Gaal the Conqueror (4 page)

"Perhaps it's as well," it continued after a moment. "If I got excited about the hole, I might breathe fire. And I can't stand
the smell of singed dog hair any more than the sight of a singed
and naked dog."

John turned and saw the dog sitting under the edge of the
trees and looking at them both. Something about the dragon's
manner had reassured him, and he felt sure it was joking about
the danger of breathing fire. He put the sword away and
whistled. "Come here, boy! Come on! It's all right! Come on,
boy!"

"You might offend the creature by referring to it as a boy.
The term implies both humanness and gender," the dragon
said, but John never heard him.

The dog rose to all fours and stared at them uncertainly, and
John bent forward and continued to encourage it. Slowly, stopping every few paces, it began to approach them. Behind John
the dragon lounged gracefully on its side, studying the dog's
progress. Eventually, after much encouragement and much
slapping of John's thigh, it stood on the opposite side of the
hole wagging its tale uncertainly and looking at John. "What's
in the hole?" John asked. The dog now wagged its tail vigorously. "What's in there?" he repeated.

The dog began to dig again, and soon to dig furiously. Before
long the hole in the soft brown soil had deepened. Water
trickled into it and the dog's paws were muddy. But its enthusiasm never waned. John turned to look at the dragon again,
wondering about the monocle in its left eye and the enormous
pair of spectacles hanging from a steel chain around its neck.
With one scaly claw the dragon was toying with a leather sack.

"What are your glasses for?" John asked.

"The glasses are for reading. The lenses are prisms so that
I can read a book at one side of me-sideways or lateral reading is the correct term, I believe."

"Why would you want to read a book at one side of you? Why
not hold it in front of you?"

"Because when I get excited about what I am reading I, er,
I breathe fire. It's very frustrating to get to an interesting part
of the book and see it go up in flames. Problems of that sort
never trouble you, I suppose."

John sniggered. He felt reassured once more, the dragon's
absurd pomposity putting him at ease. Perhaps it might even
prove a help in finding Eleanor. In that case it would be wise
to be as polite as he could and make conversation. But what
kind of conversation ought he to make with a dragon? "I've
heard that dragons eat metal and jewels and things. Is that true?
Do you eat jewels?"

"Dear me, no! No jewels. Absolutely no jewels. Not even the
purest blue diamonds. I have to diet." The dragon wriggled with
embarrassment. "Too much stress, I suppose," it said whimsically.

"Once I stopped kidnapping princesses I found I could not
eat real dragon food-even tried to become a vegetarian, but
then my fire went out. So I eat iron-horrid stuff-in order to
breathe properly again."

"Is that what you carry in your sack?"

"My what? My sack? Oh, you mean my briefcase-well, yes,
I do keep a bit of lunch in it-ax heads, rusty old swords, the
odd anvil, you know. After all, I'm an asher."

"A nasher? What's a nasher?"

"Excuse me-not a nasher, but an asher, A.S.H.E.R-asher."

"But what is it?"

"Oh, it's just a bit of local dragon slang referring to an unmarried male dragon, a hot male dragon if you know what I
mean. Some of us are hot, others of us suffer from failing
powers. Hot young dragons like yours truly breathe fire. We
turn things to ashes. Hence the expression, asher."

By now the dog had disappeared inside the hole it was digging, but the digging continued unabated. A fountain of wet soil
was rising from the hole. John was about to go and look, but the dragon seemed to want to talk. Its tone suddenly became
somber, and it seemed embarrassed.

"It was rude of me not to introduce myself properly. The
truth is that I was testing you. I had to wait until the real Sword
Bearer came. Several false ones presented themselves. One
even had a sword that shed light-red light. But all of them fell
down when it came to history."

"History?" John asked curiously.

"Details of what the Sword Bearer did in the sixth century.
You passed that one with flying colors, though the blue light
was pretty convincing."

The dragon paused for almost a minute, and then went on.
"I ought not to be embarrassed and ashamed, but I often am.
That's what makes me talk the way I do. I am considered a
traitor to my race-the first asher to be so regarded. I have
chosen another loyalty, a loyalty of which I am proud. Or at
least, when I am not afraid I try to be. But the price has been
heavy. I try to disguise my fears and shame. My name is Pontificater."

"Pon-what?"

"Pontificater, one who pontificates."

"Oh, dear, I don't know what that means."

The dragon shuffled his claws in apparent embarrassment.
"Of course there's really no connection between my name and
the verb `to pontificate.' I don't. It's just a coincidence."

"But what does it mean?"

"My name doesn't have any meaning. Does yours? But to
pontificate means to-well, pontiffs are important peoplekings, high priests and such like. To pontificate is to throw your
verbal weight around."

John hesitated for a moment. Then he said, "I see. But tell
me about your race. I didn't know dragons had a race. I thought
you were all kind of lone rangers."

"True. But we all emerge from the egg with an allegiance to the dark powers. From that point on we are governed by the
Circle of Nine, who are in turn controlled, I suspect, by Shagah
and the Lord Lunacy. I broke away. So far I have been protected from their wrath."

"In a way that does make you important. Is that perhaps why
they call you Pontificater?"

"Perhaps my name is Pontificater because I am called to
govern the area round the treasure, the treasure I suspect the
dog is now digging up."

John's eyes widened. "So you actually know what might be
there. Does the dog know? Is that why it's digging so deep?"

The dragon sighed another cloud of smoke. "I don't know
what the dog knows. I was told to protect the field from all
comers except for a black dog with a white patch between its
eyes and the real Sword Bearer. The dog arrived two years ago.
I was told that the dog would dig up the treasure and be able
to talk. It would explain to me what the treasure was and what
was to be done with it. But so far the dog hasn't spoken a word
and has scampered off every time I approached. As for you, you
did not come until today, and I have been waiting a hundred
years for you."

"But what's the treasure for? I mean, what's it about? Why
were you waiting all that time?"

"I gather that you and the dog have to get the treasure inside
the Tower of Geburah, though why you have to do so is a
mystery. Part of the treasure consists of a book-laws and history and that sort of thing. That has to do with Gaal in Bamah.
And there's a jeweled something or other in the chest. The
chest, along with an enormous iron key which is in my possession go to the tower. I am supposed to render whatever assistance I can."

John said nothing. Part of him was excited by the possibility
of further adventures. But it didn't seem to have anything to do
with finding Eleanor. He began to worry about his father too. What would he think when John didn't return? How much time
had elapsed in Canada since he had left? But the dragon was
still speaking.

"You may have a problem with the sorcerer."

"What sorcerer?"

"Shagah. He is the most powerful sorcerer known-in
charge of all spells and magic in Anthropos. Magicians all have
to get permission from him even to do something as trivial as
turning a spider into a newt. A sorcerer's sorcerer, so to speak
Special agent of the Circle. Plans to hide inside his own picture.
They say he keeps the picture frame in the evil temple in Bamah, where he has his chambers. When he's not hiding, the
picture is totally blank, but when he takes refuge inside it, he
grins at you from inside the frame. Spooky idea, don't you
think? Anyway, I suggest that you capture the picture and hang
it on the wall once you get to the tower."

"Why?" John asked.

"Because rumor has it that if you do that he'll be trapped
inside the picture, totally powerless, for several thousand
years."

The black dog had emerged from the hole and sat panting
on the far side of it. It seemed to be waiting for them to inspect
what it had done, and showed no fear of the dragon. John
stepped up to the hole and looked in. A bulky and rather moldy
leather bag protruded from the bottom of it. A good portion of
the well wall had also been exposed. In fact it looked as if the
bag were half stuck in the wall. John managed to get one foot
inside the hole and the other braced on one side of it. Gripping
the bag tightly and exerting all his strength, he heaved it onto
the grass. A hole was left in the well wall where the bag had
been stuck. John then got out of the hole and tore up several
handfuls of wet grass to wipe it clean.

"You'll find the key in my brief case," the dragon said. "I was
tempted to eat it, but Gaal warned me not to. And perhaps you'd better open the bag since you're to be the principle figure in
this little drama."

With trembling fingers John loosened the leather strings that
tied the neck of the bag. It took him several minutes to open,
for the knots were tight and the leather slippery, and he had
to keep drying his hands. More than once he gave up in disgust,
but the dog and the dragon never moved, staring at him expectantly. At one point the dragon said, "The prophecies said that
you, young sir, would open it-so you might as well go on
trying. You're going to do it sooner or later."

At last with a grinding of teeth the knots were loosened and
the bag opened. Two items lay inside, a large leather-bound
volume and a smaller wooden box. Quickly John pulled them
out. He laid the box and the key on the grass, and placed the
book on top of the box. A metal clasp held the book closed.
Something made John feel that he ought not to look inside itat least not just then.

Then the dog spoke. "The small wooden chest contains a
jeweled orb. We are not to open it but, as you said yourself a
moment ago, to take it to the Garden Room in the Tower of
Geburah along with the key."

"So you can speak," the dragon said. "Why didn't you speak
before?"

"I didn't dare," the dog said. "Why couldn't you just have left
me alone? It wasn't just you I was afraid of."

"So why did you run away?"

"Because you breathed fire every time you came near me.
And I couldn't afford to let you kill me just then."

John's mouth was wide open. He stared alternately at the
contents of the chest and at his two strange companions. What
did it all mean? The dog and the dragon stared at each other
with an intensity that was a little frightening. And the next time
the dog spoke John's heart seemed to stop beating inside his
chest.

"Pontificater, you know you must kill me now, don't you? You
must burn me to a cinder."

"Yes, so I was informed," the dragon said.

There was another silence. John's jaw dropped, even though
he was certain they were joking.

"Then get on with it," it said. "Do what you have to do. Kill
me."

"Hey! hey! HEY! Wait a minute!" John cried. "Are you both
crazy? And you-" he glared at the dog. "You mustn't talk like
that! You don't really want to be killed, do you?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then the dragon said, "Personally I don't particularly relish the thought of-er-putting the
creature to the torch. As I mentioned earlier, I hate the smell
of singed dog hair."

John was horrified. By now he had lost all fear of the dragon.
"Are you trying to be funny? You can't make jokes about things
like this! Stop it! Of course you don't want to-to burn her up!
And you mustn't."