Clem.

Tom shook his head in disagreement. "Even Freddie
deserves to be present at his own trial and to speak in
his own defense. Besides, I rather expect him to rat on
Peter, if it came to that."

" 'Rat'T' wondered the Historian.

"Squeal," explained Tom. "Uh .. . turn king's evidence.
Testify against Gantrell to save his own neck."

"Ah, I see! Rat! Very good!" Murdan laughed.

"Under our laws, the King can try a felon even though
he is uncaptured and not present," explained Manda. She
had heard the discussion from ahead of them, where she
was riding with Strongoak. "Freddie need not be there. I

admit he probably would 'rat' on Uncle Peter, given a good
chance."

"But this, goes beyond the trial and its results," Tom
argued, somewhat stiffly. "If Freddie is tried and convicted
without being there to speak up for himself. . ."

"He deserves it!" cried Momie.

"Well, yes, you and I know that," said Tom, "but what
about the nobles and the people who are considering siding
with Gantrell against your father, the king, Manda? Or feel
that a grown, experienced Regent like Peter is better than

287

288               Don Callander

a huffy old Historian? If they're convinced Eduard. ..
er!... diddled ... Freddie and your Uncle Peter, it will
strengthen support for Gantrell. A free and open trial, a    

fair and public hearing—that's the important thing, not just    

tweaking Peter's black beard in public."                     
Manda turned in her saddle to nod at him. "You're right,  

as often I find you are, beloved Librarian! Thank you, but

what can we do about it?"                              
"Find Freddie," said Tom, glancing back in turn at Clem.    

"Once we're clear of this forest, Clem and I will join with
Retruance Constable and search the Sponge out. Give us    
a few days. Delay, as I counseled the king. We'll bring

Freddie to Lexor for trial."

Manda made a wry face at the thought of her young

man going off once again without her, but she was her
father's daughter, and deeply aware of the need for her

at court.

"We'll part at Two Mills, then," said Strongoak with a

nod of his head. "Later this afternoon."

"I'll get Retruance to meet us there," decided Tom. "If

he can get away from the court."

"He'll be there!" insisted Manda, dropping back to ride

contentedly beside him.

LOOKING somewhat pale and tired—he had rushed to the
capital the morning after his prisoners had escaped—Peter
of Gantrell made a studied, magnificent picture standing
before the throne, dressed completely in somber black yet
showing his power and riches with diamonds sewn across
his broad chest, forming the Standing Bear blazon.

He was a show in himself and the delegates were eager

for the action to begin.

"My liege!" Lord Peter rumbled. The hall fell absolutely

silent.

"Lord Peter?" responded King Eduard softly.

"I wish to bring before you. Majesty, the matter of certain
accusations made against one of my knights. Sir Fredrick of

Brevory."

The king nodded, leaned back in his great chair, and

steepled his fingers.

"The crown is unaware of any accusations made against

one Fredrick of ... where did you say?"

DRAGON COMPANION         289

"Brevory, Majesty. A small Achievement just to the west
of here, perhaps fifteen miles from where we stand."
"Ah, I recall it. Part of your demesne, is it not?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."

"As I said, we have no information and no complaint
about this man. Lord Peter. Perhaps you could tell us of
what this Brevory is to be accused, and by whom."

"Of course, I cannot speak to that. Lord King, as the
accusation is totally false. I do know that my man Brevory
was recently imprisoned by Murdan of Overhall, who let it
be known he intended to bring Brevory to trial before you
at this Session."

"I recall Lord Murdan writing something about it, now
that you mention it," conceded the king. "But as Murdan
hasn't yet arrived, he couldn't have brought a complaint
before Session, could he?"

Peter thought about this for a moment before going on,
saying, "My words are more in the manner of an inquiry
than a petition, Majesty. I would like to know what Lord
Murdan intends in this matter. In order that my legals may
prepare a defense in Brevory's behalf."

"Well, Peter, I'm sure I've no idea," claimed Eduard.
"Perhaps if you were to find Murdan and ask him? I'm
worried about him, to tell you the truth. He's usually quite
prompt, and yet both he and my daughter are not yet here,
it seems. Can you tell us anything of their tardiness?"

This last was spoken coldly and directly to the nobleman.
Gantrell drew back two steps, despite himself.

"1 have no ... word... of the Historian nor of the
Princess Royal, sire. The last I heard, they were both
at Overhall. If it is your wish, I will start inquiries for
them."

"I do wish so," said the king, settling back easily into his
chair. "Now, if there is nothing more . .. ?"

"I would like to begin general discussion on the roy-
al succession," Gantrell said hastily. Too quickly, many
thought.

"This is a new matter before us?" asked the king
sternly.

"Yes, it is. Majesty, but one which—"
"Will be brought before Session in due time by myself,"
Eduard finished for him. "When the time is right we will

290 Don Callander

settle the whole matter to everyone's satisfaction . . . per-
haps."

"May one ask, sire, when the time will be right?" asked
Gantrell, barely hiding sarcasm.

"As it is undeniably a personal concern of your king,"
said Eduard, slowly, "you will understand that the timing
must be a matter for the king and queen to decide, without
undue pressure. Perhaps, as an unmarried man and never a
father, you would not understand, but believe me, a father
knows when it is time and when it is better to wait for such
a public discussion."

The jab at Peter's unwed and unchilded state brought a
rustle of comment and some laughter from the delegates,
quickly hushed when Peter swung about to stare them
down.

"I may at least have the king's assurance, then, that the
matters I have mentioned will be taken up in this Session?"
he inquired smoothly.

"Positively, yes!" said the king. "And on the matter
of... er ... Psalter .. ."

"Brevory, Your Majesty," corrected Gantrell, strangling
his anger.

"Yes, Brevory. As soon as someone files a complaint
about his kidnapping of Lady Rosemary of Ffallmar and her
children, we will hear evidence and make fair judgment,
you are assured. Lord Peter."

Thus he let everyone know that he knew much more of
the matter than he would admit, officially.

"And the matter of the Princess Royal's guardianship . . . ?
asked Peter.

"Will be taken under consideration when I bring it forth,
no sooner. Lord of Gantrell. Now, may we pass back to
your friend with the fishing rights problem? That kind of
fishing I am more familiar with."

Gantrell bowed sardonically to the king and stalked out
without asking permission. The murmurs and chuckles in
the assemblage were louder than before.

"The king," declared Eduard solemnly, "wishes to remind
his loyal delegates that there are rules and procedures that
all are expected to follow at Session. Without them there
would be utter chaos, I fear. Ah, Sir Triple? May we hear

DRAGON COMPANION         291

your petition, now? Is the representative of the Fishermen's
Guild on hand?"

IN a city overflowing with strangers from all comers of the
realm, in all sorts of strange and exotic costumes and uni-
forms, wearing a half-thousand different house and family
badges and blazons, the band of brown-clad foresters riding
through the southwest Lexor gate on their sturdy, shaggy
forest ponies went unremarked.

"I wish you'd let me send a message ahead," complained
Strongoak. "There's no telling what sort of reception will
await you if they don't know you're here. Princess."

"Never mind!" said Manda. "I don't need an invitation
to enter my father's house. Oh, isn't the city magnificent!
Look, Momie! They've lined the Promenade with the flags
from every Achievement! How gorgeous!"

Exclaiming about the gala scenes they came upon and
commenting on the personages they saw (but who didn't
recognize them in return), Manda and her escorts rode
across the city, directly to the royal palace.

A Royal Guard company, splendid in gold-and-red jack-
ets and trousers; black, shiny knee-boots; and gleaming
half-armor, blocked the entrance to Queen Alix Amanda
Alone Palace, or Manda Palace, as it was commonly called.
The officer in charge strode importantly up to turn these
dusty brown riders away.

"This is the royal residence," he announced. "All seeking
audience with the king must apply in the morning between
nine and eleven to the royal secretary, at this door. Until
then, I'm very afraid I must ask you to clear the roadway.
We are expecting important guests."

Murdan leaned over and flipped his deep hood back.

"Do you recognize me. Colonel?" he asked in a very
quiet voice.

"Oh, yes, Historian!"

"Then you will recognize this young person beside me."

The guard captain studied Manda's suntanned face deep
inside its hood. Suddenly his face brightened as if someone
had uncovered a lamp behind his eyes.

"Oh, yes, indeed I do!" he gulped. He appeared about to
bow, but Murdan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Steady! No names!" he hissed quickly. "We wish to

292

DRAGON COMPANION         293

Eton Callander

enter here privately so that this . . . person . .. can talk in
peace with her father before our presence is general knowl-
edge. Can you arrange this?"

"Certainly, Lord Murdan! I'll send a most reliable officer
to lead you to a postern gateway. No one will suspect you
are anything but wandering minstrels or jugglers reporting
for work. This is suitable for ... this person?"

"It'll do," said Manda, waving a brief gesture of thanks.
"Strongoak, my father, the king, will offer you shelter, I

know."

"It were better if we camp in the open at the Boscery,

as we always do," said the Chief Forester. "With your per-
mission I will wait upon you and Their Majesties tomorrow
morning at the normal visiting time."

"That suits me," said the Princess Royal, turning her
forest pony to follow the young officer waiting to show
them the way. Murdan lagged behind a moment.

"Listen, Colonel! If word gets out prematurely, I shall
know immediately who leaked it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Most clear. Lord Historian! No one shall learn the news

from me."

Murdan nodded in satisfaction, pulled his hood back

over his face, waved farewell to the foresters, and fol-
lowed Manda, Momie, and the officer around the Pal-
ace named for Manda's great grandmother, who had
built it.

^27^
Trial and Errors

"THE Royal Historian has at last appeared," sneered Gantrell,
standing again before the throne in Session Hall. "I insist,
Lord King, that he either bring charges against my man
Brevory, or apologize for his slanders!"

"Anger is uncalled for. Lord Peter," warned Eduard,
coldly. "You push your prerogatives a bit too far and too

fast. There are other concerns the crown has here, not to
mention the concerns of our subjects who have petitions to
present."

"I happen to know that petitioning will end this after-
noon," said Gantrell, switching on a gracious smile. "Will
I be unreasonable if I ask that mine be considered tomor-
row?"

"Monday, rather," said the king mildly. "As you know,
Session Ball is tomorrow night and it's traditional to
adjourn for the day of the ball, to allow everyone time to
prepare."

"I again respectfully remind Your Majesty," added Peter,
now glaring at Murdan, who sat to one side of the dais with
Manda, "that I have a personal petition to present. I have
waited patiently in line, but I do not intend—"

"Careful!" said the Historian, raising his hand. "You may
say something you would not want on record for history to
read, m'lord."

"I am in control of my tongue!" snapped Gantrell. He
turned to the king, trying to smile smoothly again and
almost succeeding.

"I wish to settle the business of Brevory, as a matter
of pride and honor, sire, and I insist we shall discuss
the succession, a matter of utmost importance to us all,
including the abduction of the Princess Royal from my
brother's household last spring."

"We shall take up the charges against Sir Fredrick of
Brevory on Monday morning," the king decided. "And the
rest will be on the agenda at the very end of Session, as
it will depend on the outcome of the trial, in some part.
As for Manda, I have spoken to her as her father, and she
assures me no abduction occurred."

"We shall see about that!" snapped Gantrell, but he resu-
med his seat in the front row before the throne.

Eduard beckoned to Manda. She rose and bent over her
father, the better to hear his whisper.

"This young man of yours, Manda? Do you have any
idea how long he intends to be gone? Recapturing Brevory,
I mean."

"I'm sorry. Father. All I can tell you is that Tom's fully
aware of the need for haste. I trust him. Father!"

"As do I," agreed her father, patting her hand. "Well,

294 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION 295

the ball will give us another day of respite, but I can't put
Gantrell off past Monday, I'm afraid.

"Tom and Clem and Retruance have four days to find
the Sponge, then," said the princess, with more confidence
than she felt.

"Sponge?" Eduard chuckled. "Ah! Yes, I've heard that
man is entirely too fond of the bottle and cask."

"He is a sniveling, cowardly browbeater, a child stealer,
a constant whiner, a foulmouthed drunkard," Manda told
him levelly. "And a few other things for which I have no
evidence, merely hearsay."

The king threw his head back and laughed aloud. From
his seat on the floor, Peter of Gantrell turned from a con-
versation with three henchmen to scowl at Manda and the
Historian.

"Get you to Plaingirt at once," he ordered the tallest of
the three bullies. They were dressed for the road, booted
and spurred and armed with long sabers. "Brevory is a
damned nuisance at all times and now he is liable to be
a deadly embarrassment. Kill him and hide his body in the
mountains. Cover your tracks well!"

"Aye, m'lord!" said all three, and they paced arrogantly
from Session Hall.

RETRUANCE curled himself about the campfire while his
companions toasted buns and sausages furnished by the
foresters. The night was cold, smelling of autumn and sug-
gesting rain to come.

"I've been racking my so-called brain," said the Dra-
gon, "since we met, but I cannot deduce where Gantrell,
blast his liver and lights, would hide anyone, let alone
twenty-five soldiers, fifteen courtiers, and a drunkard."

They were camped on a south-facing hillside overlooking
the Royal Highway that wound north from the capital to the
mountains and the northeast frontier.

"Probably not on his own lands, even scattered as far
as they are," mused Clem, popping a hot sausage into his
mouth and following it with a last piece of bun.

"As far as Freddie's concerned, certainly not more than
a day's ride from the capital," Tom reasoned. "That limits
our search a little, anyway."

The other two were silent. They watched the fire bum

down to embers until the Dragon dozed and the young men
crawled into their blankets.

"We'll scribe an arc with the capital in the center,"
decided Tom, "and ask anyone we see if he's seen a large
body of men being marched anywhere at all."

"Uuumph," agreed the sleepy Dragon.

WELL after midnight the Librarian suddenly sat erect and
exclaimed aloud.

"What is it?" asked Clem, fully awake at once.

The Dragon emitted a puff of steam and smoke to show
he was awake, too.

"Listen, fellows! Peter wouldn't put them at one of his
own castles or farms. And he probably doesn't trust any of
his friends to hide them and keep silent, not even Granger,
for all he is a brother."

"Hardly an observation worthy of a rude awakening,"
grumbled Retruance.

"Who would he trust with such a matter? Someone he
can control? Someone he could distance himself from, if
the Overhallers are discovered?"

"Granted," said Clem. He placed a fresh billet of wood
on the embers. The log flared at once and the three realized
that it had begun to snow while they slept.

"I can think of only one kind of person he might trust,"
said Tom. "Someone bought and paid for. A mercenary!"

"The Mercenary Knights? It's worth looking into. You
may have guessed aright!" exclaimed Retruance. "But where
are they, anyway? I only see them wandering from job
to job."

"I guess only—that they would return home between
commissions. And the Chief of the Mercenary Knights at
Overhall—what was his name?"

"Basilicae!" said Retruance Constable.

"Yes! Basilicae said he would return to a place he called
Plaingirt. He said it was in the mountains—"

The Dragon interrupted. "Yes, I've heard of it. It's bit
more than two days' fast ride on horseback from Lexor."

"More like two days and then some. The town is off the
main road, hard to find," said Clem.

"But not for us!" cried the Librarian. "We can fly there
in a few hours, can't we?"

296 Don Callander

"Of course," said Retruance. He heaved his great bulk
gracefully to his four feet and stretched his wings, shaking
off a blanket of soft snow. "Shall we go now?"

There was nothing left to eat for breakfast, so they care-
fully drowned the campfire and climbed aboard the Dra-
gon' s brow, brushing away an inch-thick crust of wet snow
to clear their place.

"It's snowing harder and harder," observed Retruance.
He leaped into the air with a rush of cold wind and swirl
of ice crystals. "We'll have to fly lower down to make sure
we see the road."

"As I recall, this highroad forks not far north of here,"
said Clem, who had spent a number of afternoons, while
Tom attended the king and queen at Sweetwater Tower,
poring over the king's collection of charts and maps.

"Maybe we should return to Sweetwater and get some of
those maps," Tom suggested.

"No time! No use, either!" exclaimed Retruance. "The
way this snow is coming down, we'll have a hard time
finding landmarks, anyway."

The Dragon skimmed low over the foothills of the Snow
Mountains, between solid screens of hardwood forests. His
riders leaned out over the Dragon's eyebrows, as far as it
was safe, to scan the highway.

For the most part the road was empty, except for an
occasional farmer or wandering craftsman hastening home
ahead of the deepening snow. Once they had passed the
fork in the highway and taken the north-tending way, they
saw no one at all for an hour, until Tom pointed ahead.

Three horsemen rode doggedly against the north wind,
heads bowed to the driving snow. The wind whipped the
cloak from the foremost rider's back, flipping it high in
the air.

"The Standing Bear!" cried both Clem and the Dragon
in unison. "They are Gantrell men, for sure!"

Retruance was circling to pounce on the riders when
they noticed a fourth horseman, coming from the opposite
direction. The wind was at his back. As the Dragon pulled
up, the newcomer waved his arm and drew up, waiting
for the three Gantrell henchmen to come up to him. They
saluted him politely.

Hidden by the heavy fall of snow, Retruance glided

DRAGON COMPANION

297

silently behind a stand of fir just out of earshot of the
riders.

"By my tail feathers!" whispered Retruance. "That's
Plume, Murdan's comptroller. He wasn't with the party
that left for Lexor but he wasn't asleep at Overhall, either!
What is he doing here?"

"Being a traitor," growled Tom. "There's the culprit who
betrayed Manda and Murdan on the road from Lakehead, I
am sure of it!"

"He'll know where the Overhall folks and Brevory are
held, then," Clem snarled, "Let's take him!"

Said Tom, "Wait until he's alone again."

The Gantrell riders and the traitorous accountant spoke
briefly, then parted, going their opposite ways.

"Now!" cried Tom.

The Dragon made a great bound over the firs and landed
in the road in front of Plume's startled horse.

"Hold just a minute. Master Comptroller!" yelled the
Librarian. "We'd like a word with you!"

Plume tried to rein his mount about to flee, but the horse
slipped on the icy surface and fell heavily, screaming with
fright and throwing the miserable accountant neatly into a
snowdrift.

Tom and Clem leaped from the Dragon's head and fell
on Plume as he struggled to rise.

"He made me do it! Gantrell made me do it! He threat-
ened me with prison and torture," wailed Plume, letting his
body go limp. "Spare me, dear friends! Don't hurt me. I'm
but a pawn in Gantrell's game, please believe me. I dared
not say him no."

It took them several minutes to calm the hysterical sneak
enough to answer their questions, but when he realized at
last that they didn't intend to kill him on the spot, he rattled
off his whole sordid tale of deceit and treachery.

"Peter of Gantrell offered you a large sum of silver to
report on the doings at Overhall?" Tom recapitulated when
the man had finished and fell silent, weeping.

"Yes, yes, noble Librarian!" sobbed the comptroller. "All
I was supposed to do was write him a letter every week or so
and tell him what was done and said at Murdan's hearth."

"So last spring," guessed Retruance, "you told him I was
away, Murdan was off to Spring Session, and Princess

Z98

Don Callander

Manda was at Overhall, having run away from Granger
of Momingside. And you opened the postern to let the

Mercenary Knights in."

"I had no choice! No choice at all! It was worth my life

to refuse!"

"No doubt of that," said Tom to Clem.

"He could have gone to Murdan and confessed," said
Clem sternly. "I don't think the Historian would have had

him burned for it."

"And," Retruance went on, "when it came time for Fall

Session, Gantrell forced you unwillingly to lead his men-
at-arms to the North Shore Road to lie in ambush for
Murdan and the princess? I imagine Gantrell bought the

snowstorm from some magician or other?"
"Yes, wise and wonderful Dragon! He did. There was no

chance to it, that snow!"

"Nor this one, either," muttered Clem. "When one begins

to mess with climate, there's no telling what'11 follow. This
snow is even more unusual than the first, for who would
expect two such storms in a little over a week at this time
of year? It's going to lay down a yard or two before dark,

if I know anything at all about weather."

"You have yet to tell us where the Overhall people are
being held," Retruance growled menacingly to Plume.

"But Lord Murdan and the Princess Royal are not with
them!" cried Plume. "They were taken elsewhere. I don't

really know where, believe me."

"We're more interested in someone else," said Tom.

"B-B-Brevory?"

"That you've guessed so quickly shows you are not as
ignorant of Gantrell's plans as you pretend," the Dragon
charged angrily, snorting a short, hot flame at the groveling

villain.

"Oh, mercy, mercy! Lord Dragon! The soldiers and

Brevory and the Overhall household are held by the
Mercenary Knights in Plaingirt! I swear it! It's but a half
day's ride of here. I've just come from there."
Tom was surprised. "Gantrell holds Freddie prisoner?"
"Truly, Lord Librarian! He is held in a cell at Lord
Peter's bidding. He weeps and curses all day and half the

night."

"He may have good reason," said Clem thoughtfully.

DRAGON COMPANION         299

"Who were the three you met on this road a while back?"

The comptroller gulped, "They were sent by Lord Peter
to ... to ... slay Brevory, they told me. Those three are
Gantrell's hired killers! Sirs, may I go before night catches
me on this lonely road? I could be of assistance to you,
perhaps. I could spy on Gantrell for you, couldn't I?"

"Now doubly a traitor! We should leave you here to
freeze, rather," growled Clem. "I recommend it, Tom."

Tom considered what to do while the weak little man
howled pitifully, pleading for his life.

"Let him go. Here, Plume, I am going to give you a note
to Murdan, telling him you have told us all you know. Take
it to the Historian in Lexor and throw yourself on his mercy.
We'll leave it to him to decide the fate of a back-stabbing

servant!"

"Won't he just go running to Gantrell, though?" won-
dered Retruance. "Or run away altogether?"

"I doubt it. With Murdan he has a good chance of staying
alive. With Peter of Gantrell, Plume is dead meat, even if
he tries to run or hide. Gantrell will find him. He knows
too much!"

The Dragon caught the accountant's horse. Clem and
Tom hoisted the half-fainting Plume into the saddle and
tied his feet to the stirrups so he couldn't fall off.

"Get going!" Tom ordered. Clem slapped the horse sharp-
ly on the rump. The poor mare shot off down the highway
as fast as she could go.

"He'll not make it in this weather," said Clem, with some
satisfaction.

"He may have sense enough to stop at a farmhouse or
an inn between here and there," Retruance responded.

"This snow is a blessing, at any rate," said Tom. The
men remounted the Dragon and hung on while Retruance
launched himself into the blizzard.

"Why a blessing?" called the Dragon, steaming north
once more.

"We'll reach Plaingirt long before those assassins do,"
Tom explained. "Take Freddie the Sponge away from the
Mercenary Knights, take care of the Overhall bunch, and
be back in Lexor in time for the trial."

Retruance devoted all his energy to beating across the
wind, and his attention to following the faint trace of high-

300

DRAGON COMPANION          301

Don Callander

way. In the snow they caught no sight of the three killers,
but wasted no time looking for them.

A lone woodcutter on the ragged edge of the forest
welcomed them to his hut, although apprehensive about the
Dragon, as one might expect. He said the fortified village
of Plaingirt was only two miles farther on.

"You can't miss it, even in this mess," he claimed. " 'Tis
on the highest hill in front of the Snows and has a wooden
tower in the center you can see for miles and miles—even
from here, on a clear day."

Even so, the Dragon flew around the area for half an hour
before spotting the tower and the palisaded village.

"Direct approach is the best," Tom decided. "Clem and I
will go straight through the front gate and demand Basilicae' s
prisoners. Retruance, circle overhead, just in case he tries
something funny."

"Give me a shout," snorted the Dragon, "and I'll knock
that rickety tower down about their ears with one swipe!"

MERCENARIES don't stay alive and healthy by acting like
fools, especially when it comes to recognizing superior
force like a fire-breathing, full-grown Dragon swooping
back and forth over their rooftops. Basilicae quickly agreed
to cooperate, although his troop outnumbered his enemies,

twenty to one.

"Now, as soon as the sun rises, you will escort the
Overhallers to Lexor" Tom ordered. "In the meanwhile,
you will treat them like long-lost cousins, understand? See
them safe at Lexor before you leave them."

"Agreed," replied the Mercenary Knights' captain with
alacrity. Retruance dived straight for the tower, swerving
just in time to miss it by a hair. The whole structure
trembled in the wind of his passing and the lookouts caught
on top cried out in fear.

"We'll take your other prisoner with us, bound securely,"

Clem told the knight.

"No loss there! A damned pain in the posterior," said
one of Basilicae's lieutenants.

"One thing else," added Tom. "Tomorrow three Gantrell
killers will come straggling in. They've orders to murder
Brevory in his cell. Whatever you want to do with them is
your business, just keep them from returning to Gantrell."

Basilicae shook his head in doubt.

"Murder is not our style, I swear. But Gantrell is techni-
cally our employer," he argued. "If we hinder his minions,
he has grounds for abrogation."

"That's your problem. Sir Basilicae," said Tom shortly.
"As far as King, Historian, Princess, the Dragon, and I are
concerned, your contract with Peter of Gantrell is already
void anyway."

"I think," said Basilicae, "that it's time to move on to a
milder climate."

"We can use three new recruits," murmured his second-
in-command. "A bit of Knights' discipline should whip
them into shape. They might even find they prefer us to
Gantrell."

"Whatever you wish," sighed Tom. "If you were to ask
me, which you didn't, I'd say vacating Carolna would be
good business policy for your company. Gantrell will no
longer be able to afford a private army. No other noble will
want you."

"You're right on all counts," Basilicae agreed. "Lieuten-
ant, get the drunkard and a length of good hemp rope to
lash him to the Dragon's back."

AFTER the snow had fallen to great depth all of Friday—
Session Ball had been postponed—and all of Saturday,
the weather turned arctic cold and high winds rose, drifting
the snow against walls and between buildings to fifteen
and twenty feet deep, forcing many Lexorans to use their
second-story windows to leave their houses.

By Sunday morning the city was buried. Everyone stayed
snugly indoors, played parlor games, read to each other,
or slept, and therefore didn't see when the hostages from
Plaingirt were dropped at the northeast gate by their escort.
They were sent at once to Murdan's town house behind
Manda Palace.

Dr. Arcolas, Murdan's private magician and physician,
the senior member of the captive Overhall party, came to
report after he'd had a chance to eat and thaw out from
the trek.

"I confirmed early on that this second storm was actually
but the second half of the first, master. Peter of Gantrell
outsmarted himself, I should say."

302               Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

303

"It's a good thing you're a passable physician, Arcolas,"
Murdan grumbled. "As a magician you stink! You should
have warned me before we left home!"

"Oh, sir!" The physician assumed a hurt expression. "The
snow was the product of strong, very strong, magic. It took
me days to discern that it was magical, as it is."

Murdan grudgingly apologized for his sharp words. Mag-
ic was neither a certain science nor an easy art. The Histo-
rian was restless and anxious, awaiting the resumption of
Session, now set for Tuesday. The Session Ball had been
moved to Monday night.

Tom and Clem had come early Saturday to place their
prisoner in a dry but rather chill dungeon under Manda
Palace, his guards sworn to secrecy. Fredrick of Brevory
was told of the three assassins sent to silence him. He'd
been, ever since, uncharacteristically quiet and sober.

"It's very hard to imagine even Uncle Peter ordering
anyone's murder," sighed the princess. "I know he's often
wicked and sometimes very cruel. . . but this is plain evil!"

"Take our word on it," Clem insisted. "He intended
to wipe all trace of Freddie the Sponge from the world!
Those men are professional killers. They'd killed before,
for Gantrell's pay and for robbery on their own."

"We're still rather naive," said Tom, taking Manda's
hand. They'd hardly been apart since he'd returned. "I'm
afraid we've both got to learn to be tougher at times,
sweetheart. Speaking of which—sweethearts, that is—how
are the twins and the queen?"

"Oh, absolutely splendid!" cried Manda, jumping to her
feet. "Come on, let's go see them. My stepmother has been
asking for you ever since I arrived alone."

All that remained, Tom said to Clem, was to survive the
ball on Monday night, which at least gave them something
to do while they waited for Tuesday.

"I don't see why I have to go to the ball," wailed the fur
trapper of Broken Land. "I'm a nobody! I never learned
manners. Why, I can't even dance!"

"You'll leam," Momie insisted gleefully. "If you want
me to share your life from now on, sir, you must put up
with mine at times."

"Wait 'til I get you out to my forest cabin!" Clem threat-
ened. "We'll see how quickly you leam new ways!"

"I've seen you glide like a jungle cat through the very
densest woods without making a single sound," his lady
scolded good-naturedly. "You can certainly do a few simple
dance steps with me as partner."

"The thought of you as partner makes it all possible,"
moaned her trapper. "Very well! We shall do it until I get
it right—or drop!"

The tailor and seamstresses of Overhall were busy with
Tom's final fittings. On Monday evening he found himself
decked out in emerald green velveteen knee britches, a
shimmering silk coat of bright canary yellow and emerald
buttons, black slippers of supple kid, snow white hose, and
heavily starched shirt that ended everywhere he looked in
froths of lace. Even he had to admit that he looked splendid,
however.

"You are without a doubt the most handsome man in

Carolna," cried Manda when he came to escort her to
the ball.

The weather had suddenly turned warm Sunday after-
noon. The streets of the city became rivers rushing down
to the harbor. Dr. Arcolas predicted that the water would all
be drained by Monday's sunset. They rode in carriages the
short distance to Session Hall, no longer a solemn meeting
place but magically transformed into a ballroom by ten
thousand beeswax candles in glittering crystal reflectors,
a fifty-piece string orchestra, graceful autumn-toned swags
and draperies, and tables laden with the tastiest, fanciest
creations of twenty chefs.

"Don't eat the lemon meringues!" hissed Arcolas to Tom

and Manda when they danced by. "A Gantrell chef made
'em."

"Too late!" Tom laughed. "I already had two. They are
superb!"

To no ill effect, it turned out. Peter's cook's lemon
meringues were the crown jewels of the dessert table, but
Gantrell himself appeared only long enough to show cold
courtesy to the king, queen, and delegates, and then disap-
peared, a fact commented upon at every hand all evening.

SOMEHOW the Historian's party managed to get a few hours
of sleep between the last quadrille and the opening of
Session on Tuesday morning. More than a few delegates

304

Don Callander

DRAGON COMPANION

305

struggled to hide yawns and winces from aching heads.

Tom and Clem took places beside Ffallmar and Rosemary
to one side of the dais. Gantrell and a party of wealthy fol-
lowers entered in a body and took their places near the front
of the hall, looking neither to left nor right, frowning from
more than just too much drinking, dining, and dancing.

"He's making a bad show of this," said Clem, with some
glee. "You'd think he'd at least pretend to be glad things
are coming to a head, for appearance sake."

"Peter is not nearly as sophisticated as he'd like us to
believe," commented Ffallmar with a chuckle. "He's the
kind who has to be in control—and here, the King is very
much in charge."

"Murdan swears Peter had no idea we'd returned, or what
we'd done," said Tom. "Thanks to his messing with the
weather, communications are not too good .. . unless you
have a Dragon to fly you around."

"Where is Retruance Constable?" wondered Rosemary,
looking about with curiosity.

"He said he'd be here," Tom told her.

King Eduard and Queen Beatrix arrived at the main
entrance and walked slowly down the long aisle to the
dais, nodding pleasantly and speaking to delegates as they
came, smiling broadly at the applause that erupted, once
again, at their appearance.

Eduard seated his queen in her gold chair and picked up
the Wand of Justice before he addressed the assembly.

"Good morning! We hope you enjoyed the ball last night.
This Session is called to order and I believe the proceed-
ings today will make you forget your aching heads and
sleepy eyes."

He allowed the murmurs and groans to die down before
going on, a natural master of ceremonies, calm and pleasant

yet serious under it all.

"A Court of Royal Justice is now convened to hear the
indictment of one Fredrick of Brevory, a liege man of
Lord Peter of Gantrell. We call upon the Royal Historian,
Murdan of Overhall, to lay his charges before the court."

The Historian stood and walked to the open space between
the throne and the audience, looking grave and angry. With-
out preamble he launched into a vivid description of the
events of early summertime, beginning with his return

from Spring Session and ending with a description of
the pursuit and capture of the kidnappers by his Librarian
and the Princess Royal Alix Amanda, accompanied by stout
friends and the Dragon Retruance Constable.

"In Wall, a city on your far northwest, beyond Broken
Land, Majesty, the rescue party found my daughter and her
three youngsters prisoners aboard a ship.

"The ship bore a blazon known on both coasts as the
Standing Bear, the blazon of the Gantrell fleet."

Now the crowd roared in surprise, shouting to each other

and to Murdan. The king rapped the wand sharply on the
dais floor.

"The Librarian and the Broken Land trapper went aboard
the flagship of Gantrell's Quietness Ocean flotilla and found
my daughter and her children in a cabin, under guard. They
rescued the captives and managed to capture, in turn, the
Gantrell henchman who had carried them all the way from
Summer Pass!"

Peter of Gantrell jumped to his feet, his face purple with

rage.

"Base lies! There were no Gantrell ships at Wall at that
time. I know nothing of a kidnapping."

"I don't believe," said Eduard, softly, "that anyone
has ... yet.. . accused you of anything. Lord Peter. At any
rate, you'll get your chance to reply and explain, shortly."

He turned back to the Historian.

"Go on. Lord Murdan. Who was the kidnapper?"

Murdan identified the culprit by name and Achieve-
ment. The delegates insisted on cheering the outcome of
the adventure, waving and nodding to Tom and Clem.
Manda, from her seat on the dais, smiled dazzlingly, and
Lady Rosemary lay her hand on Tom's shoulder, so no one
would mistake who had been her rescuer.

"This ends my indictment," said Murdan in a loud voice,
"I am at the court's pleasure."

"The court will hear your witnesses, and then hear any
rebuttal anyone cares to present," decided the king. "Bring
before us the Lady Rosemary of Ffallmar!"

Murdan seated himself and watched proudly as Rosemary
left her seat to come to the dais. She was in high color but
fully in control of herself. Manda nodded to her in encour-
agement, and the queen echoed the smile and the nod.

306 Don Callander

"Lady Rosemary of Ffallmar?" the King asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I am she."

"Do you. Rosemary of Ffallmar, swear what you are
about to testify to is the truth, and all the truth?" a clerk
intoned.

"I do, sire!" said Rosemary, nodding her head emphati-
cally.

"Tell the court, lady, in your own words, what happened
last spring," said Eduard. "Get the lady a chair, please. She
need not stand to testify."

Rosemary sat down and began.

"I was visiting Overhall, where I had grown up and had
many friends, because I had received a message from my
father through his trusted comptroller, saying that he wanted
me to be there when he returned from Lexor. I took my
three small children with me as a holiday."

The Historian's daughter told her story in detail, adding
observations that Murdan himself had not mentioned. When
she finished, Eduard leaned far forward and smiled kindly
at her.

"You are able to confirm that the man known as Fredrick
of Brevory was the chief kidnapper? There was no other in
charge of the misdeed?"

"Oh, yes, Freddie was in charge. None of the seamen
liked or trusted him, but they were obliged to obey him
because he had some sort of commission from someone to
whom the officers of the ships owed obedience."

"Can you say who that someone was?" asked the king.

"No, I never heard them say nor saw his commission. I
assumed, however, that it was Peter of Gantrell.. . ."

"I object most strongly!" cried Peter, jumping to his feet
again.

"I assure you. Lord Peter, that I won't overlook the
hearsay nature of this part of the lady's testimony," the
king said, giving Gantrell a sharp look.

"Lord King!" cried Gantrell, struggling to regain his
composure, "I merely object to hearing my name bandied
about like this. I know nothing of this lady's capture or
treatment. And Fredrick of Brevory, for whom I would
normally have furnished legal assistance and support, has
not seen fit to be present. His guilt or innocence is not my
concern! But my name is!"

DRAGON COMPANION         307

"You will have time to rebut, if you please," repeated
the king. "Now we must continue hearing the testimony,
in order to know what to look for in any testimony that
may be offered by Brevory or his representatives. Do you
understand. Lord Peter?"

"Perfectly, Your Majesty!" choked Peter, and he sat down,
looking rather smug and sure of himself now.

The court called Clem and Tom to testify. Both con-
firmed the story and answered a few questions about the

chase and the rescue. The audience hung on their every
word.

"Had you previously ever met or had pointed out to you

the man known to you as Fredrick of Brevory?" the king
asked Clem.

"No, I never met him or saw him or heard of him before
we captured him in Wall, Lord King!"

"So how did you learn who he was?"

"When we captured him he called himself by that name,
as well as did those around him who had served him."

"But you have no way of knowing if he actually was

Fredrick of Brevory, except that he claimed that was his
name?"

"I had no reason to doubt it. Lord King," Clem pointed

out. "But no, I cannot swear that he was actually the man
he said he was."

"Ha!" snorted Gantrell loud enough for all to hear.
When it was Tom's turn, the king asked much the same
questions, including those about the kidnapper's identity.
Tom had to admit that he just assumed the culprit had told
the truth about his identity.

"For the record. Master Librarian, is it true that you are
a human?"

Tom was surprised. The king and he had discussed his
humanity at length and he knew it was common knowledge
in the court and the city.

"I am a human, born of the world called Earth," he
answered slowly. "I am not at all sure what that means here
in Carolna. I find very few differences between most natives
of this world and natives of my own home world."

"I know no reason myself why a human should be consid-
ered more or less than the rest of us," said the king. "I have
looked at the laws handed down through fifty-four previous

308 Don Callander

reigns and nowhere does it appear that a human, living in
Carolna, gainfully employed, of good reputation and good
behavior, should not be considered our subject and a citi-
zen of this kingdom. You have accepted the professional
contract from our Historian, Murdan of Overhall, to be his
personal Librarian, I understand."

"Yes, Majesty," said Tom.

"And I challenge anyone to say you have not served
Murdan well," the king said with satisfaction. "Thank you,
Master Librarian. You may sit down."

For a long minute Eduard paused with his hand to his
chin, thinking. Whispers and murmurs spread throughout
the courtroom.

"This case pivots on the identity of one Fredrick of
Brevory, the accused. We will attempt to establish the fact
of his identity, first, and mayhap in doing so, clear up the
question of his liege lord's responsibility in the matter."

He nodded in a friendly fashion, it seemed, at Gantrell,
then said simply: "Bring in the accused!"

The side door swung wide. A very sober, shaken, and
frightened Fredrick of Brevory entered and bowed deeply
to the king. The whole assembly gasped. Not least in this
were many influential men seated about Gantrell.

"You are Fredrick of Brevory, whose Achievement lies
just fifteen miles west of here?" asked Eduard when order
had been restored.

"Yes, sire. Majesty, I am he!"

"Is there anyone present who gainsays this man's iden-
tity?" the king asked. No one spoke. Brevory was well
known.

"The court inquires if any disinterested party present can
positively confirm this man's claim to be Brevory," said the
king, looking out over the assemblage.

Several men raised their hands at once. The king pointed
at one.

"You, Fillip Widemead. I believe you to be a man of
integrity and honesty. Do you confirm this man's identity?"

"Aye, Your Majesty!" said the man singled out. "I've
known Brevory for all his young life. His Achievement is
athwart mine. He hunted and schooled with my sons. His
mother is a distant cousin of mine. I confirm that he is who
he says he is."

DRAGON COMPANION

309

"Very good, then. Sir Fillip. Anyone else?"
Several other men present echoed Sir Fillip's words.
Eduard asked, letting his eyes fall upon the glowering

countenance of Peter of Gantrell. "You, Lord Peter?"
"He is Fredrick of Brevory, but. . ."
"Lord Peter! I have a question or two for the accused, and

then we will hear what you have to say in the matter."
Brevory had stood at attention all this time, with no

expression on his face at all. The king gestured to him

now.

"Fredrick of Brevory! You have sworn liege to Lord
Peter of Gantrell?"

The accused was seen to take a deep breath and let it out
slowly.

"I was. Lord King. I am no longer! The bond between
us has been severed."

Uproar in the hall. The king allowed it to run its course
before continuing.

"Fredrick of Brevory! A bond of loyalty to one's liege
lord is not easily broken. Why do you say you no longer
owe Gantrell your service?"

"He sent three assassins to kill me, to prevent me from

appearing at this trial," said Freddie. "Such an attack severs

any bond of fealty ever entered into."
This time the hall was stunned to silence.
"So it does," agreed Eduard Ten with finality. "Will you

now tell us your part in the kidnapping of Lady Rosemary

of Ffallmar, and especially under whose orders you acted.

These events took place while you were still in Lord Peter's
service, I take it?"

"Yes, Majesty, they did. I was ordered to waylay Lady
Rosemary and her children in Summer Pass and carry them
to Wall, where I was to take them aboard the flagship of
the Gantrell fleet. I was ordered to do this by the Lord of
Gantrell, personally, by word of mouth!" claimed Freddie,
pointing at Peter ... or at where Peter should have been.

"He's gone!" cried Manda.

"By magic!" said Beatrix. "For he was there but a short
moment ago!"

^28^
Achievement Awards

"BUT where is Peter?" Queen Beatrix asked worriedly.

They were sitting in the queen's music room. The snow
was all but gone and the weather cool and crisp. The
lindens along the waterfront were antique gold against a
background of riffled blue water.

"Are you sure he's left Carolna?" asked the queen.

"Not yet. These things take time, ma'am," said the His-
torian.

"I'll not rest easy until we know where he is and what
he's up to," murmured Beatrix, resuming her needlepoint
work. "No, my dear princess, you've dropped a stitch,
there."

"How do you see it so well?" cried Manda in exaspera-
tion. "You're ten feet away and can see a dropped stitch,
and I'm right here and miss it!"

Session had ended with great ceremony and pomp. The
king's last act had been to declare perpetual banishment
against Peter of Gantrell and the sequestration of his prop-
erties, to be held by the crown until his enormous debts had
been paid and his legal heir determined.

Tom and Clem left these deliberations to others and were
watching Graham drill his men-at-arms in the courtyard of
the Historian's town house when a Dragon dropped like a
stone from the sky.

"Furbetrance!" Tom shouted. "Old friend! Welcome!"

"Warmest greetings!" cried Retruance's brother, waving
a claw at Graham and the soldiers. "Hetabelle and our five
kits are an hour behind me. I came ahead to make sure
there's room for all these Dragon bodies in Lexor."

"There's always room for more Dragons in Murdan's
house," said Tom. "Check with Mistress Grumble. That's
her department."

DRAGON COMPANION         311

"And my brother? Where is he?"

"Murdan had him watching outside during the trial of
Freddie of Brevory," Clem told him. "When Peter whisked
himself away by a magic spell of some sort, Retruance

followed him. We haven't seen or heard from him for some

days."

"The trial is over and Gantrell flown! I need some catch-
ing up, friends."

"Let's send for Murdan," suggested Tom, "and sit here
in the sun and tell our tales."
And they did.

"I was tiring ofstitchery and wedding talk, anyway," said
the Historian, arriving somewhat out of breath but beaming
to see the younger Constable. "You're just in time to see the
procession and awards," he added to Furbetrance. "I hope
Retruance will return in time. The parade's at high noon
tomorrow."

"What can we do? For of course, Hetabelle and the kits
will want to help."

"Walk just behind my carriage, one by one, and blow
some fire and colored smoke. It'll make a brave show."

"I've got a better idea," suggested Tom. "All the Dra-
gons can fly in formation over the parade. That'll be a

splendid sight, especially if they show some fireworks at
the same time."

"Marvelous!" exclaimed Murdan, who loved parades
and fireworks as much as anyone. "Can you do that,
Furbetrance?"

"Not until you bring me up to date on current events,"
bargained the Dragon.

They sat side by side in the autumn afternoon sun with
their backs against a warm brick wall and told the younger

Constable everything that had happened since he'd left them
at Clem's cabin.

THE Grand Parade had evolved from a simple procession to
a grand spectacle, traveling from Manda Palace to Session
Hall, officially to close the Session. This one went off won-
derfully well by everyone's standards.

Noble houses, wealthy knights, and merchants competed
to put the most splendidly accoutred marchers in the line.
Craft guilds poured a great deal of time and money into

312 Don Callander

twelve-horse floats bedecked with rich fabrics and semi-
precious jewels that told stories from the kingdom's col-
orful past.

Ladies rode in ornate carriages, dressed in their most
sumptuously elaborate gowns—-fortunately the weather was
cool and clear for them—and children walked the route in
vast troops, singing and dancing, clad in brightly colored,
homemade costumes.

Everyone agreed that the most spectacular display of all
was the flying Constable family.

Retruance, Furbetrance, Hetabelle, and her five lively
youngsters—one boy and four girls—began the air show
with a flashing flyover, roaring down the length of Grand
Avenue at rooftop level at tremendous speed. Spectators
craned their necks, and cried aloud in surprise and awe until
they recognized the great scaled fliers, then they cheered
lustily, for Dragons were very popular now.

When the Dragons returned over the parade route,
Retruance led them in a series of breathtaking rolls,
dives, inside and outside loops, and upside-down flying
patterns in perfect order, releasing great streams of red,
yellow, pink, black, and green smoke. The parade came
to a halt to watch, and only resumed, amid wild applause,
when Retruance led his brother and his family to a perch
on the roof of Session Hall to watch the rest of the parade
themselves.

THE king addressed the assemblage with the great doors
flung wide and the windows all open, so that everyone
could hear and see. He was interrupted constantly by thun-
derous applause from delegates within and spectators with-
out.

He said: "Friends, countrymen, thralls, thanes, and clergy,
even Dragons! [Applause.] Despite some very serious prob-
lems, this Fall Session has been brought to a successful
conclusion.

"The royal succession is settled and agreed upon by all
[applause and cheering] ... I have every expectation of
living and ruling yet for many years [wild applause]...
but when I decide to abdicate, or if I should die [shouts
of 'No! No!'] .. . Well, we're all mortal, and these things
must be considered, you know! If I leave the Trusslo throne

DRAGON COMPANION         313

for any reason, the crown will pass to my son, Ednoll.
Beyond him, should he die without issue, the crown passes
to his half sister, Alix Amanda [cheers, especially from the
ladies] and to any issue of her line. If Princess Manda's line
fails, the throne and the crown go back to Princess Royal
Amelia, Ednoll's twin.

"If, by mischance, Ednoll is still a minor when I depart
this life ['No! No!' again, louder]... his regent will be
his half sister Alix Amanda, assisted by our Royal Historian,
Murdan of Overhall [upwelling of applause for Murdan,
much admired after the events of the past weeks]....

"The crown declares the question of a regency for Prin-
cess Royal Alix Amanda, who is still a minor by but a year,
is a dead issue. Manda is her own woman."

Eduard and his queen then brought their twin infants into
public view for the very first time. Barely four weeks old,
the two slept peacefully in their double cradle despite the
uproar of cheers and applause from all sides. If there were
some who doubted the fitness of Beatrix to be queen,
their doubts were forgotten. Beatrix glowed beautifully with
pride and happiness at their acceptance of her babes—and
herself.

"One last rite remains," resumed Eduard, holding up the
Wand of Justice to still the crowd after the cradle had been
carried off, "before we adjourn until spring.

"It is meet and right that the crown recognize, reward,
and commend those who have rendered particularly valu-
able service to us, my family, and the people of Carolna."

The crowd fell silent, for the King's Medal awards were
always kept very secret until the king announced them at
this final sitting of Session, each fall.

"The honors list is even now being posted on the doors
of Alix Amanda Palace," said the king, and sure enough,
everyone could hear the distant sound of hammering. "It
contains more than fifty names, from all walks of Carolnan
life, all recognized for outstanding service.

"One young man on the list deserves special mention, in
addition to his medal.

"For his bravery, intelligence, diligence, loyalty, and
ready wit. For providing a model for young men every-
where. For his staunch, brave, and timely rescue of Lady
Rosemary of Ffallmar, as well as his steady support of and

314 Don Callander

good counsel to our daughter. Princess Royal Alix Amanda,
I joyfully present the King's Medal and our special gratitude
to Librarian Thomas Whitehead of Iowa and Overhall!"

Tom was pushed forward to stand before the dais, blush-
ing furiously. The applause went on and on, until the king
again raised the slender wand and the accolade at last
subsided.

"In addition, I'm pleased to announce that Thomas of
Iowa and Overhall has won the love of our daughter. Prin-
cess Manda. I now publish aloud their betrothal. In celebra-
tion of their marriage, I dub him .. . Knight of the Royal
Household!"

The acclaim seemed unending. Tom grinned, bowed, and
waved even though he felt a little foolish for doing so, until
he caught a glimpse of the very dignified Constable family
leaning over the edge of an open skylight in the roof above
the throne, cheering with the best of them.

"And," resumed Eduard, waving the wand back and forth,
"Sir Thomas, having no property other than his good strong
arm and ready mind, and having been chosen consort by a
princess of royal blood, we do hereby invest him with an
Achievement, to be his, and his heirs' and their heirs',
forever!"

This news stunned Tom, who had no idea that the king
planned to make such a gift. Manda left the dais and ran to
his side, hugging him and shedding tears of joy and smiles
of love.

Queen Beatrix came down and led Tom and Manda up
the steps to the throne, where the king embraced them both
and beamed happily as they accepted the continued cheering
and shrill whistles of the multitude.

"I DON'T deserve any of it," Tom protested when Session
had been officially closed. They had retired to Alix Amanda
Palace for tea and cake and friendly conversation where it
was warm and quiet.

"Nonsense!" cried Eduard, who had gratefully shed his
gold-braided, jeweled Robe of State, put aside the Wand of
Justice, and sent the massive crown of the Trussloes back
to the royal treasury. He'd slipped into a plain, comfortable
everyday coat. "You've earned our love and gratitude, as
well as Manda's."

DRAGON COMPANION         315

"I've no hesitation about Manda," exclaimed the Librar-
ian, "and I'm overwhelmed with pride to receive the King's
Medal. The knighthood, too, is most welcome, although

I've been treated like a belted knight ever since I arrived
in Carolna."

"I take that as a compliment, then," laughed Murdan,

"although I recall almost having you burned at the stake
the day we first met."

"Uncle, no!" cried Manda in horror.

"Well, he was rather upset that day," Tom said in the
Historian's defense.

"He was a Dragon Companion, already, too. There was
no way I would have let Murdan bum him," said Retruance
from the window through which he'd pushed his head.

"Well, I was just lucky," said Tom.

"It's much better to be good and lucky than just good,"

put in Queen Beatrix. "I'd like to add my persona] thanks,
Sir Thomas..."

"Just 'Tom,' between us, please. Your Highness," Tom
cried.

"Tom in private, then," agreed the queen. "I was lonely
and desperate and very much afraid for myself, my babies,
and my husband, also, when you came to Sweetwater Tow-
er. My husband and I were bound and strangling in stifling
traditions and foolish restrictions. You set us free! You gave

me fresh air, sunshine, and a sense of my true worth once
again."

"Just some gardening and some tomatoes," said Tom, and
they all laughed heartily at his words.

Tom bowed deeply to the king. "I just don't feel that I've
earned an Achievement of my own by what I've done, or
just because Manda and I are to marry."

Said Eduard, "Are you claiming you're not capable, or
not willing, or not worthy? Why do you object to the gift?"

Manda, close beside Tom, looked at him wonderingly,
trying to understand what he was saying.

"No, no! It's... I feel... well, they're called Achieve-
ments, you see. I've achieved so little! I just came along
for the adventure and because I liked Murdan from the first,
and Retruance. And, of course, Manda!"

The king laughed and the others joined in, except Manda,
who took Tom's hands.

316 Don Callander

"Father, if my young man has a fault, it is overmodesty,"
she said, not taking her eyes from Tom's. "He forgets that
he will have to support a Princess Royal, so he needs the
income of a fruitful piece of land. His vote and voice will
be needed in future Sessions, too, and for that he'll need
an Achievement. Princesses Royal, my dear, do not come
cheaply!"

"It's the future that makes me hand out Achievements,"
the king explained frankly. "I need to keep good men—and
women—around me to ensure the future of the kingdom.
If I need you, I must provide for you a place to call your
home, where you'll be happy and content and at peace.
History . .. well, Murdan can lecture us on that. Carolna,
although a peaceful nation that minds its own business, has
been at war with someone or other for at least two-thirds of
its recorded history. Isn't that right. Historian?"

"Correct, Majesty, and the role of Historian is to make
sure kings and their followers don't make the same mistakes
over and over again."

"I see," said Tom. "I once read that if we don't leam
from history, we are condemned to repeat it."

Somehow—Tom never understood quite how—a wed-
ding date was set for the spring to come and at once Manda
and Momie—who would wed Clem of Broken Land—
plunged into plans for a royal wedding. They were joined
enthusiastically by Beatrix, Rosemary, and Manda's aunt,
Lady Phyllis of Momingside, Granger Gantrell's pleasantly
plump wife.

Granger, on Manda's recommendation, had been declared
his brother's sole heir. The king thus gained a loyal ally—
in fact, a large number of allies from among those who had
once followed Peter of Gantrell.

"Some of 'em I wouldn't trust with a fishing pole,"
Eduard confided. "But Granger can keep those in line. Or
at least, keep an eye on them for me."

Refinance was busy tracing the disappeared Peter of
Gantrell. The Dragon finally managed to track down the
wizard who had sold Gantrell the vanishing spell. The mage
couldn't say where Peter might have gone.

The king cried in exasperation, "I must know where
Gantrell is and what he is about. He's a danger to the
tranquility of the realm!"

DRAGON COMPANION         317

"We'll keep looking, sire," Retruance promised. "Tomor-
row, Tom and Clem and I will fly to the Frontier. We'll
make sure the Mercenary Knights have left Carolna as they
promised, and give some attention to the garrisons of the
border forts. They might get complacent now things are
peaceful once more. Lord King!"

Eduard gave his permission readily, as much to give the
bridegrooms something useful to do as for any real benefit.
Tom said good-bye to Manda late one evening as they

walked hand in hand along the seawall below Sweetwater
Tower.

"You don't mind my running off like this?" Tom asked
anxiously.

"Of course not! You have things to do, and so do I. Not
that I won't miss you terribly, my Tom! But I'll console
myself with the joy of seeing you again, when you get
back. Be careful! I worry a lot."

"I worry about you stabbing yourself with a needle," Tom
teased. "I've seen you sew."

"Well, sir! I'm determined to make certain interesting

items of clothing all by myself. You and you alone shall
judge my skill!"

"You could find a more severe critic," Tom admitted.

"No one else will do!" she giggled, and threw herself
into his arms.

WINTER had already gripped the Frontier. The garrison
troops were bundled in woolens and furs and their breath
made clouds of white steam when they spoke. A major of
the Royal Guards greeted the travelers and showed Tom
and Clem to warm quarters. The Dragon had a comfortable
shelter the size of an airplane hangar awaiting him, with
four roaring fires to fend the frost.

"No one's come this way recently, unless you count
the weasely little man with a pass signed by Murdan the
Historian two weeks ago."

"Weasely little man?" Retruance said, his ears prick-
ing up with interest. "I think I know him. Did he give a
name?"

"No, he said his mission for Murdan prevented it. We
sent him on with a warm coat, for he wasn't dressed well
for our weather, even then."

318               Don Callander

"Plume, I bet!" cried Clem.

"Nobody else," agreed Tom. "He could forge Murdan's
signature and his seal, certainly. Well, good riddance!
Although I can't help but feel sony for Mistress Plume."

He recalled the lady's convenient disappearances when
he and Manda needed a moment alone in Middletower.

"If the man is capable of forging a powerful instrument
for safe passage," Retruance wondered aloud, "why would
he come this way? He could have gone south and been
warm as well as safe."

"What do you think?" asked Tom.

"I think he had a destination in mind. Or someone to

meet."

"But," objected the major, "there's nothing beyond here
save a few scattered Barbarians."

"Quite so," said Retruance. "I recall that Gantrell had
contacts among the Rellings, the self-proclaimed lords of
the Barbarians. I am considering a flight over their camp,
just to check my suspicions."

"Oh no! You mean we missed the first and second big-
gest quarry of the year?" moaned the major, striking his
forehead. "How will we explain that to the king!"

"Don't worry. Major. Gantrell used magic to transport
himself across the borders. And this Plume is a rascal of
the first water. No blame falls to you or your men. You
may say I said so, in your report."

The officer thanked the Dragon profusely, but still looked
worried and upset when he left them.

"Well, we'll have to keep our eyes on the Barbarians,
too," said Clem. "Who appointed me guardian of the king-
dom? I was better off as a plain old smelly fur trapper!"

"I have the king's charge to seek out Gantrell," Retruance
pointed out. "When I need you and Tom, I will call for help.

Agreed?"

"Anytime! Anytime at all!" said the woodsman with a

grin.

"WHAT gossip?" called the Dragon into an ice cave in
the side of a glacier, fifty miles northeast of the Frontier.
From within came a bad-tempered growl and there shortly
appeared a big bone-white head, hung with blue icicles and
splashed with dirty clumps of snow that looked like some
loathsome skin disease—or scale disease, in this case, for
the inhabitant of the cave was a Dragon.

"You come calling almighty early!" snarled the Ice Dra-
gon, puffing a cloud of frosted breath at his hot-bodied
cousin. "It isn't even November yet, by the gods of sleet
and icicles!"

"I was just passing this way, sort of reconnoitering for
Eduard Ten," Retruance explained. "Not many people I
know in these parts, so I took a chance on you being up."

"October, and he wants to be sociable!" grumped the ice
beast. "Argh!"

"I'll leave, then," offered Retruance, and he turned to go.
"Good winter, Hoarling!"

"Oh, damn!" swore Hoarling. "Wait. We'll talk awhile!
I am a wintry type, as you know, and waken in a foul mood
more often than not."

They repaired at the Ice Dragon's suggestion to a fro-
zen inlet covered by foot-thick ice. Hoarling smashed a
hole in the ice and fished for his breakfast while they
chatted. He didn't offer Retruance any of his catch but
gobbled them up as fast as he could snatch silvery cod
from the water.

"You've not had time yet to check on your neighbors,
then?" Retruance inquired politely.

"I keep an eye on them ... as they do on me," grunted
Hoarling. "We have no love for each other. If they weren't
so hot, I'd have eaten them all centuries ago. Yes, I scouted

320               Don Callander

around a few days ago. They were making a hellish great

racket for some reason."
"Well, then, did you hear of a Carolnan lordling in the

igloos of the Relling? I know he's there, but not exactly

where ... or why."

"Oh, you mean this Gantrell the Exile? Yes, I heard of

him from . . . private sources. He's sought sanctuary with

the Rollings, I'm told."

"And have they granted it to him?"

"I gather. I also gather that they had a prior agreement,
just in case Gantrell fled Carolna, as he did once before."

"What does he ask of the Grand Whatever, the Relling

leader?"

"You mean the Grand Blizzardmaker, which is what

he calls himself. Ha! Grand Windbag, I call him! These
piddling little elflings have grandiose ideas of themselves,
hey? How anyone can abide them is beyond me."

Retruance let the observation pass without comment. He
watched the Ice Dragon claw-snag and devour six more
large codfish in rapid succession before going on.

"The Rollings will suffer Lord Peter to stay among them,

you say?"

"They say he's sold the Flatulent Flounder on creating

a union with the other tribes. Hell, it's something they do
once every seven years. Usually ends in great betrayals,
name-callings, and carnages. Barbarians get along least well

with other Barbarians, you should know."

"Hmmm," said the hot Dragon, deep in thought. "Tell

me, Hoarling . . . what could I pay you to keep watch on
Peter of Gantrell for us? He's a thorn in our sides, I must

admit."

Hoarling popped two last twelve-pound cod into his rime-
rimmed mouth and crunched them thoughtfully while he

considered Retruance's offer.

"You think this Gantrell will try to mobilize the Barbar-
ians against Carolna?"

"I certainly think he'd like to"

"Damn all your hot-pots! Barbarians are better left to

their own nasty devices."
"I couldn't agree more."
"I'll keep an eye on your Gantrell and the Sacred Sardine

for you, cousin, and get word to you if they get snotty.

DRAGON COMPANION         321

In exchange, I'll ask a favor of you one day, Retruance
Constable."

"A blind favor? You're not that scrupulous, Hoarling,
that I would tie myself up with a knot like that."

"Gull droppings! It wouldn't be anything you couldn't in
conscience do, my friend. Hey, I'm not a nasty sort. But I
have enemies and I may someday need your fire and steam
to help me out of a tight spot."

Retruance thought about it for several moments as the
fishing hole in the sea inlet quickly refroze.

"Well, will you make a deal. Constable?"

"Yes, I will, but not to do anything that I think immoral
or illegal or cruel, you know."

"Understood! Then I shall go back to bed for a cou-
ple more weeks, until the weather improves. Gantrell and
Rellings won't do a thing but talk before spring, I guess."

The Dragons, fire and ice, touched front claws to seal
the bargain, and by sunrise Retruance was sound asleep in
the border outpost.