The Feline Wizard (42 page)

“That revenge was taken against the barbarians at first, you
may be sure!” Ginelur told him. “Olien, our ancestors' shaman, learned how to tame the dragons with his magic. We then had mounts more fearsome than the barbarians' horses, and have repelled every raid since.”

“Repelled, and taken slaves and warriors to sacrifice in our own turn, as they did to us!” Lugerin spat.

“How many centuries ago was this? Not much for holding a grudge, are you?”

“Our safety lies in our savagery!” Ginelur retorted. “The barbarians have not ridden against us in three generations, you may be sure!”

“So when you ran out of barbarians, you started in on random travelers.”

“Would they not loot and pillage if they had the chance?” Ginelur said defiantly.

“Not these two.” Matt nodded toward Anthony and Balkis. “And not quite a few others over the centuries, I'll wager. They would now, of course, after suffering your enslavement. Even gentle people tend to do to others what you've done to them. But if dragons are your strength, why were you afraid of Dimetrolas?”

“Because she grew far more than was acceptable,” Ginelur said. “Now and again one of the huge wild dragons would turn rogue and burn houses, even people—so our ancestors bred them to become smaller and more manageable.”

Stegoman spat an oath. “You robbed them not only of their freedom, but also of the size that was their birthright?”

“They were dangerous to us,” Lugerin said, flint-faced. “Therefore do we cast out the throwbacks who grow toward ancestral size.”

“Stand away, Matthew,” Stegoman growled. “He deserves burning. They all do.”

“There!” Lugerin pointed at Stegoman. “Do you see? If they can hurt us, they will!”

“Just like people?” Matt asked softly. “Any stranger might be a powerful wizard, is that it? So you trap them and enslave them to make sure they can't hurt you. Who do you choose for sacrifice—the ones who are big enough and strong enough to be threats?”

Lugerin flushed, but Ginelur said evenly, “They, and those who come riding, for any on horseback will surely attack us if they can.”

“Why? Because the barbarians who originally attacked your ancestors came mounted?” Matt shook his head. “Your whole culture is built on fear.”

“Indeed,” Stegoman rumbled. “I have seldom seen a band of fainthearts so devout in their cowardice.”

Lugerin reddened. “You would not say that if this sorcerer had not robbed us of our dragons!”

“If you had treated them well,” Dimetrolas retorted, “they would have become your friends, and no wizard could have robbed you of them by simply giving them their freedom.”

“Friends may turn against you, too.” But Ginelur was looking doubtful.

“Oh, friendship takes work, no doubt about it,” Matt said. “You have to treat each other well, you always have to be polite, you have to be there when they need you and vice versa. Sometimes you can even drift apart for a while just from having spent too much time together. But you can find ways to keep your alliance going, if it really means anything to you.”

“You shall have to now, in any case,” Dimetrolas called, “for your spells will no longer coerce your dragons!”

Lugerin brought the words up with great reluctance. “I shall apologize to your sorceress, if she will restore the power of our spells.”

“After you tried to capture her and enslave her?” Matt asked. “Who knows, maybe you meant even worse.”

Ginelur cast a dark glance at Lugerin.

“No, I don't see any reason why she should remove her freedom spell,” Matt said.

“But she must!” The words ripped out of Lugerin. “If she does not, the dragons are sure to destroy us!”

“They have old grudges to settle, too, huh?” Matt glanced at the dragon-cotes.

“Then we should let them come out and be about their business,” Stegoman rumbled. “That would be justice for any who sought to compel so wondrous a creature as Dimetrolas— and more than just recompense for her outcasting!”

Dimetrolas looked up at Stegoman with pleased surprise; then her eyes began to glow.

Matt was wary of glowing dragons. “I don't know, Old Smoky,” he called to Stegoman. “There is another side to the issue. Okay, the dragoneers enslaved your breed and cut them down to their own size—but the winged ones always had plenty to eat, and they certainly have multiplied. The humans even made them very secure roosts. If they just had the courage to trust the beasts, they might have a very profitable alliance here.”

Stegoman was silent. Dimetrolas burst out, “Such an alliance would require great changes in their ways! Can they bear it?”

“Well?” Matt looked from Ginelur to Lugerin and back. “Consider the alternative—a giant barbecue fueled by some very vengeful dragons. Even if we talk them into leaving you alone, you're going to find you have a lot of people with scores to settle—starting with your slaves. And if word gets out, the barbarians may come riding in to settle
their
old grudge.”

Lugerin paled. Ginelur looked up at him with anxiety, then asked, “What would the dragons want of us?”

“No slavery, that's for sure,” Matt said promptly. “Your dragons are already free, but you'd have to let your human slaves go, too.”

“Who, then, would till our fields!” Lugerin cried.

“Why,” said Matt, “you will. Have to do your own farming, I guess.”

Lugerin glared daggers at him but said nothing.

“And this matter of casting out must cease!” Dimetrolas snapped. “The dragons will not think of it if the humans do not urge it!”

“How should we deal with fifty-foot mounts?” Ginelur cried.

“The same way I do,” Matt said.

The dragoneers stared at Stegoman, then back at Matt, frankly disbelieving—but doubt of their ancestral ways stirred in their eyes.

Matt nourished it. “If you can make friends with twelve-foot dragons, you can make friends with fifty-footers. All it takes is honesty, sincerity, and the ability to keep a bargain.”

Lugerin still stood stiffly, but the doubt was growing. Ginelur glanced at him, then at Dimetrolas, and nodded slowly. “It might fare.” She called to Dimetrolas, “Do you wish this alliance?”

“It matters not to me,” Dimetrolas said with lofty carelessness, “for I shall not be here. But I shall warrant your safety while you parley.” She turned her head and called to the nearest dragon-cote. “Ho within! It is Dimetrolas who speaks! Let Brongaffer come forth to confer with the humans!”

The cote was silent.

“Come
now
” Stegoman thundered, “or you shall wither away in shame!”

Several heads poked out of doorways. “How now, drake?” said one. “Why should we wither, and what should be our shame?”

“Why,” said Stegoman, “if the humans you guard were to die at the hands of barbarians, you would be shamed through all the world of dragondom—and the news would travel, be
sure! As to why you would wither, you soft creatures who have let humans feed you and build your nests for hundreds of years—is there a one among you who can be sure of bringing home game to feed mate and hatchlings every night? Even if you could, where would you travel when you have eaten all the game in these hills? How will you live, if not in truce with these who have bred you?”

There was silence; then a tumult of conversation broke out in the dragon-cote—and in the other cotes all along the ledge.

Ginelur and Lugerin looked at one another in astonishment.

The ruckus died down, and one dragon came out of his cote. “I come, Dimetrolas.”

“I am your bond, Brongaffer,” she warned him. “Do not think to attack these humans who stand for parley.”

“I have not so little honor as that!” Brongaffer said indignantly.

“So, then,” Stegoman said softly, “these have learned human ways, too.”

“Is honor so human, then?” Dimetrolas asked in surprise.

“Honor is of humans, yes. Pride is of dragons.”

“Then I, too, have something of human ways.”

Stegoman's head whipped about to stare at her, then his mouth lolled open in a dragon's smile. “You do indeed.”

Brongaffer spread his wings, sprang into the air, and landed ten feet from Lugerin and Ginelur. “What speech would you have with me, mayor and broodmaster?”

“I would suggest,” Ginelur said, “that we make a pact between dragons and dragoneers, Brongaffer—your backs and wings in exchange for the works of our hands.”

“The two folk together are far stronger than either one alone,” Matt pointed out. “In fact, if you can work out a functional agreement, I suspect Prester John would be delighted to have you join his army as an aerial corps.”

“Work for hire?” Lugerin cried indignantly.

“No—swear fealty as vassals.” Matt turned to Brongaffer. “You might even be able to gain wealth of your own by setting up an express delivery service for the emperor—you'd certainly be the fastest way for him to communicate with his kings
and governors. You might even be able to open a transportation service, carrying diplomats to and from Maracanda.”

“Why should we wish to serve in so menial a fashion?” Brongaffer said disdainfully.

“To get rich. You could charge exorbitant rates, after all— say, ten head of cattle for each message delivered. Of course, after a while you'd have to build a lot of barns to hold them all and spend hours and hours tending them—so maybe you'd prefer to take a few pieces of gold instead of the cattle. That way, you could always buy dinner.”

Brongaffer looked thoughtful.

“Well, I'll leave you to sort it out for yourselves. No cheating, now—and no attacking while my back is turned.”

He sauntered over to Stegoman and Dimetrolas but glanced back after a few paces. The humans were already deep in discussion with the dragons' emissary.

He came up to his old friend and his new one and said, “Score one more for the benefits of commerce.”

“They shall hammer out a bargain,” Stegoman agreed.

“I hate to admit the truth of it,” Dimetrolas said, “but these humans have provided well for their dragons.”

“The dragons have a lot to lose if they burn the hands that build for them,” Matt agreed.

“If they ally, though,” said Stegoman, “will they not be a danger to any other travelers who happen by?”

“If they get that far,” Matt said, “I'll start bargaining again. I'll extract a promise to parley before attacking strangers, unless those strangers are clearly a war party. If the dragoneers want to charge tolls, all well and good, but no raiding and no more enslaving.”

“Why should they obey you?” Dimetrolas demanded.

“Because I'm the Lord Wizard of Merovence. They don't know that yet, but they'll pay attention once they do. I can make some pretty dire threats, especially if I claim I have Balkis to back me up.”

Dimetrolas considered this.

“No, I won't deliver the dragon equivalent of itching powder,” Matt said quickly. “You've punished them enough already.”

“Punished them?” Dimetrolas stared at him. “How?”

“Pride is very important to dragons,” Matt reminded. “The adolescent they cast out just came back with a bigger, meaner drake than any of them and made them all behave. You handed them a thorough humiliation, lady. Worse, you turned right around and did them a favor—you helped enforce the truce, and one of the people you were defending freed them from the dragoneers' spells, so they can't even hate you for attacking. How's that for humiliation?”

Dimetrolas' eyes gleamed as she raised her head proudly. “I have had my revenge, haven't I?”

“You have indeed,” said Stegoman. “The one they scorned become their champion? I would say you have!”

“With some help, of course.” But Dimetrolas seemed suddenly both coy and arrogant. “The other females mocked me and told me a great lump like myself could never find a mate—and I have come back with one grander and stronger and wiser than any of them!”

Stegoman visibly swelled under her regard. Nonetheless, he reminded her, “We are not yet mated.”

“Shall we not amend that soon?” Dimetrolas said, her voice low and pulsing.

Matt decided it was time to see how Anthony and Balkis were doing. He strolled back to them and said, “Looks like the dragons and the riders will work things out. We'll just wait until they make a bargain and see that they sign a formal treaty, then fly on home. Can we offer you two a ride?”

Balkis cast a quick glance at Anthony, then gave Matt a look that was almost furtive. “I thank you, Lord Wizard, but—” Her eyes seemed to plead. “—I may not have set out to come to know my mother's homeland, but I have found it most instructive and… rewarding.” She took Anthony's hand by reflex. “I am sure there are more wonders in store, more kinds of people to meet between this place and Maracanda, and I would like to come to know them all. By your leave, we will continue on our way as we were.”

“But to fly …” Anthony gazed at Stegoman with mingled fear and excitement.

“We'll give you a chance when you reach Maracanda,”
Matt promised. He had his own ideas about whom Balkis wanted to come to know better before she made it back to her uncle's capital. “Sure, you two walk and we'll fly along. I'll go tell Stegoman what's going on.”

He walked a bit more slowly as he passed Brongaffer and the humans, listening a moment to their spirited exchange: