Norton, Andre - Anthology (45 page)

 
          
 
"I brought that along myself," Flax
snapped. "I required Gilmont's opinion of it."

 
          
 
Walgur regarded Flax with an insolent stare.
"I have heard of you," he spat. "You are Flax, the Farmer's

 
          
 
Friend. 'Acquired' that figure, did you?
Perhaps from beyond the portal— my portal, which you deliberately sealed when
you escaped from my castle after clashing with Trund. Where is my minion, by
the way?"

 
          
 
"Eaten," said Otwill. Walgur waited,
but Otwill refused to elaborate further.

 
          
 
Walgur waved a sharp-nailed hand. "Trund
was a bungling fool," he declared dismissively. "I am well rid of
him. But you, Flax of the Hedgerows, and you, Otwill of Zachor—you insinuated
yourselves onto my property. You interfered with my spells. You spitefully
rendered inaccessible the valuable portal that I had gone to considerable
effort to locate. I demand that you remove your closure spell so that I may
utilize my rightful possession!"

 
          
 
"I think not," Flax retorted.
"Otwill and I can assure you from our personal experience in the realm
beyond that portal, it is a thoroughly uncongenial place. We are unalterably
resolved that no future crossings shall be made."

 
          
 
Walgur glowered at the wizards. "You
insufferable meddlers," he roared, "that is for me to decide! I have
overwhelming means to accomplish my desires. No man dares to thwart me. I warn
you—you oppose me at your mortal peril!" With a furious gesture and a
shouted word that made Drop shiver, Walgur vanished in a cloud of vile-smelling
smoke.

 
          
 
Sneezing, Flax and Otwill magically dispersed
the fumes.

 
          
 
"Gilmont," Flax said, "I must
apologize for this distressing abuse of your hospitality. I had no idea that
Walgur would assail you because of our actions. Just before the portal closed
in Walgur's castle, however, we did call through it to advise Drop to seek you.
No doubt Walgur had impressed a security spell upon his tower room, and he must
have retrieved your name from it."

 
          
 
Otwill laughed ruefully. "What would
Walgur say if he knew that there is now no way to return to that
other-space?" he wondered. "Our exit through Gilmont's splendid
mirror was made possible only because of Gilmont's attraction spell. Unless a
magic-wielder exerted a similar attraction spell from the other-space, no
further transits can be made by way of the mirror."

 
          
 
His face grave, Flax paced restlessly. "I
must confess to a certain apprehension concerning Walgur's threat," he
conceded. "We should consider at once how best to defend this house from
magical assault." He paused, stricken by a secondary worry. "Neither
can we neglect our efforts to restore Koron," he added. "I recall
among the potions at my cottage a certain preparation that might be effective.
Still, I feel most strongly that I should stay here to assist with our primary
defensive spells." Flax turned to address the cat. "Drop, once again
we must rely upon you for a vital contribution. You remember when you last
helped me to reorganize my potions, there was a slender amber glass bottle with
a red wax seal containing Arbat's Agent—next to Helver's extracts?"

 
          
 
Drop nodded.

 
          
 
Flax beamed. "Excellent! That is the very
bottle that I require."

 
          
 
Gilmont looked puzzled. "But your cottage
lies many days' travel from here, Flax," he objected. "How can your
cat fetch this potion back to us in time to be useful?"

 
          
 
"By employing your exceptional
mirror," Flax began in a cheerful tone, then stopped and frowned.
"Otwill," he inquired anxiously, "you are still wearing your
mind-touch medallion?"

 
          
 
"Of course." Otwill lifted his beard
and extracted a small shell-shaped talisman strung on a silver neck chain.

 
          
 
Relieved, Flax again smiled. Delving into one
of his robe's many pockets, h^ produced a matching pendant. "This is
Koron's medallion,"' he explained to Gilmont, "which I fortuitously
picked up after its chain broke during his struggle with Trund. Had it remained
around Koron's neck, it would also have been turned to glass." He
pronounced a quiet word to repair the severed chain, then remarked, "If I
secure this around Drop's neck— so—it will preserve the link necessary for me
to project and retrieve him through the mirror."

 
          
 
"You will want to provide a container
into which

 
          
 
Drop can nudge the potion bottle in order to
bring it back,” advised Otvvill.

 
          
 
Gilmont rummaged through several drawers in
his desk. "My cook lately presented me with some of his herb-gathering
bags fitted with drawstrings," he said. "Yes, here they are. Pray
choose whichever size will accommodate your potion."

 
          
 
Suitably outfitted with both a carrying bag
and Koron's medallion, Drop preceded Flax up the stairs to the attic. While
Flax chanted from a prudent distance near the storeroom's door, Drop
impatiently awaited some indication that the mirror's surface was becoming
penetrable. He had just persuaded himself that he could barely detect the
familiar jumbled outlines of Flax's study beyond the glass when Flax called,
"Jump NOW!"

 
          
 
Drop pounced forward. His actual translation
through the mirror produced a most peculiar sensation, rather like diving
headlong into a tepid pool choked with water lily pads. Before he could take a
second breath, Drop had penetrated the barrier. His fully extended claws
gripped the uneven flooring of the wizard's cottage.

 
          
 
Drop ran straight to Flax's desk, his cat's
eyes easily adjusting to the dimness of the tightly shuttered study. Although
his ability to distinguish colors was far more restricted than a human's, Drop
quickly located the bottle Flax had described. Any problem he might have had in
identifying its colors was eliminated when he spied Flax's neatly lettered
label proclaiming "Arbat's Softening Agent." As Drop maneuvered the
slender bottle into his carrying bag, he sneezed violently.

 
          
 
That reaction—and the odor that occasioned
it—instantly reminded Drop of the previous time when, in his boy form, he had
similarly sneezed. He had been helping Flax sort and distribute his potions
among the multitude of cubbyholes surmounting the desktop. Flax had said it was
no wonder Drop sneezed, because Helver was famed for his lavish use of volatile
herbs and essences. The wizard had waved one squat vial, which even to Drop's sadly
limited human nose fairly reeked of oil of peppermint, and said, "Here is
the source of your understandable irritation: Helver's Seemings Exchange
Potion.

 
          
 
I've never tried it myself. Rarely needed, I
should think, but doubtless useful under certain circumstances."

 
          
 
Always curious, Drop had asked, "What
circumstances?"

 
          
 
"Suppose that you and I had assumed
magical disguises in order to accomplish a dangerous mission," Flax had
replied. "At some point, to mislead the enemy, it could be quite advantageous
for us to exchange disguises. By applying this potion, our magically-imposed
outward appearances—even our clothing—could be simultaneously exchanged. The
only drawback, as I recall, is that a drench of water must be provided right
away, either before or after the potion—a stricture which could attract
undesired notice unless a drying spell could be adroitly employed to dispose of
the water."

 
          
 
Acting on a sudden impulse, Drop carefully
batted Helver's vial into his carrying bag. He had no sooner jumped down from
the desk than he sensed Flax's mental voice conveyed by Koron's medallion.

 
          
 
"Drop," Flax instructed, "if
you have secured the potion, return at once to the spot where you first entered
the room. Upon the count of twenty, I shall draw you back here."

 
          
 
Drop's tail had only just cleared the surface
of the mirror when enormous gusts of wind accompanied by lashing rain battered
Gilmont's house from all directions. Thunder crashed overhead, and a barrage of
hailstones hammered upon the roof.

 
          
 
"Quick! To the study," Flax cried.
"Walgur's attack has begun!"

 
          
 
Otwill and Gilmont were crouched well to one
side of the closed study window, seeking to assess Walgur's offensive forces.
So far, the shielding spells that Flax had coordinated appeared to be holding.
Although relays of gargoyles alternating with basilisks gibbered at the window,
none of them could break through to touch the physical surface of the house.
Baleful pillars of ocherous fire flared intermittently in the garden,
disclosing a host of long-fanged goblins whose efforts to bombard the house
with volleys of stones and darts were being equally thwarted.

 
          
 
Flax had stooped to remove Koron's medallion
and the fabric bag from Drop's neck when Gilmont complained, "Surely a
sorcerer of Walgur's supposed repute is capable of more original spells than
these."

 
          
 
Flax glanced briefly at the teeming activity
in the garden. "We must beware of underestimating a Druzanian," he
began, then stopped, staring at the two containers he had extracted from Drop's
carrying bag. "Drop," he reproved, "I requested only Arbat's
Agent, yet you've also brought .. ."

 
          
 
He was cut short by an urgent shout from
Otwill. "Look! Under that door—a dark vapor—it could be poisonous!"

 
          
 
Flax promptly set both retrieved potions on
the low table beside Koron's settee, and spun around to deal with the new
threat. While he intoned a primary spell, Otwill contributed a compatible
secondary formula to repel Walgur's lethal fog.

 
          
 
From Drop's point of view, the sorcerer's next
attack was far more personally engaging: a veritable plague of rats erupted
simultaneously from all corners of the room. To Drop's keen disappointment,
however, no matter how swiftly he snapped every rat neck he could seize, each
"killed" rat instantly reverted into the dust motes from which it had
been conjured.

 
          
 
A suspicious lull followed that frenzied burst
of activity. Drop had almost regained his breath when his fur suddenly bristled
as if a lightning bolt had struck within paw-reach. He realized with horrid
certainty that Walgur had somehow breached their magical defenses and had again
invaded Gilmont's house.

 
          
 
His face drawrt with horrified comprehension,
Otwill pointed toward the attic. "Flax," he exclaimed, "we
forgot that Gilmont's mirror constitutes a potential fissure in our
encapsulation spell!"

 
          
 
Flax immediately conjured a glowing network of
blue light strands across the top of the stairs just as Walgur charged out of
the upstairs corridor. The sorcerer was forced to skid to an abrupt halt to
avoid collision with Flax's barrier.

 
          
 
A desperately risky plan began to form in
Drop's mind as he warily beheld their raging adversary. If only he could rely
upon Walgur's preoccupation with the humans, plus a sufficient quantity of
water . .. Gilmont's sole domestic practice of active magic provided numerous
vases of flowers to decorate his house. Periodically, his spell would refresh
them with nourishing changes of herb-steeped water. One such tall vase filled
with autumn lilies stood on a pedestal against the wall at the top of the
stairs. For the success of his plan, it was necessary that Drop's prime target,
Walgur, must move closer to that side of the upper landing. Koron, Drop's
second target, already lay conveniently accessible.