The Feline Wizard (51 page)

“I wouldn't exactly say she's alone,” Matt demurred. “In fact, I think she'll never be alone again.”

“If she lives! Will you go?”

“I guess I'd better.” Matt recited,

The world blurred. When it cleared, he found he could see nearly three hundred sixty degrees, but it was horribly distorted. It took him a few seconds to learn to interpret the visual images, to discover what the grainy substance was beneath his feet. The spell had taken him literally; he was a fly, and the wall was the canvas side of a tent.

The snakeman had lied, of course—instead of a whole pride of lions, there were only two, standing as proudly as though they were guarding a library on either side of a pedestal which held a three-inch stone that appeared to be only polished quartz. But Anthony had faced a lion before, and materialized with a sword in his hand.

Balkis struck one lion down with a paw the size of a manhole cover even as Anthony, with the element of surprise on his side, slashed the throat of the other with a mighty blow. The beast tried to roar and charged anyway, but Balkis danced aside, and the beast collapsed, its blood spattering the stone.

Something tore the tent away, exposing them to a ring of snakemen and monsters who screamed and charged them— but Balkis was already chanting,

“We shall fly with nothing lost!” Anthony finished.

The giant cat and her rider shimmered, grew translucent, then disappeared a split second before the first monster reached them. As it did, the stone burst into flame.

Matt could feel the wave of heat. He didn't stay to watch what happened, just repeated Balkis' escape spell in his buzzing voice. The world went fuzzy; then he was falling toward a giant purple cat with a rider on her back, facing an armored man with a crown on his helmet. Mart's wings spread automatically, and he buzzed,

To his friends, he must have seemed to appear out of thin air as he fell, landing in a crouch.

“I tell you, he did send himself after you!” Prince Tashih pointed at Matt.

“I do not doubt you, cousin.” Basso Balkis blinked at Matt. “What happened to you, Lord Wizard?”

“I just decided to buzz off.”

Wings boomed, horses screamed, and two dragons landed just behind the army. As sergeants and riders fought to control men and horses, Stegoman boomed, “When you call me, Matthew, be so good as to stay where you are until I arrive. It has taken us many minutes to find you.”

“Sorry about that,” Matt said, abashed. “They needed me in a hurry here.”

“I do not doubt it. What is that bonfire out on the plain?”

“I had wondered that myself” Prester John said, staring at the fountain of flame that towered above them. They could hear screams and cries beneath its crackling. “You lit the fire-stone, did you not, my niece?”

“No, I did, Majesty,” Anthony said, chagrined. “I had not intended—”

“It is well that you did,” Prester John said.

Prince Tashih smiled. “Better here than in the midst of Mara-canda, is it not?”

“Most surely,” Prester John agreed.

“I saw a great number of broiling snakes as I flew over them.” Stegoman wrinkled his nose. “Horrid smell, and the turbulence was abominable! There were other creatures burning like torches—there must have been a great deal of fat in them—but many more were fleeing, and thousands upon thousands of snakes streaked away across the plain.”

“It is strange that many of them burst into flame as they fled,” said Dimetrolas, “even though they were a thousand feet from the pyre, and more.”

“Kala Nag should really learn some self-control,” Matt said. “She's burning up her army in frustration.”

“I fear that snakes reproduce very quickly.” Prester John sighed. “And she shall have many more warriors in a year's time, or less. This conflict is not ended, Lord Wizard, only postponed.”

“Well, at least we know what she's planning now,” Matt said brightly. “Not the details, maybe, but enough to be on guard.”

Prester John frowned at the fountain of fire. “We cannot have that torch burning forever upon the plain”

“Perhaps we can fly over it with vats of water and dump them upon it for you,” Stegoman suggested.

“It is very good of you to offer, excellent beast,” the emperor acknowledged, “but fire will not quench this stone.”

“What will?” Stegoman asked.

Several people started to answer, then caught themselves in time.

“What?” Stegoman glowered at all the humans about him. “What is this you do not wish me to hear?”

“Understand, we're not asking anything of you,” Matt said quickly, “but… uh … the only thing that will put out that fire is dragon's blood.”

“
N-o-o-o-o!”
Stegoman roared, rearing back and contributing some fire of his own.

The humans jumped away from the jet, gibbering in terror.

Dimetrolas scowled at her fiance. “What is this, searing serpent? Do you fear to shed a few drops in a good cause?”

Stegoman huffed, trying to find the right words, but Matt got there ahead of him. “It's a phobia of his, dragon lady—a terrible, deeply rooted fear. It goes back to the first few minutes after he kicked his way out of the egg, when a hatchling-hunter caught him.”

“A hatchling-hunter! One who sought to catch small dragons, that he might sell their blood to sorcerers?”

“The very same,” Matt told her.

Prester John shuddered. “I cannot blame the beast—I have an antipathy for people who want my blood, too.”

“It goes with the office,” Matt agreed.

“However,” Prince Tashih pointed out, “that would not stop you from shedding every drop if you thought it necessary to protect your people.”

“It is one thing to give of one's own blood,” Dimetrolas told them, “but another to have it drained from you.”

Matt blinked; he hadn't expected compassion from the acerbic Dimetrolas.

She surprised him, though. She turned to Stegoman and said, “Poor little fellow that you were! Small wonder you are horrified at the prospect of being cut! This at least I may do for you, dear drake.” With that, she launched and pounded her way into the sky.

“Dimetrolas! Wait! Beware the updrafts!” Stegoman sprang into the sky right behind her.

“We should aid,” the giant purple cat boomed to Matt.

“I think they've got the situation under control.” Matt gazed after the flying couple. “In fact, if they come out of this all right, I think it will do wonders for their relationship … Would you do me a favor, princess? Change back into a woman?”

“Oh. Yes, my form is rather disconcerting.” Balkis began to shrink and reshape herself. Anthony leaped off hastily.

Matt didn't bother watching the transformation; he'd seen it before. He watched the two winged forms sailing over the plain, then suddenly rocking and plunging in the updrafts from the blaze. He couldn't see exactly what happened, but
the fire began to die even before the two dragons turned and came sailing back.

They landed in a booming of huge wings, and Stegoman bellowed, “Quickly! Heal her wound, wizard, for I would not have her die even as the flames do!”

Matt ran forward and caught Dimetrolas' foreleg. He winced at the sight of the ragged wound but started reciting the healing spell.

Even as he chanted, Stegoman exulted, “She is the bravest of the brave! Over the very blaze she flew and cut herself with her own claw! Through scale and leathery hide she slashed, then watched a pint of her very own fluid of life fall into the flames! They die even now—but she must not!”

“Fret not, Flame Flier,” Dimetrolas said with a broad smile. She held up her foreleg to show him. “Your friend has healed me, and I am at last willing to own that humans may have their uses.”

“A thousand thanks, Matthew!” Stegoman rumbled.

“I think you've already given them.”

“An emperor's thanks to the gallant Dimetrolas,” Prester John said.

“And a prince's,” Tashih said quickly.

“It is little enough that I have done.” But Dimetrolas raised shining, heavy-lidded eyes to Stegoman.

“Little? It is a pledge!” Stegoman breathed, “A blood-pledge, and I am minded to give one in return.”

“Your pledge I desire, but I have no use for your blood— unless it flows through the eggs of a brood of my own.”

“Do dragons marry?” Prester John asked Matt.

“They don't seem to think it necessary,” Matt replied.

“Why not?” Stegoman grinned down at Dimetrolas. “I have adopted so many other human ways!”

“But I have not,” she replied tartly. “Give me time, Winged Warrior—a century or two.”

“I shall give you my whole life ” he breathed, gaze locked on hers.

“That's the way they are.” Matt turned to Prester John. “Once they mate, they're together for life. It's the nature of the breed— in the genes.”

“Still, we might honor them with some small ceremony one day,” Prester John said, his eyes twinkling. Then he turned to his niece. “But we must honor most of all the young woman and young man who had the fantastic courage to plunge into the heart of an army of monsters and face lions! Without them, we would all have been lost!”

Anthony reddened and became very formal again. He bowed, saying, “It has been my privilege to serve, Your Majesty.” Then he turned and knelt before Balkis. “What more would you have of me, Your Highness?”

“Oh, do not call me that!” Balkis cried, stamping her foot.

Anthony looked up, stone-faced, but Matt said, “Okay, soldier, you heard the lady. That's her next order. Anything you'd like to add to that, princess?”

Anthony looked up, taken aback.

A gleam appeared in Balkis' eye. “Yes! Anthony, you must call me only 'Balkis' henceforth!”

“If—If you command it,” he said through wooden lips, “Balkis.” But still he knelt.

“Any other commands come to mind?” Matt asked in as casual manner as he could.

The gleam in Balkis' eye turned hot. “Yes! Anthony, rise and take me in your arms!”

Disbelief in his eyes, Anthony came to his feet and gathered her in.

She pouted up at him and, in the tones of a petulant child, commanded, “Kiss me!”

He looked down at her for a long minute, then grinned and kissed her.

“Well, that settles that,” Matt said loudly enough to break the mood.

They both jumped a little and stepped apart, blushing.

Matt went on, “We've established that he cares about you too much to let you go wandering alone, and you can't go into all the secure little nooks and crannies open to your cat shape with him along.”

“But I must be free to go where my people need me,” she protested.

“And I must still be your servant,” Anthony insisted. “You
are a princess and I a peasant. I can never be anything more to you.”

“But you are!” she protested. “You are everything!”

“Even to us, you are already a battle-hero,” the prince pointed out.

Anthony looked up in surprise, then turned stubborn again.

“I think he needs a bath after all that hot exercise,” Matt said. “Come on, Anthony. If you want to serve a princess, you'd better clean up.”

Anthony turned to Prester John questioningly.

“Go with the Lord Wizard.” The emperor's gaze was thoughtful.

Anthony turned to Balkis, but she too nodded. “He has taught me much, Anthony, though I did not wish to admit it at the time. Go with him, if you love me.”

Anthony's face closed again. He bowed to her, then turned to go with Matt.

The local form of bathing involved a large tiled chamber with wooden seats, massive towels around the waist, and huge quantities of steam. Matt waited until the heat and the moisture had relaxed the boy, then said, “Balkis never told you where she came from, did she?”

“Never.” Anthony tensed again. “If I had known she was a princess, I would not ever have dared court her.”

“Good reason not to let you know,” Matt said. “She is in love with you, you know—very deeply.”

Anthony made no answer, but frowned into the curls of mist about him.

“Of course, she didn't know she was a princess until a year ago.”

“What?” Anthony whirled to stare at Matt.

“It's true.” Matt nodded emphatically. “She was a baby when the barbarians conquered Maracanda, but her mother managed to set her adrift in a trunk just before they caught her. Some river sprites took pity on the baby and changed her into a kitten, because a month-old cat is a lot more likely to survive than a month-old baby.”

“More likely, yes,” Anthony said, his gaze glued to Mart's face, “but still prey to any who wish it.”

Matt nodded again. “Fortunately, the nixies turned her over to some dryads, and they raised her until she was big enough to get a job as a mouser with a caravan bound westward, out of barbarian territory. She never told you any of this, huh?”

“From this part, yes,” Anthony said slowly, “that she had traveled with a caravan in cat-form. She told me what she had seen of the great cities along that route—of Susa and Novo-gorod, of the wide plains and the dark forest.”