The Dragon in the Sword (25 page)

She had answered her question. We would go forward. She scarcely waited for us to agree before, the chart in her teeth, one hand on the tiller and the other on the boom cords, she was driving towards the roaring, unsettled heat.

I hardly knew what happened to us in those few minutes while Alisaard steered our boat. My impression was of wild, dangerous waves, hurling us back and forth so that we rocked as we surged up and down, of sharp rocks passing an inch from the hull, of the wind tearing into the sail and of Alisaard singing a strange, ululating song as she took our craft towards the crag.

The black opening of the sea-worn tunnel came in sight and we were swallowed at once. The sea boomed and screamed at us. The boat scraped first one wall and then the other. Alisaard’s song continued. It was a beautiful song. It was a defiant song. It was a challenge to the entire multiverse.

And then we were on a fresh current, being drawn out of the tunnel and towards Morandi Pag’s towering shard of rock. I looked up. The intense sunlight seemed to have been concentrated by some cosmic lens. At its strongest point it shone directly upon the white palace, revealing whole parts of it to be utterly ruined.

I was furious. I slammed my fist against the side of the boat. “We have risked all that for nothing. Morandi Pag is dead. Nobody has lived in that place for years!”

But Alisaard ignored me. With the same delicate precision she steered the dancing boat towards the crag. And there, suddenly, we saw a pool of placid water, surrounded by high walls, with only a single narrow entrance. It was through this that Alisaard aimed our boat. It was in this little enclave of tranquility that we at last found ourselves. The boat rocked gently against the harbour wall. Beyond that wall we could hear the roaring water, the screaming geysers, but it was muffled, seemingly a long way distant. Alisaard finished her song. Then she stood up in the boat and she cheered.

And we cheered, too. Never has anyone cheered so thankfully.

The adrenaline was still running through us. Even Alisaard showed no sign of exhaustion. She clambered rapidly up the rungs of the harbour wall and stood watching as we left the boat more carefully and eventually joined her.

“There,” she said, indicating a flight of steps and an opening beyond, “we are at the entrance to Morandi Pag’s castle.”

Ulric von Bek looked out to where the sea still foamed. He said quietly: “I pray this Pag has devised a better way of leaving his stronghold. I am already feeling anxiety about our return voyage!”

Alisaard strode ahead of us, her ivory armour shedding the last of the sea water. She began to call Morandi Pag’s name.

Von Bek laughed suddenly. “She should tell them we’re from the funeral company. That old bear has been dead for years. Look at the condition of this place.”

Alisaard began to speak a version of the same proclamation she had made outside the caves of Adelstane. “We are peaceful travellers, enemies of your enemies. We shall enter your home, knowing that you have not forbidden us that privilege.”

She paused. There was no response.

Together the three of us passed through the cracked and mildewed entrance which, to our surprise, led immediately upon a set of steps going downwards into the rock.

The steps crept steadily down. Outside we could hear the distant groaning and murmuring of the waves. The place had a musty smell. I thought I detected a snuffling sound, of the kind Groaffer Rolm had made. It came from below.

And then, all at once, I grinned. My grin was shared by my companions.

For from the darkness at our feet there began to curl a thick, greenish smoke, its perfume so strong we were almost sickened by it.

“I think an Ursine Prince makes ready to bid us welcome.” It was von Bek who expressed this. Alisaard chuckled appreciatively. I thought her response excessive.

Through this voluminous cloud we now progressed until we had at last reached a small archway. From the other side of this we made out tables, other furniture, books, ladders, instruments of all kinds, several different orreries, strange light from oddshaped lamps. And emerging slowly with a rolling, energetic kind of shuffle, came the huge bulk of Morandi Pag himself. He wore few clothes—a little decorative lace and embroidery—and was almost entirely white. His fur had once been black, I suspected. Now there was only grizzled black hair on his head and down the middle of his back.

His large, dark eyes held an alert, perhaps sardonic, curiosity missing in his peers. Yet there was also a strange light in them, a tendency for his gaze to wander away from what he had begun to look at, to focus on sights invisible to us. His voice was deep and comforting, though vaguer and richer than those of the other princes. His manner was, in short, evidently absent-minded. It was, however, as if he deliberately fostered this in himself; as if he feared to let his mind cohere. This was a great intelligence, but one which had received an enormous blow. I had seen such looks on the faces of survivors from a thousand different forms of outrage. Von Bek, also, noticed this. We exchanged a glance.

Morandi Pag seemed amiable. “More Mabden explorers, is it? Well, Mabden, be welcome. Do you chart these waters, as I once charted them?”

“We are not merchant adventurers, my lord,” said Alisaard calmly. “We are here because we hope to save the Six Realms from Chaos.”

There was a flash of awareness in those mild eyes. Then it was gone. Morandi Pag mumbled a tune through the remains of his teeth. He shuffled back towards his books and retorts. “I am old,” he said, without looking at us. “I am too old. I am probably half-crazed with knowledge. I am not of use to anyone.” He turned very quickly, almost glaring at me. And it was at me that he shouted. “You! It will come to you. It will come to you yet. My poor little Mabden.” He leaned against a bench on which a dozen burners had been placed. It was these which gave off the heavy perfume. “Knowledge ceases to be wisdom when one has no method for making sense or use of what one learns. Eh? It was probably inevitable. Eh?”

“Prince Morandi Pag,” said Alisaard urgently. “Our mission is what we say it is. Against Chaos and all that brings. Surely you would not hide something from us? Something crucial to our quest!”

“To protect,” he said, moving his snout up and down in confirmation of his own statement. “Only that. Yes.”

“Do you know where the Dragon Sword is?” von Bek asked him.

“Oh, yes. That. Of course I know. You may see it, if you wish. Below.” He sighed deeply. “Is that all? The old hellsword itself, hm? Yes, yes.” But his eyes had already wandered to a jar of blue glass on his table. Within it, some sort of firefly seemed to be dancing. The noise Morandi Pag made was one of gentle pleasure.

After a moment, he turned that enormous head towards us again. He seemed to deliberate for almost a minute. Then he said soberly, his voice quavering a little with age, “I am extremely frightened by what is happening. How can you three not be afraid, also?”

“Because, Prince Morandi Pag, we have yet to confront anything,” said von Bek. He spoke very softly indeed, as if he were gentling a horse.

“Ah!” said Morandi Pag, as if he found the explanation satisfactory. “Ah, you cannot imagine, cannot imagine…” He became distracted again. He began to murmur names, scraps of equations, lines of verse, much of it in languages we could not begin to understand. “La, la, la, la. Would you three share a little of what I have? Food was never the problem, as you may have heard. But…” He scratched at his left ear. He looked at us enquiringly.

“The Dragon Sword, Prince Morandi Pag,” Alisaard reminded him.

“Yes. You wish to see it? Yes. It is below.”

“Will you take us to it? Or shall we go ourselves?” she asked slowly. “What shall we do, Prince Morandi Pag?”

“See what you think.” He had forgotten our conversation already. He tapped at tubes and bottles. “La, la, la, la.”

Von Bek motioned towards a door on the other side of the room. “We must see what is through there. I am sorry to seem impolite, but we have little time.” He strode through parchments and tomes, abandoned instruments and piles of jars, each of which contained a mysterious substance, and put his fingers out towards the handle. He paused, looking enquiringly at Morandi Pag.

Eventually the old bear spoke. Again his voice was controlled, full of wise awareness. “You may go through there to look for it, if you wish.”

We had joined von Bek by the time he had begun to turn the handle. The door was not made of wood but of pock-marked rock, like pumice, multicoloured. There were designs carved into it. The designs were in the same style I had seen on the banners at Adelstane. I could not quite make out what they represented.

Without a creak or a protest, the door opened smoothly. The room beyond was small and circular, virtually a cupboard. Lamps flickered from within it. On shelves were packets, scrolls, boxes, jars, strawbound bottles and a number of objects whose function was obscure.

However, it was what hung from the central beam by means of a big brass hook which drew our attention. It was an ornamental cage, which, judging by the droppings on its sides and bottom, had once been used to hold an enormous bird.

But it no longer held a bird. Instead the captive who stared at us through the narrow bars was a small man. Dressed in what closely resembled medieval motley, he seemed thankful that we had come. There was no telling how long he had been there.

From behind us, Morandi Pag’s voice had grown vague again.

“Ah yes,” he said. “Now I remember where I hid the little Mabden.”

8

T
HE MAN IN
the cage was Jermays the Crooked. He recognised me almost at once and laughed aloud. “Well met, Sir Champion! I am glad to see you.”

Morandi Pag came shuffling up to fumble at the complicated lock. “I put him in there when I sighted your boat. That way any enemy would think him a slave or pet and not necessarily wish to destroy him.”

“Put me in there, I might add,” said Jermays without malice or anger, “against my protests. That’s the fifth time you’ve had me in that damned cage, Prince Pag. Don’t you ever remember?”

“Have I put you there before?”

“Almost every time you’ve spotted a boat.” Jermays clambered with his usual agility from the cage and dropped to the floor. He looked up at me. “Congratulations, Sir Champion. Yours is the first to get through undamaged. You must be a skilled helmsman.

“The credit is all the Lady Alisaard’s. She is an expert at the tiller.”

Jermays bowed to the Gheestenheemer. The young dwarf, on his bandy legs and with his thin, ginger beard, managed a certain dignity. She seemed charmed by him. Next he presented himself to Ulric von Bek. The two exchanged names.

“You already know my little Mabden?” said Morandi Pag in tones of absolute normality. “It will be wonderful for him to have others of his kind for company. You’re the Champion, I know. Yes, I know you are the Champion. Because…” And his eyes became strangely blank. He stood with his muzzle gaping, staring into the middle distance.

Jermays darted forward and took the old bear’s arm, leading him back to his chair. “He has too much in his head. Sometimes this happens.”

“You know him well?” asked Alisaard in some surprise.

“Oh, indeed. I have been his sole companion here for almost seventy years. I had no choice. In my present circumstances I do not seem to be able to roam through the realms at will, as I sometimes can. I have found every day stimulating, I must say. Now, you were looking for something.” He helped Morandi Pag slowly resume his seat. “I should like to assist.”

“Morandi Pag said he would show us the Dragon Sword,” von Bek told him.

“Oh, so he has spoken of the Scarlet Crystal? Yes, I know where that is to be found. Well, I can easily lead you down there, but we shall have to take Morandi Pag with us. For I am useless where spells are concerned. Will you give him a while to rest?”

“We are upon a desperate quest,” said Alisaard softly.

“We shall go now!” Morandi Pag rose suddenly, full of energy. “At once! It is urgent, you say? Very well. Come, you shall see the Dragon Sword!”

There was a narrow doorway at the back of the cupboard room where we had found Jermays. Morandi Pag led us through it, down two more spiraling flights. Now we could hear the sea booming and crashing all around us. It was so violent that we felt it must break down the rock walls and come flooding through.