Dragon Business, The (16 page)

“Then can we let Sir Dalbry come back to do the actual slaying? I’d prefer that.”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

Together, they ventured into the steamy dimness. King Norrimun breathed heavily, and his skin was wet both from perspiration and from the sulfurous vapors. Squinting into the murk, he did make out another scrap of Affonyl’s dress deeper inside the cave.

The king had never been so afraid, and he realized that given enough adrenaline, he just might be able to run faster than Duke Kerrl after all.

Deeper inside the cave, he heard a hissing, gurgling sound that surely must have been the dragon snoring, but he still couldn’t hear Affonyl’s voice. He turned to make sure the duke was close behind him.

Kerrl brought the pommel of his sword smashing onto the back of his head. The corpulent king collapsed to the cave floor with a crash loud enough to wake even a sleeping dragon.

Duke Kerrl froze at the unexpectedly loud sound, listening for movement. If the huge scaly thing came roaring after them, the monster would stumble upon a ready-made meal right there on its doorstep.

When no beast approached, though, Kerrl removed leather thongs he had stashed in his waistband and used them to lash the king’s wrists and ankles together. Now Norrimun couldn’t get away even after he woke, and the duke could take care of him later. He knew well enough not to count on a dragon to do the work for him.

Kerrl smiled. Now the dukingdom was all his.

A
FTER REEGER SET
off toward the cave’s side entrance to make final preparations, Sir Dalbry gave his armor a freshening so that he looked like a proper dragon slayer, while Cullin made his own way back to Old Snort to reconnoiter. He arrived just in time to watch King Norrimun and Duke Kerrl vanish into the cave.

He found that especially peculiar. While
Cullin
knew there was no dragon inside, he couldn’t believe the other two men would be so foolish . . . or brave? Either way, the current scheme had no room for additional would-be dragon slayers.

He crept forward, alert and suspicious. Outside the ominous lair, he spotted a scrap of blue fabric, a scarf he was sure he had seen on the floor of Princess Affonyl’s chamber after the explosion. How had that gotten there? It seemed unlikely—

Suddenly, he realized that Duke Kerrl must be perpetrating a ruse of his own. Had he sneaked away with one of Affonyl’s scarves so that he could use it to lure King Norrimun into the lair? Did he believe a dragon lurked inside?

Cullin hadn’t trusted the ambitious duke (and not just because he was a suitor for the beautiful princess). Kerrl was surely up to no good.

He tiptoed up to the cave mouth, following the two men. Sir Dalbry would arrive momentarily to publicly challenge the dragon, but Cullin couldn’t afford to wait.

Inside the dim passageway, he nearly ran into the duke, who was bending over King Norrimun’s unconscious, corpulent form. The startled duke lurched to his feet, and Cullin accused, “You just attacked the king!”

Kerrl’s white teeth flashed in the dimness, because his smile was so broad. “No, uh . . . he bumped his head. The dragon smacked him with its tail as it fled. He—”

How stupid did the duke think he was? He flicked his gaze to the unconscious king. “His hands and ankles are bound. Did the dragon do that, too?”

Cullin drew his practice sword and held it in front of him, looking intent and unwavering. He tried to imitate the intimidating poise of Sir Dalbry’s Raven on Corpse stance. Cullin was extremely skilled—at bluffing, if not at sword fighting.

Duke Kerrl glared at him, also holding out his sword, but he seemed just as reluctant to fight. For a long, tense moment, the two engaged in a sharp-edged duel of bluffing.

Outside, he heard Sir Dalbry stride up in front of the mouth of the lair, playing his role. “Foul dragon! I have come to slay you and avenge Princess Affonyl.”

Seeing no escape out the main entrance, Kerrl backed farther into the cave, and Cullin said, “Aren’t you worried about the dragon?”

The duke said, “There is no dragon. After Affonyl disappeared, I had a long and painful talk with old Mother Singra—painful for
her
, though I rather enjoyed it. Eventually, she confessed to the game she and the princess were playing. But I don’t know how you’re involved in it.”

Cullin yelled over his shoulder, “Dalbry, we’re in here! Duke Kerrl attacked the king and tied him up. I, uh, could use a hand.”

With a clank and jangle of chain mail and boots, Dalbry bounded into the cave. “I’m coming!”

Even if he believed the dragon was nonexistent, Duke Kerrl did not want to face two very real armed men with swords. He retreated deeper into the cave.

When Dalbry reached the unconscious Norrimun, Cullin sprang after Kerrl. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get away.”

Dalbry bent down. “And I shall save the king. It’s my chivalrous duty.” With a grunt, he started to drag the corpulent man out into the sunlight.

Running, Kerrl finally reached the central grotto, where thin rays of sunlight streamed through cracks in the ceiling. Warm mist thickened the air. When Cullin reached the chamber, he saw the hot spring pool that Reeger had described. The water bubbled and churned, belching out gasps of sulfur.

Cullin ran toward Kerrl, waving his sword in what was intended to be a threatening manner. Seeing that he had no place to go, the duke crouched. He looked around at the pool and the jagged walls just to make sure there was no dragon—sleeping, fire-breathing, or otherwise. “Where’s the princess? Where are you hiding her?”

Cullin couldn’t stop himself from making the obligatory explanations, even though he was not the story’s villain. “Affonyl is gone. She faked her own death to escape from marrying you.”

“That’s fine with me, boy. I didn’t want to marry her either. I got what I wanted. The king signed the paperwork. Our lands are now joined, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“If the king has you hanged, that would put an end to your inheritance.”

“Then I’ll have to finish the job—kill you, the fat king, and the old knight.”

“Good luck with that,” Cullin said.

“I’ve always been ambitious. Or instead, I could just expose your scam, and we’d see whose neck got stretched first. Or does this kingdom use the executioner’s axe? I forget the local regulations.”

Cullin remembered the corpse of the thief and rapist he had cut down from the tree. “It’s hanging.”

Duke Kerrl’s voice took on a more solicitous tone. “Maybe we can reach some sort of accord? We both have plenty to gain. Think about it: With King Norrimun gone, I’ll control the dukingdom’s entire treasury. You and I can agree on a story: I’ll say the dragon slew King Norrimun and Princess Affonyl, then we give Sir Dalbry credit for eliminating the monster. You’ll receive a large reward—double his usual fee. We all benefit.” He held out his hands. “Let’s be reasonable.”

Behind him, the hot spring began to bubble and stir, and more steam filled the chamber. Cullin had no idea how soon the geyser would erupt, but those symptoms made him uneasy. He didn’t want to stay there any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Through the mist, he spotted Reeger slipping in from the side, working his way into the grotto. He saw Cullin standing there with his practice sword and the evil-looking duke in an evil-looking pose.

As the hot pool gurgled, Cullin said, “I never claimed there was no dragon. Haven’t you seen the evidence? It’s well known that dragons sleep submerged in hot pools. That’s how they regenerate the fires in the gullet.”

Duke Kerrl sneered. “Don’t speak nonsense, boy! I know all about dragons. No minstrel has ever talked about hot pools. And the water would extinguish its fire—you know nothing about science.”

Reeger moved forward, unseen in the swirling fog.

Cullin stared at a fixed point behind the duke, widened his eyes. “Oh, no—there it is!” He raised his sword defensively and backed away. “We woke the dragon!”

Though he flinched, Duke Kerrl kept his gaze locked on his opponent even as the geyser bubbled and fumed behind him. “You don’t fool me, boy. I know what you’re trying to do.”

Cullin stepped backward. “It’s a dragon right behind you, Duke!”

Kerrl’s sword wavered from side to side, but he refused to let himself be tricked.

Right next to him, Reeger yelled, “
Boo!
”

The duke practically jumped out of his fine clothing and dropped his sword. The loud clang startled him even more. His boots skittered on the slimy floor, caught on a rock, and Duke Kerrl plunged backward into the boiling hot spring.

Reeger grabbed Cullin’s arm and pulled him out through the main passage. “
Move
, lad! The rustin’ geyser’s going to blow!”

The two bounced and ricocheted off the walls as they rushed toward the bright patch of daylight. Gasping for breath, they stumbled out into the blasted clearing, where Dalbry had deposited King Norrimun. The older knight was trying to rouse the corpulent king when Reeger and Cullin raced out, yelling a warning.

Dalbry propped up the groggy, half-conscious king just as the geyser erupted and sulfurous steam vomited out, drenching them with scalding moisture. They all tumbled off to the side, panting, exhausted, and terrified.

While the king remained stunned and disoriented, Dalbry jerked his chin at Reeger. “Better get out of sight—Cullin and I will make up a story.”

“Rust!
I’m
the one who’s best at making up stories.”

“We’ll do fine by ourselves.” Cullin nudged his friend. “But you’ll ruin everything if the king sees you.”

Grumbling and dripping, Reeger trudged off into the trees.

When King Norrimun finally awoke, he groaned, complaining about his split skull. Sir Dalbry said, “You’ve had quite an adventure. You were injured in the dragon attack, Sire.”

“Dragon attack?” The corpulent king struggled to get to his feet but managed no more than a sitting position before he clutched his head again. “What about Affonyl?”

“I’m afraid the princess is no more,” Cullin said. “We dragged you to safety . . . but, alas, when Duke Kerrl faced the monster, he, too, was slain.”

Norrimun groaned again, but not an entirely aggrieved groan, before he passed out again.

By the time they cleaned up the king and got him back to the horses, Cullin and Dalbry had concocted their story. According to their version of events, once Kerrl discovered that the princess had been eaten, the grief-stricken duke charged into the lair after the monster, while Dalbry and Cullin rescued the king. Norrimun awoke just in time to see the burst of fire, smoke, and steam as the duke battled the monster and was killed.

When reminded, Norrimun said he remembered every detail of that, including additional details that sounded right, due to his grogginess.

When the king fell unconscious again, Sir Dalbry had gone into the lair, dispatched the already-wounded dragon, and cut off its head. With somber gravity, Dalbry then revealed the patchy stuffed crocodile head, the last one from their supplies. “As you can see, Sire, the monster was bruised, battered, and damaged during its battle with me and Duke Kerrl.”

Norrimun considered the reptilian trophy, not looking terribly disappointed. “So, my princess is gone, and now Duke Kerrl is gone. At least the monster paid for killing those innocent victims.” He narrowed his eyes. “For the sake of history, though, I insist we say that
Duke Kerrl
is the one who slew the dragon. It’s only right to honor him in that way.”

Dalbry didn’t seem pleased, but accepted the necessity. “I suppose that would be a nice gesture.” Cullin agreed as well.

The king brightened. “And, thanks to the legal paperwork Duke Kerrl had me sign, the dukedom and the kingdom are merged. With the duke’s death,
I
now acquire all of his lands and wealth. Everybody wins. Yay!”

They saddled up and rode back to King Norrimun’s castle, having succeeded in their quest, albeit in a roundabout way. As they approached the castle, Sir Dalbry broached the important subject of remuneration. “Now that the monster is dead, might I request the promised honorarium, Your Majesty? The dragon would never have been slain without us.”

King Norrimun frowned at the knight. “Promised honorarium? I intended to have Sir Phineal do all the work.”

“But he did not, Majesty. That’s not what really happened. And you did agree. . .  .”

Norrimun sniffed. “Well, it seems to me that
Duke Kerrl
is the one who slew the dragon, and he’s the one who paid the ultimate price.”

Dalbry’s expression grew dark. “Again, Sire, that is not what really happened.”

Cullin pressed the matter. “Majesty, nobody wants two conflicting stories circulating among the minstrels. Sir Dalbry and I did participate in the heroic deed, and we are left with certain undeniable expenses. With your treasury so significantly increased by all of Kerrl’s wealth, surely you can part with a token reward for our trouble. And our silence.”

King Norrimun the Corpulent frowned. “Does your squire always speak so plainly for you, Sir Dalbry? Perhaps he needs a whipping.”

“Squire Cullin always speaks for me in financial matters.” Dalbry’s voice was clipped. “A squire is supposed to do his knight’s unpleasant work.”

In the end, Norrimun let them keep the horse, Drizzle, and the pony, Pony, and grudgingly gave them a small sack of gold coins, provided they rode away as soon as possible.