Dark Lord of Derkholm (22 page)

“Thank goodness!” said Callette as Elda scooted off. “I didn't think I
could
fly all the way out to ask Shona for any! I went and asked Mum, and she tried, but she was too busy to think straight. And I don't know what to do. I'm not as good at flying distances as I thought. I do twenty miles, and then I have to come down.”

“You're a high-energy flier, that's why,” Derk explained. Callette's eyes were dull, and her feathers scrawny. He could see she had lost weight. “Twenty miles is pushing it for you. You should be coming down for a rest every fifteen miles, at least until you're older.”

“But I'll
never
get all the clues done if I have to come down every fifteen miles!” Callette wailed. Lydda sighed and sat down very upright against the far wall. Her tail, folded across her front legs, tapped the floor. Beside her Fran stood in the kitchen doorway with her sticklike arms folded, tapping one foot in a rather similar way. “Some of the places are in the desert,” Callette protested, “or right over by the far ocean! Half the tours are going to be
past
the places before I get there!”

“It's all right,” said Derk. “I never intended you to do the clues, Callette. I was going to get Blade to take me to do them in my spare moments.” Callette's beak opened to point out that Blade was not available now. Derk said quickly, “And by the way, however tired and cross you are, you should never call a dragon names.”

“This one deserved it,” said Callette. “He thought of eating me. I hoped he would. I was upset.” She lifted her beak and gave a great trumpeting howl. “I was so
slow
fetching a healer to you!”

“You were not so!” Lydda called out. “Don couldn't keep up with you.”

“I flew and I flew and I hardly seemed to be
moving!
” Callette wailed.

Elda came scampering back with a large yellow envelope skewered to one talon. “What do you mean?” she said. “I saw you. I never saw even Kit go that fast.”

“It seemed that way to Callette,” Derk explained. “Callette, I think you were in a state of shock. Things happening very fast always seem to go very slowly then. I expect you saw every blade of grass you flew over.”

“I did, you know!” Callette said wonderingly. “Pebbles, too. I counted them. Was that shock?”

“Yes, and the need to go unusually fast,” Derk said. “I'm very grateful, Callette.”

“In that case,” Callette said, looking a little brighter, “I'll get on with the clues. Give them here, Elda.” She put her large feathery forearm in through the window.

Derk curled the talons inward for her and pushed her arm back outside. “Not now. You need a rest. Let Lydda do it.”

“Me?”
Lydda sprang angrily across the room.

“Lydda!”
Callette's beak stabbed toward Derk's face.

Derk sat between two angry griffins. He did not feel equal to this.

“I can't fly worth nuts!” Lydda snarled.

“She has to launch from the
window!
” Callette squawked.

“That dragon drove him mad. I knew it,” Fran put in.

“You shut up, animal-woman!” Elda said venomously.

“Be quiet, all of you!” Derk managed what was nearly a shout. Luckily they were all surprised enough to obey him. He went on hoarsely. “Lydda can certainly do it. She's a long-distance flier. I should know. I made you that way, Lydda. If you go slow and take it steady and work up gradually to longer distances, you'll be doing a hundred miles without noticing after a week.”

“Are you
sure?
” said Lydda. “I thought you were making fun of me.”

“Of course I'm sure,” said Derk. “I built you with a double-sized heart, massive wing muscles, slow metabolism—you've got better circulation than Callette has, Lydda. You were a special model. I hoped you might manage to cross the ocean when you were full grown. But I wasn't going to bother you with that idea until you were older.”

Lydda's beak bent, and she looked uncertainly at her bulging front. “I'm fat.”

“Most of it's muscle,” said Derk, “though some
is
due to overeating, I admit. You'll have to work the fat off as you fly. And make sure you have a high place to launch from until your muscles adjust, won't you?”

“I'll be careful. Should I go now?” Lydda asked.

“You'd make Mum's Lair on the first stage if you go now,” Elda said wistfully.

“But study the clues when you get there,” Derk advised. “They're all fairly well labeled, but you'll find some of them have to be spoken by people—the Emir, for instance—and you'll have to ask to speak to those people. And I don't have to remind you that some people find griffins alarming, do I? Be very polite, but ready to dodge in case of trouble.”

“Ye-es.” Lydda held out her extended claws, and Elda carefully stuck the yellow packet onto them. Lydda looked at it dubiously. “But what about the broth?”

“I can do broth,” Fran and Elda said together. They glared at one another.

“And if I'm traveling, I shall have to eat things
raw,
” Lydda said.

“I eat things raw most of the time. It hasn't killed me,” Callette said. “Go away and be
useful,
the way you always are!”

Callette's feelings were very clearly hurt. As Lydda, full of thoughts and importance, paced slowly toward the stairs, Derk turned hurriedly to the window again. “Callette, I need to turn this house into a Citadel, but I won't have time to do it all at once now. Have you any thoughts on how to design it section by section?”

Callette's crest came up, and her eyes were brighter. “In black stripes, living room first?” she asked. “You want it frowning? Evil towers?”

“Exactly,” said Derk. “Lots of evil towers and monsters in the forecourt.”

“You'll need drawings from all angles to show how to slot the stripes together. I'll go and do some now,” Callette said briskly. “When do you want the first stripe?”

“Tomorrow?” asked Derk.

“Easy.” Callette turned busily from the window just as Lydda launched herself from overhead, shouting a cheerful good-bye. Lydda was clearly saving energy. There was none of the usual frantic wing whupping. “Huh!” said Callette. “You
really
think she won't come down in the next five minutes?”

“No,” said Derk.

Indoors Elda was saying pathetically, “What about
me,
Dad?”

“You can help me get back to bed,” Derk said wearily.

I
T TOOK BLADE FIVE HOPS
to get back to where the soldiers were—almost as many as Derk would have needed—and the only good thing when he got there was that it had stopped raining. He arrived to find Pretty galloping about in a crowd of dogs, the soldiers yelling steadily, something about their human rights, and Kit, Don, and Shona gathered anxiously around Barnabas.

Barnabas had brought three heaps of what looked like large black kites. Blade gathered that Barnabas had fetched them from the store in the University. “What are they?” he asked.

“Leathery-winged avians,” Barnabas said cheerfully. “They don't have to look real. They attack in the dark. Your father not back yet? Then I hope you know how to animate the things. There are three Pilgrim Parties over in the coastal hills needing to be attacked tonight. I'd help if I could, but I haven't nearly finished the base camp yet.”

He departed in his usual cheerful clap of noise, leaving Kit and Blade staring glumly at the kites.

“Well,” Kit said at length, “we'd better get busy.”

They spent the next three hours trying to animate the kites. Kit once or twice got the things two feet into the air and sort of flapping. Blade could not move them at all. They seemed to need a magic that was quite different from any Blade could do. Don suggested tying them to some of the magic reins and towing them through the air, but when Shona sacrificed more of her robe and Don tried it, the things behaved exactly like kites and simply soared. Nothing would persuade them to look as if they were attacking anything. The soldiers inside the dome of magic pointed and laughed and jeered. Then they chanted again. This time it was “Got no food. Got no food.”

“It's entirely their own fault for refusing to come out,” Shona said. “They could have been nearly to the food in the next camp by now. Take no notice. What do we
do
about these avians?”

“Get the wizards guiding the tours to animate them?” Blade suggested. “If three of us each take a pile and explain—”

They decided to do that. Kit stayed behind, sitting by the entrance to the camp with his head bent, glowering at the soldiers. Don and Shona set off straightaway, Don flapping laboriously with a pile of kites clutched in his front talons, Shona with her pile balanced in front of Beauty's saddle. Blade stayed to milk the Friendly Cows and feed the dogs and set off an hour or so before sunset with his arms wrapped around the third awkward bundle of kites.

He came to what he was sure was the right place in the hills. Finn was in charge of this Pilgrim Party, and Blade translocated to home on Finn. Blade was rather excited, to tell the truth, at the thought that at last he might see some of the Pilgrims all this fuss was about. He set down the bundle of kites, sat on a rock, and waited. And waited. There was a big red sunset. Blade watched it. When the light was almost gone, he began wondering if this
was
the right place after all. It was pretty well dark when he heard someone coming slithering and scrambling down the hillside above him.

Blade stood up. “Over here!” he called.

“Oh, there you are. I was hunting all over,” said Finn. “Sorry about this. Blasted tourists insisted on getting as far as they could. We're camped on the crest up there, a good couple of miles away. Got the avians?”

“Yes,” said Blade. He gave Finn the careful explanation that he hoped Don and Shona were giving to the other Wizard Guides around now. Derk had been called north to a dragon. He had sent Blade with the kites and asked Finn to animate them.

“I suppose I could,” Finn agreed, grudgingly. “Hard work after a day walking, but I suppose the things only have to swoop a bit and terrify people. Let's have a look.”

Blade led him by feel to the pile of kites. It was quite dark by then. Finn conjured up a little ball of clear blue witchlight, making Blade acutely envious. He wished someone had taught him how to do that. Wistfully he watched Finn loose the ball of light to hover over the pile of kites, so that Finn could see to pick one up and turn its leathery shape over, muttering. Finn stopped muttering after a while and held the kite close under the floating light. “This has got some damn queer spell on it,” he said. “I can't make it do a thing. Didn't your father give you a word to activate the spell at all?”

“No,” said Blade.

“Or even tell you what
sort
of spell?” demanded Finn.

“No,” Blade said again, wishing now he had thought of a way to say Barnabas had brought them the kites.

“Well, I can't work it,” Finn said. He combed his fingers angrily through his long gray beard. “
Now
what do we do?”

“We'd better skip them,” Blade said. “I'll take them away again. The Pilgrims don't know they're supposed to be attacked tonight by avians, do they?”

“I daren't skip them!” Finn said. His blue-lit face was horrified. “I don't know what the Pilgrims know, but I know one of them reports to Mr. Chesney at the end of the tour. I've seen her taking notes. I'll be in real trouble if I skip anything!”

“Oh,” said Blade. “All right. Give me another hour. Wait here.”

“What are they supposed to think I'm doing here?” Finn demanded.

“Meditating,” Blade said, and translocated away from what he saw was going to become a long and useless argument. He went to Derkholm again, in another set of translocations, landing goodness knew where in the dark, until around moonrise he finally arrived home, somewhere near the paddock. Big Hen promptly began cackling. “Shut up,” Blade said to her. “Please.” He felt his way along the fences to Derk's workshop and, by the growing moonlight, managed to find one of the big wicker hampers Derk sometimes used for taking pigs across country in. A blue ball of witchlight would have been a great help, he thought, as he heaved the hamper down the path beside the cages and the pens. Big Hen cackled again as he went by. And now the geese woke up and shouted Big Hen down. “Be quiet,” Blade said to them. “I've come to talk to you. Shut up and listen.”

The geese understood Blade perfectly. They just did not use human speech themselves. The noise from them died down, although there was one final sound from the rear, the sound of a goose sarcastically wondering when anything from a human was worth listening to.

“This,” said Blade. “You know you always want to peck people. How would some of you like to go and fly at some people tonight and really peck bits off them and scare them properly?”