Dog and Dragon-ARC (8 page)

Díleas growled at the coin, as Fionn put down a hand to allow it to roll up to his pouch. Fionn shook his head at the dog. “Tch. After it paid for your dinner too.”

The dog informed him—by jumping up onto the bed—just where he was planning to sleep. Fionn suggested he try curling up under his tail. Díleas thumped the bedclothes with said tail, and ignored him.

Later that night—by the feel of it, approaching dawn—Díleas woke him with a nose in his ear, and a low growl.

No human would have heard it…or smelled it. But someone was talking, and there was a faint smell of wolf. An odd smell of wolf. And it wasn’t coming in through the window. Fionn got up. So did Díleas.

“I think you should wait. Those claws of yours make a noise on the wood,” said Fionn quietly, and slipped out. He moved as quietly as only he could, through the dark building and down to the landing of the stair to the main room and kitchen. From here he could hear them, and smell them. Ah. Mine host was talking to something that smelled…both like a wolf and a man. That was worrying enough without the faint smell of decay too. Fionn had dealt with enough skin changers before to know how those smelled. They were dangerous, in that they had the strength and skills of their beast side and the cunning of men. It was fortunate that men were not always particularly cunning. He listened.

“…too much money for what he pretends to be. He gave me a silver coin, from a realm I’ve never heard of, worth five times what I gave him for it. Also there were no other travelers on the Malpas road. Leroy would have let me know, and I would have let you know,” said mine host, the innkeeper.

Fionn had to swallow his snigger at the mention of the coin, now safe back in Fionn’s pouch, and go on listening. So the innkeeper—and his friend along the trail, kept the skin-changers informed of good targets. Such things were always useful to know, eventually. The wolf-man’s voice was gravelly and deep. “We saw no men on the road between here and Hunger ford. Just a mighty wyrm and a dog.”

“This one had a dog. A sheepdog.”

“A black and white dog. It rode on the wyrm. I think you have a magician here. Our mistress will reward you well for such a one, Gore. Let us see the coin he gave you.”

Fionn did not wait. It was time to leave. He moved quietly upstairs, picked up Díleas and was back down the stairs while the innkeeper was still searching and swearing. Fionn took himself into hiding next to the fireplace breastwork. A few moments later, the innkeeper, candle in one hand and club in the other, exited from the kitchen with his companion—heading upstairs for the room Fionn had just vacated. If Fionn had waited, he’d have met them on the stair. As it was, he was able to duck into the kitchen, and close the door. Most conveniently it had a bar, perhaps for when the food displeased the patrons. In the light of a bunch of rag wicks in an oil jar, Fionn scanned the shelf, and helped himself to a jar. The travelers must bring the spice here, as it would have been too precious and rare for anyone but royalty otherwise. He put Díleas down, tipped an oily crock of olives onto the floor, opened the outer door and left.

Of course at this stage, like most slick plans, it went awry. There was a pack of wolves waiting only a few yards outside the door on the roadway.

Fortunately, they were as surprised to see Fionn and Díleas as the dog and dragon were to see them. Fionn had a moment, as Díleas barked, to fling the fired-clay spice jar at the roadway just in front of them.

Fionn flung the jar with all his considerable strength, so it literally shattered into flying fragments, releasing a cloud of the precious pepper within.

He grabbed Díleas and ran the other way. The sheepdog was blinking and sneezing and trying to rub his eyes with a paw, so Fionn had a feeling that the wolves would not be doing too well in pursuit. Nonetheless, he preferred to deal with them in dragon form, so he underwent the short discomfort of changing his shape. It was not ever something particularly pleasant to do to one’s body, especially in a hurry but…needs must. Thus it was that the first angry, sneezing wolf got a bat from Fionn’s tail that sent it thirty yards back down the road. The others retreated hastily and Fionn realized that Díleas had not waited on an invitation but had leapt up onto his back and was now barking defiance at the chastened pack.

“Enough, Díleas,” said Fionn. “It’s time to leave before this escalates into an angry innkeeper with crossbow bolts. We’d better go.” He started down the trail. And Díleas leapt off, ran ahead and turned and barked at him.

“Not really playtime, boy,” said Fionn pushing on. Díleas growled at him and stood resolutely in his path. And then, when Fionn would have snagged him with a foreleg, he grabbed a talon with his mouth, but gently, holding not biting, and pulled Fionn back the way they’d come. Whining anxiously between his teeth. Wagging his flaglike tail furiously.

“I don’t think we should…”

Then it occurred to him, that he’d already seen enough evidence of his Scrap’s magical meddling in this very intelligent dog’s nature. “You’re trying to tell me something, aren’t you? Do you know where your mistress is?”

Díleas tugged at his arm again. And then let go and sat down. There was little light—it was still grey predawn. But Fionn would swear the dog was nodding. Then he got up, danced a little circle and darted back down the road. And then ran back. And whined.

Fionn sighed. “Up on my back then. I can’t chance flying with you. But my skin is more proof against arrows than yours. At close range crossbow bolts could still be a problem.”

Díleas leapt up, and they turned back toward the inn. The innkeeper, when they met him at the next bend, did have his crossbow, but Fionn had learned how to fling rocks with his tail, years ago. The result was very bad for the crossbow, and Fionn simply barreled past, down to the inn at the crossroads. And here Díleas leapt off his back—a flying leap that had him doing a somersault—before running a little way up the left-hand fork, and then coming back to make sure Fionn was following. So he did, into the dawn and off toward the distant sea at Carnac, because now that it was light, Fionn recognized this trail. He’d been down it before, many years back, before there had been an inn at that crossroad.

As it grew lighter Fionn could see more of the ancient forest surrounding him. The trees there must have been old when he’d last been free to walk this road. He looked for signs of imbalance, and also back for signs of pursuit. He could—and often did—change his appearance to avoid that sort of problem. The dog however, well, that might be a bit more tricky. Of course, this being one of the wildest and most dangerous of the Celt-evolved cycle of worlds, Fionn was also cautious about the road ahead. There would almost inevitably be wood dwellers who would try anything once, especially with a dog, although probably not on a dragon.

The road could provide problems of its own for walking dragons though. The Brocéliande knights would probably not respond well to sharing the road with him. And they fought monsters of various sorts here.

Well. He’d deal with it. Right now the one problem he was most troubled by was breakfast, or rather, the lack of it.

So when he saw a knight in full armor, barring their way, he regretted the conditioning set on him by the First. His kind of dragon could not combine moving the obstacle with having breakfast. Knights apparently broiled well in armor. It kept the flavor in, or so he’d been told. Armor being what it was, and having epicurean tastes, Fionn suspected that knights were probably too gamey for his liking anyway.

The knight was no coward. Well, in a place like the forests of Brocéliande, cowardice might let a knight survive, but did poorly at making them acceptable to potential mates.

It was selective breeding that made the knight lower his lance and put his spurs to his horse.

It was the sight of a black and white sheepdog on the dragon’s back that made him pull up the horse and stare.

“I am a knight under an enchantment,” said Fionn loudly.

The knight almost fell off his horse. But he was a superb horseman, and recovered himself. “Which one of you spoke?” he asked.

“I did,” said Fionn. “And I am afraid if you bar my path I must fight you, although I have no quarrel with you. I need to go to my lady’s rescue. She was plucked from me by magic, the dark workings of the same enchanter that bound me to this form. I must free her, and then I can be free of this curse.”

The knight stared. “Is having a sheepdog on your back part of the curse?” he asked, still not entirely putting up his lance.

“Considering the dog barks in my ear, you might think so,” said Fionn. “But no. He was my lady’s loyal companion, and he guides me in my search.”

The knight shook his head. “I have seen various monsters and fearsome creatures. But never a dragon. There has not been one seen in all Brocéliande for many a year. I thought great honor had surely come to me this day. But I had not heard that the fell beasts could speak, or well, that they would put up with a dog. Methinks it is an illusion.”

At which Díleas leapt down and trotted over to the knight. The horse paced warily, sniffing at it. “Your horse does not think it is an illusion. And to be honest with you, I could flambé you, right now, before that lance got near me, should I wish to. Actually, all the dog and I wish is to go on our quest, and to find some breakfast.”

Díleas had by now walked around to the stirrup and stood up against it, reaching his nose up. The knight reached down and his chain-link-covered gauntlet got a lick.

“If he’s an illusion, he’s a remarkably friendly and touchable one,” said the knight, somewhat more mildly. “What is your name, Sir Dragon? And where are you from and whence bound?”

Anything rather than another fight on an empty stomach, thought Fionn. And besides the wolves and monsters, Brocéliande was known for the ideals of chivalry. Fionn had found these often crumbled when closely examined, but there were exceptions. “Might I know yours, Sir Knight? I hail from a far land, and I am bound I know not whither, because I cannot speak the language of dogs. The dog knows, but I do not. I merely follow, but will follow until I find and rescue my lady. My name is Fionn of Tasmarin, and my style, Earl of Laufey.” Which was true, in a manner of speaking. It was one of the advantages of having assumed many personas and having been a fraud for so many years. It was unlikely that the knight would know Laufey, which was in the Nordic cycles somewhere.

The knight raised his lance in salute. “Well met, Earl Fionn. I am Sir Bertran, son of Ywain, guardian of the fountain of Escalados. I had hoped this day to fight a great battle against some foul creature, to gain honor. But instead I have met something so passing strange that I can at least have a tale to tell my grandchildren one day. It would be ignoble for me to fight someone on such a great quest. Is there some way I can aid you?”

“Breakfast, and to allow us free passage, would be good.” Fionn never forgot geography. Escalados fountain was a place he’d had occasion to visit. It was a pinch point for water and electromagnetic energies he’d had to adjust before. It was close enough to here.

Díleas barked in agreement, and danced on his hind legs. Fionn had realized that the dog was quite good at the manipulation of humans…and dragons.

CHAPTER 6

“I think, m’lady,” said Neve firmly, once they were out of earshot of the tower, “that I am going to faint.”

“Must be the lack of food,” said Meb, grinning. “I’m hungry enough to fall over myself.”

“Oh, I am sorry, m’lady. I’ll run to the kitchens…”

“You’ll do no such thing, Neve,” said Meb, grabbing her. “Without you I’m lost. I’d probably end up down the well or wandering in on Aberinn and Medraut in counsel and get executed on the spot. Show me the way instead.”

“But…but you shouldn’t go there, m’lady. The nobility don’t. Only Mage Aberinn goes down to the kitchens and cellars to magically replenish supplies.”

“He does?”

“Yes,” said Neve, cheerily. “Otherwise we’d be eating our shoes, m’lady. The wars have been that fierce. And the Vanar raiders have burned most of the fishing boats. That was why I came to the castle seeking a place. At least the food is wonderful. There are times that it looks better than it tastes, though.”

Meb was willing to bet that those were the times that it really was old boiled shoe. “Well, if I can go into his tower, I can go into the kitchens. And if anyone asks I will say he told me to, and I’ll bet not one of them will ever check.”

Neve giggled, which, the sensible part of Meb knew, was just the sort of encouragement she did not need. Without Finn to keep her out of trouble…That nearly made her cry again, so she resolutely thought about other things until they came to the kitchen of Dun Tagoll—with spits and hobs and great cauldrons…and most of them idle. There was, however, new bread. That much her nose told her. There was also a sudden shocked silence at her presence there.

The cook, large ladle in hand, approached tentatively. “What can we do for you, Lady Anghared?” he asked.

So even here they knew who she was. “I have just been speaking with Mage Aberinn in his tower.” Someone would have seen them going there, unless castles were vastly different from villages. By the gasps and nods she could tell that the two weren’t that different. “I came to see the state of the provision of the castle. And also to get a heel of that new bread.” Neve’s struggle to keep a straight face definitely made her worse. “And a jug of small beer.”

“The…mage put a stop to brewing. There is wine…”

Meb didn’t need to be a mage with great powers to tell that that hadn’t happened. “I won’t mention it to him. Or to those in the hall,” she said with her mouth as prim as possible.

She got the bread and small beer. And smiles as the two of them retreated to her chamber.

“I’m not eating or drinking this alone,” said Meb. “And small-beer is the only kind of reward I can give you for coming into the lion’s den with me. He didn’t seem to know that I wasn’t telling him the whole truth all the time either.”

Neve shook her head. “Eh, my lady, I had a friend back in our village like you. Always up to some mischief.”