The tap room of the Dancing Lion Inn was only half full, the rogues had finished their dinner, and Fearless the cat was relaxing in the middle of the table as they rubbed his belly.
“Vince, you ’n’ Orville said that even the priests at the Temples of Grasilos, God of Knowledge cain’t read these grimoires. If they got all the old knowledge stored away, how come they ain’t got a way to read this? The wizards musta had a way to teach their language to their students. Polly gave me some books that was easy for me to read when she was teachin’ me. Shouldn’t the wizards have had some simple texts to larn from?”
“It makes sense, Ben,” admitted Jenny, “but no one’s ever found anything like that. As Orville said, they wanted to keep their knowledge secret. Maybe they hid these texts so well no one’s found one.”
“Then how did the Temples of Grasilos get their grimoires?” asked Polly. “If they hid their training texts, wouldn’t they have hidden their grimoires just as thoroughly?”
“I told you I once spent some time visiting a Temple of Grasilos, while trapped by a blizzard,” Vince informed her. “They had a grimoire, donated to ’em by a wizard back in old times when there still were plenty of wizards. I think that’s how most of ’em got theirs. He might have intended it for other wizards who knew the language to look at, not the ordinary townsman.
“The priest at that Temple told me about the Big War, all about it. He knew everything about it, and I learned a lot from him. One thing I ain’t thought about much since then was the end of the wizards. All the wizards died in that war. The three kings who were fighting each other used magic to attack each other. There was some magic that could kill people, but only up close. They had their own wizards form bodyguards around ’em. If a hostile wizard showed up, they killed him before he could kill the king. They used illusions of the king to help disguise him.
“In time, they came to understand the magic wasn’t helping because their magical attacks were offset by the others’ magical defenses. Each king had the same defenses, and no one could get through, even with magic.
“They each thought to get rid of their rivals’ wizards so their own wizards would be supreme. But since they were all doing this, they all succeeded. They wound up killing all the wizards, so no one had any edge in the war. They destroyed the books their rival wizards had to prevent their rivals from making new wizards.
“And there was somethin’ about dragons, too. Dragons were fighting another war of their own against the wizards. Wizards were using dragon skin to bind their books, like this one. And tryin’ to use dragon blood for potions, or something. Anyway, dragons didn’t like this so they were killin’ wizards, too. There ain’t any dragons any more, either, so maybe they both killed each other off.”
“Vince, there are ruins of castles in the Great Wasteland, ain’t there?” asked Ben. “Mebbe some wizards lived in those castles, ’n’ mebbe their books’re still there, hidden in the ruins. Mebbe Polly could sense them.”
“That’s a lot of ‘maybes’, Ben,” laughed Vince. “You want to go south to the Great Wasteland to look, don’t you? We can do that. I’ll tell you up front that I think this’ll be a wild goose chase. It’s a big territory with a lot of old ruins. There are so many ways you could be disappointed in this.
“The books may not have been in dragon skin cases when the wizards were attacked, so they rotted over the centuries. They may have been burned at the time. They may be buried so deeply under debris even Polly won’t be able to find ’em. They may have been found later and destroyed as magical and therefore dangerous. Or destroyed because no one could read ’em and were therefore worthless. They may have been hidden by the wizards away from any castles. In caves, buried in the ground anywhere, in tombs. This is going to be a long, hard search.”
“I’m sorry, Vince. I’m being selfish,” confessed Ben. “I was just thinkin’ of what I want to do, as if it was the only important thing we could do. I told you when we left Ongar I didn’t want to lead this band, that I don’t know how. You’re the leader, you should make the decision ’bout where we go next.”
“I told you back then that I would go wherever you want to go. So will Jenny. Ever since you healed her, I feel, we both feel, that you’re something special, a new type of adventurer, the man who will restore magic to the world again. You will succeed in becoming a great wizard, and we’ll benefit from that as well as you. You will become famous, and we’ll be remembered as your best friends and supporters. That’s great fame, too.”
“That’s right,” added Horace. “There might be stories told one day about Jenny’s swordsmanship, or Betsy’s true aim with a bow. But no one ain’t gonna make up stories about me. Ah don’t mind; Ah’m just an axeman helping the band. But Ah will be remembered as the axeman who stood at your side. None of us really owe you anything, ’cept Jenny, but we like you deeply. Ah never think of the men Ah usta serve with for Baron Wimelper. But you, you’re different. Ah ain’t never gonna forgit you, and don’t want to leave you either.”
“You’re all embarrassing’ me,” complained Ben, blushing. “I’m not that great, not that important.”
“You healed me,” whispered Jenny quietly.
“Oh, yeah. I did do that, didn’t I? But what else is there? What else have I done that makes me so special you want to go wherever I want?”
“You took a flattened gold goblet and reshaped it into a work of art, all by magic and your mind,” Polly reminded him.
“You thought of a way to scare off Baron Rassalar when he was going to take our earnings, those horses, and another way to appease him when we met him again,” declared Vince. “I’m good at persuadin’ people, but I couldn’t have done that.”
“You put three dukes and a grand duke to sleep and robbed them,” Betsy commented, “adding a lot to our wealth.”
“All right, all right! I have done useful things, I guess. I keep thinkin’ I should be doin’ fantastically great things like Rupaldo ’n’ I ain’t. But you keep remindin’ me that he was a fully trained wizard in the stories, ’n’ that they are just stories. I’d like to be as great in reality as he was in legend. Mebbe it ain’t gonna happen. I don’t want to overrate myself.
“My grampa told a little story ’bout a man who bought a new suit of clothes. It was the latest style, made with the best fabrics, ’n’ it made him look beautiful. He walked down the street with his head in the air, proud of his appearance, wavin’ to people in the upper floors of the houses, showin’ off. ’N’ he warn’t lookin’ where he was walkin’, ’n’ fell into a cesspool. I don’t wanna be that man.”
“Ben, I will never let you forget who you are,” countered Polly. “I love you as the dopey looking guy who wants to be a wizard. I’ll love you just as much when you’re a great wizard, but the kid with a crazy dream is the one I fell in love with. I’ll make sure he survives all fame.”
“Thank you for sayin’ that, Polly,” said Ben. “ I always loved you because you was willin’ to love me just for myself. Keep me simple ’n’ honest, ’n’ I will live up to all of everyone’s ’spectations. Let’s go south then, but you gotta choose the route, Vince. I don’t know the way.”
“I don’t know the way to wizardly ruins either,” objected Vince. “But we can go to the Temple of Grasilos and ask for advice again.
***
“Wizard refuges in the Great Wasteland?” asked Wilfred at the Temple. “It would be easier to tell you where to find dragon eggs. Actually, our Temple in Hof, the Free City in Tanuca, has one. Not fertile, of course.
“The Big War destroyed a great deal of Wilu and Radalis, turning it into the Great Wasteland. Cities, towns, villages, and all the farms that belonged with them, everything was destroyed. There are villages and farms over a lot of the area now, and a few towns even. But late in the Big War, when there were still wizards, it was all gone. The wizards stayed with the armies and their kings almost all the time, being needed in the war. But it’s said that some had castles in the mountainous country of what is now southern Radalis. Some might have gone home from time to time. Or left some of their books at home.
“If you’re looking for some hideout of the last of the wizards, I’d suggest that area. It wasn’t quite as badly damaged as the more northerly areas. And the Free City of Olpe near the center of Radalis has a lot of shops selling antiquities, many of them dating back to the Big War. Our Temple there doesn’t have any wizard artifacts, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be able to find something in a back alley shop.
“The trip to Olpe is long, but if you avoid the mountains in the south of Rosria, it’s mostly flat country, or mild hills. There are some big towns along the way. Merchants have always crossed through the area, until the Big War, and for several years after. But the roads were there, and have been used again for a long time. It should take you between three and five weeks to get there, depending on how fast you travel.
“I made this trip myself years ago as a young scholar. I’ll make you another simple map, Vince. Follow this list of caravan towns and you’ll have good inns every few nights and acceptable ones in between. There’s not much traffic along the roads in the winter, and small groups of travelers often attract bandits. From the stories you told me about your last trip, I don’t suppose that’s going to be a problem for you. Good luck on your travels.”
***
It took them three weeks to get to Olpe, thirty days of hard travel, driven by cold winds as they went south. The ocean provided some residual heat to the north coast of Orilon year round, but it didn’t extend far inland. Fortunately the mountains of southern Rosria were broken by a wide snow-free gap. Wilu was as flat and open going south as it had been when they had come north three months earlier. They turned off the caravan route at Julich, which was due north of Olpe, instead of continuing to Boppard. Northern Radalis had fewer towns than Wilu, but there were plenty of farming villages and most had small inns. With few people on the roads in winter, inns were very welcoming to paying customers.
A few days north of Olpe, they found themselves in some hilly country, with few farms, fewer villages, and no inns. A hillside with a small stream just below made a good place to camp. The lee of the hill offered a little protection from the north wind, and there was grass for their horses. As was their usual habit, they each took a turn at an hour and a half watch.
The bandits attacked during the third watch, Polly’s turn. The two moons were both overhead and showed a woman with a spear on watch. The bandits thought this would be an easy raid: twenty of them, six travelers, guarded only by a woman. They had been robbing merchants and others on the roads for almost a year and a half. They hadn’t been in any big fights, but assumed they were good enough for any trouble. They knew enough not to yell out as they charged toward the camp a hundred yards from their hiding spot along the tree line.
The moons that showed Polly also illuminated them, and Polly saw them as they left the leafless cover of the tree line. She yelled, kicked Ben and Horace, the nearest bodies, and readied her spear. As the bandits closed to twenty yards away, Ben and Horace began to rise. The others were waking up, looking around for the danger. Polly ran her hand along the spearhead.
The nearest bandit was five feet away when a yellow flame burst out on the spearhead. He stopped in his tracks, staring in bewilderment at the flaming spear. Polly thrust the point through his leather jerkin and pulled it out as he fell. The other bandits slowed as they saw the first man drop, and they saw the point still flamed.
Polly stepped forward and slashed at another, cutting his throat. The flame still lit up the scene. Ben and Horace had gotten to their feet and were grabbing their weapons. Two bandits tried to get past the spear point and rush Polly, but she stepped lightly around and kept one away while she stabbed the other. The point was still burning. Horace felled the other one as he came up again. By the time the others were up, the remaining bandits were disappearing into the woods.
“Four dead bandits in almost no time,” noted Vince. “Three of them killed by Polly. That’s really good work, Polly. How many more were there? I woke up groggy and didn’t get a chance to count.”
“I’m not sure, I was trying to wake people up. I think fifteen or twenty, a good bunch anyway. They stopped when I killed the first one, and started running when Horace killed the last one.”
“Polly, I saw your spear point,” wondered Jenny with awe. “It was flaming. How did you do that? Ben can make a flame, and put it on a blade, but he was asleep, like the rest of us. What was that?”
“Ben taught me to do that. I had taught him to read on our trip north. We’ve been talking about whether my ability to find things is magic or not. So he decided to see if he could teach me some magic. He said the flame thing was easy; it was the first magic he learned. It took me a while, but I finally learned how to do it a couple of weeks ago.
“We’ve been riding at the back of our band, so you never saw me practicing. And Ben’s been trying out something new with the flame, too. I learned that as well. We can throw the flame onto something that’s not in our hands. When I stabbed the first man, the flame went out, but I threw it back on again from a distance.”
“Ben, why this?” asked Betsy. “I mean, why did you teach Polly to do this sort of attack?”
“Remember how impressed Baron Rassalar was with the fake flamin’ sword I showed him?” Ben reminded them. “I don’t reckon a lot of people know the old legends of Sir Tanalor ’n’ his sword, but anyone would be skeered of a flamin’ blade. I love Polly ’n’ want to keep her safe in our fights. I bet these guys was too afraid to keep on attackin’.”
“Man, I must have been sleepin’ really hard,” declared Vince, “because I didn’t even notice your spear point. Can you do it again?”
They all watched as Polly held up her spear. She rubbed her hand up the point and a yellow flame flowed along the edge. She thrust the point into the ground and the flame died out. She held the blade aloft again and just looked at it. More yellow flame burst out around the point.
“So you can now throw fireballs at our enemies?” asked Vince.
“No, I cain’t do that,” confessed Ben. “I wanted to when I first found out how to make a flame on my finger. My grampa told me a story about Rupaldo, the great wizard. ‘’N’ Rupaldo stretched out his hand ’n’ a great ball of flamin’ fire appeared in it, ’n’ he flung it far across the plain, ’n’ it landed among the evil lord’s men ’n’ burst in a great incandescent blast, killin’ all of them.’ Grampa was always rather flowery about those parts of his stories.
“I could make a flame on my finger, but I couldn’t make a ball of fire. ’N’ I couldn’t throw the small flame I did have. I could make it bigger, but it stayed on my finger. I’ve only lately learned how to make the flame appear on somethin’ I’m not touchin’, but I still cain’t throw it. I think that may be another one of grampa’s ’saggerations.”
“What about making fake fireballs, like your fake flaming swords?” asked Jenny. “A ball of straw or cloth with flame on it. Wouldn’t people think it was a real fireball?”
“Mebbe. I’m not sure I kin throw somethin’ light like that very far. I usta ball up wool at shearin’ time ’n’ could never throw it as far as I could throw a stone. A fireball that only flew ten or twenty feet wouldn’t be very skeery.”
***
Olpe was a Free City almost in the center of the Principality of Radalis. Trade on the River Brent had helped eastern Radalis recover from the Big War, especially the cities of Tiverton and Barton. River trade continued up the River Orm to Wolfach, halfway from Barton to Olpe. Olpe was up in the hills where the Orm began, but too far up to be reached by boat. But overland trade still made it to Olpe from Wolfach, as well as from cities and towns to the south in Ghanal, to the north in Wilu and Meruno, and to the west in Taril.
The merchants of Olpe had worked hard to restore their city after the destruction of the Big War, doing everything they could to encourage renewed trade with other lands. They marked out their boundaries and imposed their authority on a circle of land twenty miles across, Even before the nobles began rebuilding their territories, Olpe was a Free City, owing no allegiance to anyone. As counts became dukes, and then promoted themselves to princes, Olpe stayed independent.
It was not large, but it was wealthy and its leaders were politically savvy. Their wealth came from wool, and the things one made from wool. Spinners made thread, weavers made cloth, tailors made clothes. They all prospered and their factories filled the city.
Rich merchants built stone mansions for themselves and stone buildings for their city government. Even the wooden houses of the less wealthy were large and decorated. The central square was ringed with impressive city offices, Temples, and mansions. The city was a busy center of commerce, and a lovely place to visit for travelers.
Vince and his party entered the city in mid-afternoon and found a pleasant inn called The Pear Tree near the center of the city, run by a friendly man named Lamar. They unpacked, visited the Temple of Pronustio, God of commerce to deposit their cash, and then walked around the city enjoying the beauty of its architecture. They found men in red and yellow livery roaming the streets singly, or in pairs, and learned that they were the city’s militia. They were armed with only a tall wooden staff and seemed to have no difficulty maintaining public order.
The next morning they went to the Temple of Grasilos, God of knowledge, and met Remy, an old scholar with a friendly, smiling face.
“I remember Wilfred,” he declared. “He came here looking for information about some duke from the days before the Big War. That was his specialty, political history. Each of us has a particular interest that we try to learn all about. My father was an expert in all sorts of wild animals. One of our other priests here has written an excellent book on the culture of trolls. Of course, some don’t specialize quite so much. I began studying the history of how we worship the Gods, but it’s only a small part of all that I’ve learned over the years.
“There were wizards in this part of Radalis during the Big War. There had to be, since a lot of the war was fought in the Wasteland north of here. But wizards were very secretive and there are few places that are known to have been their homes. I’ve visited one, and it’s a total ruin. I went looking for traces of a wizard shrine, but found nothing.
“Wizards and rulers are two groups who worship Gods that no one else does. A farmer wants nothing from the God of rulers, and that God can’t give the farmer any help. Same with the Goddess of magic. Only wizards worshiped Her. There are no Temples to these Gods, only shrines in castles and palaces for Basitarnu, God of rulers, and shrines in their houses for Humoparmia, Goddess of magic. At least, I think so. I’ve never found one. The wizard was his own priest, and he also ran a school for young magicians. That’s why I assume the shrine was in his house. Everything would be in one place, convenient for him.
“I’ve searched a lot of the area around Olpe, and northward. I’d suggest you might want to try looking for a wizard’s house or tower in the mountains southwest of here. I agree with you that there must have been books for their students to learn from, books that would teach the wizards’ language. But I’ve never seen or even heard of any such books.
“You might look into the various shops throughout the city that deal in what they call ‘antiquities,’ ‘stolen property’ to others. The authorities don’t mind too much because most of the stuff was found out in the Great Wasteland. The owners have been dead for centuries. The men who own these places might have something whose worth they don’t recognize. Though they’re pretty astute about the value of their goods.”
“Thank you, Remy,” Ben said. “You’ve been very helpful. If we find a wizard’s shrine, we’ll let you know where it is.”
***
“Ever seen anythin’ like this leather?” asked Ben in the first shop they visited. He was holding the dragon skin case for his grimoire. He politely refused to let the shopkeeper hold or open the case.
“No, nothing like this.,” confessed Jamal the shopkeeper. “Might be a sort of crocodile skin, I guess. They live in the far south, near the sea. Looks nice, must have belonged to some rich guy, they like exotic leathers. I’ll give you two hundred moons for it.”
“Sorry, I’m not selling. I’m trying to find another. Do you have any old books you can’t read?”
“You mean, like grimoires. That’s the only old book no one can read. No, I don’t. Wish I did. If I had one I could retire on the money I’d make from it.”
The second shop had several old books, but all were easily read, even if hard to understand. The third shop had no books, but some interesting leather cases. None of them were made of dragon skin. The fourth, fifth, and sixth shops also had nothing of interest to Ben. Evening was coming on, and he had seen nothing he wanted. The party went back to their inn looking forward to dinner.
***
“He had a leather case made from a leather I’ve never seen before,” Jamal instructed the men in front of him. “He wouldn’t let me look into it, or even hold it. He was asking about books of magic. I think he had one in that case, and wanted another one. I’ll pay each of you a hundred moons if you can get me that case and what’s in it. No questions asked. There he is now, going past the window, in front of his friends.”
“That kid?” asked Bowie, leader of a local gang of thugs. “He looks easy to take. Asa, follow ’em to see where they’re stayin’. Meet us at the inn when you find out. The other two guys look tough, but five of us should be able to handle ’em quickly. And three women, maybe we can have some fun with ’em afterwards.”
“I don’t care what you do after you get that case. Just bring it to me as soon as you can. I’ll be here all night waiting for you. I’ll pay you when I get it.”
***
“They’re going upstairs now,” commented Bowie from his table in the back of the inn. “You’re sure they didn’t see you earlier when you followed ’em? Good. Then they don’t know we’re interested in ’em. The way they’re hugging those women, I think their minds are on fun and not burglary. Let’s go up after ’em now.”
The five men rose, tossed some bronze coins on the table, and went up the stairs. They listened at doors on the first floor, went up another floor, listened again, and went up again. On the third floor, they heard voices from three rooms. Young voices came from the nearest room. Bracing himself, Felipe ran at the door, hitting it with his shoulder. It sprang open, revealing a young couple half clothed, gazing at him in surprise. A large black cat leapt at Felipe and scratched his face before Felipe pushed him away.
“Who are you?” asked Polly, angrily. “What are you doing here?” She pulled a dagger from her belt on the table and threatened the men with it. Ben reached for his sword, flinging the scabbard at their faces to distract them.
Felipe had a large dagger of his own, Bowie and Asa had short swords, and their partners had clubs. They were not upset to see a dagger and a sword. Looking at the couple and wanting the woman for fun later, Bowie swung his sword at Ben. Ben parried him effortlessly and countered with a fatal blow to Bowie’s head.
Felipe grabbed the woman’s left arm and Asa approached her with his sword. Suddenly the hilt of his sword burst into flame, and he dropped the sword as the flame burnt his hand. The woman lifted her dagger and plunged it into Felipe’s chest. He fell to the floor.
Asa and the other two thugs were about to flee when their exit was blocked by two large men, one holding a very large axe. They dropped their weapons and sat on the floor, as ordered.
“Betsy heard you shout,” commented Horace, “and told me to see if you were okay. Ah guess you are.”
Jenny went down to the tap room of the inn.
“Where can I find some militiamen at this hour?” she asked Lamar the innkeeper. “We have some thugs upstairs, two dead, three alive.”
“Duncan, get the militia!” Lamar yelled to a youngster mopping the floor. “I’m so very sorry. This should not happen at my inn. I’m embarrassed, this is a respectable inn.” He kept apologizing as they went up the stairs.
“Are any of you injured?” asked Lamar. “This has never happened before. Please forgive me.”
“We don’t blame you,” Jenny comforted him. “So please stop apologizing. No one is hurt, except for these two thugs. Have the others talked yet, Vince?”
“Of course. I had only to suggest some of the nasty things we might do to them and they told all. The first shop we stopped at today is run by a guy named Jamal. The fellow who said Ben’s case was crocodile skin and offered him two hundred moons for it. He offered these guys a hundred moons each for the case. He may not have know exactly what it was, or what was in it, but he knew it was worth an awful lot.”
“Ah, the militia have arrived,” announced Horace. “Good evening, good sirs. Some fresh thugs for you to arrest. They was planning to steal something from us and sell it to a man named Jamal, a dealer in ‘antiquities’ here in town.”
“Very good, sir,” remarked the leader of the militia, “we know Jamal. We’ve suspected him of being behind local burglaries for some time. We’ll take care of him, too. You men take the prisoners; you four, get the bodies out of here. I’m afraid, good people, that I’ll have to ask you some questions tonight.”
Half an hour later, the questions had all been answered, and the party was finally alone again, except for Duncan mopping up the last of the blood.
“Should we leave tonight?” asked Polly, smoothing Fearless’ still ruffled fur.
“No, I don’t think Jamal would’ve sent two groups after us,” considered Vince. “I do think we should leave town in the morning, though. I would’ve liked to rest a few more days after our long trek here. But we haven’t found anyone with old stuff related to magic. And we may have drawn some attention to ourselves that we don’t need. There’s another fair-sized city a day’s ride south of here, Rennigen. Let’s go there tomorrow and just rest.”
“Vince, you should know something else,” declared Ben. “Polly invented a new attack tonight. I hadn’t thought about this use of my magic flame, but she did. She set the flame on the thug’s sword hilt, ’n’ it burned his hand. It made him drop his sword. We can use that to disarm people.”
“I used to worry about you two kids facing all the dangers of the rogue world,” admitted Betsy. “You’re so young and innocent; well, maybe not innocent, but unfamiliar with life. But I think I should start worrying about the world’s ability to face you.”
***
Rennigen was ruled by the Prince of Radalis, not the Free City of Olpe. It had been founded two hundred years earlier by the first prince, to take a first bite of the trade from the south. It had prospered and its rivalry with Olpe hadn’t hurt either city. It was a smaller and newer city, and paid the prince taxes that Olpe did not, so it did not have the grand appearance of its neighbor. But the prince’s governors had long insisted on ruling with a light hand to keep the rivalry fairly even.
The Blue Boar Inn was on the main square of the city, near the Temple of Grasilos and three ‘antique’ shops. Ben hid his dragon skin case under the mattress of his bed and they all went into the plaza. They found a large group of men talking heatedly about something.
“Hasn’t been done in a hundred, maybe two hundred years,” remarked a man dressed in rich garb, probably a merchant. “What I want to know, Ambrose, is what effect this will have on our trade to the south?”
“Well, how can I tell you that, Silas?” replied Ambrose, an elderly scholar. “As you just said, it hasn’t happened in centuries. And it hasn’t happened anywhere near Radalis in even longer. It might make trade more difficult, but maybe not. Trade benefits people on both sides of the border, so no one will want to see a long interruption of it.”
“Is the war going to spill over the border?” asked another man, wearing the livery of the city guard.
“I don’t think so,” answered a man in the black garb of Death. “Ghanal’s a large principality, big as Radalis. He’s got his work cut out absorbing that large a territory into his own. He won’t be able to do anything to his neighbors for years.”
“What’s the news, good people?” asked Vince.
“Duke Mittanolo of Phada has overthrown Prince Canamongo of Ghanal and intends to rule both realms as one,” Ambrose informed him. “It was all very sudden. There are rumors that he had help from the trolls of northern Ghanal. We’re concerned because we’re only a few days north of the border between the two realms.”
“I still say we don’t have to worry,” commented the priest of Death. “The mountains of north Ghanal will serve as an effective barrier to Mittanolo’s army.”
“You forget that he’s supposed to have a treaty with the trolls who live in those mountains,” countered Silas. “Trolls don’t normally leave home, but if he’s persuaded them to help him invade Ghanal, what else might they do?”
“I’ve fought trolls,” related the city guard. “Several years ago I worked as a caravan guard. We were in Ghanal, halfway between Wedel and Fazeley when we were attacked by some trolls. They were immense and strong to match, but they had no armor. Their weapons were simple: a few swords but mostly clubs. They were tough fighters, but without armor they had little chance. Backed up with a proper army, they could be deadly, though.”
Vince led his party into the Temple of Grasilos, and Ambrose followed them a little later. He found Vince looking at a large map on the wall which displayed Radalis and parts of the neighboring realms.
“Thinking of going south, and thinking better of it now?” asked Ambrose.
“No, we had no interest in Ghanal,” replied Vince. “But we are concerned. Duke Mittanolo has a personal dislike of us. I’m worried about him annexing so large a realm as Ghanal. He’s very ambitious. Still, I don’t think he’ll be able to find out where we are. Especially if we stay out of Ghanal.
“My friend, Ben, here, is interested in wizards, and where they lived in the old days. He’s lookin’ for artifacts that might survive from that time. Do you know of any places they might have lived, or if any of the shops in town might have any objects connected to wizards?”
“I regularly visit all the shops in the city that sell ‘found goods’ as they call them. Treasure hunters usually bring their finds to Olpe, because most of the relics of the old days are farther north. But some hunt in the mountains south of here, and we get their objects. Old swords, not even magical ones anymore, talismans, broken decorations from old castles. That’s about it.
“If you want to find where wizards once lived, I’d go to the mountains west of here. There are stories about a wizard school to the west, or maybe southwest, once upon a time, but it’s been so long since that time that this may be just a myth. At least, there are no trolls in those mountains.”
“We met some dwarves in Bosno a few months ago,” related Vince. “And I’ve seen some elves years ago while traveling through one of their forests. But I’ve never run into trolls. What are they like? Are they hard to fight? That city guardsman didn’t sound too impressed with ’em as fighters.”
“He’s had training with weapons. I can see the mail under your clothes and assume you’ve had similar training. You shouldn’t have too much trouble, as long as you don’t take them for granted. I’ve never heard anyone understate how tough they are. They’re maybe two feet taller than most humans, and broad in proportion. Same for strength.
“They live underground and are pasty white because they never get any sunlight. They don’t see too well in the daylight, it’s too bright for them. But in a cave, or at night, they see really well. I don’t know how, but they seem to sense your body heat somehow. Anyway, they know where to hit, and they hit hard. They use clubs mostly. They’ll use swords if they can get them, but they don’t make them.
“Dwarves live underground too, but they figured out how to get the smoke from their fires out of their tunnels. Trolls never have learned that secret, so they can’t run forges or have any fires. So they can’t make metal weapons or armor. They’re not the brightest creatures around, but they’re not stupid. Treat them like dumb animals and you’ll die a horrible death.
“All of the four races are made differently. Humans are made of pure flesh, like pigs or cows. Elves have flesh that is sort of woody, gives their muscles more strength, and makes it harder to cut them. Because they’re kind of part plant, elves have skin that comes in a varied mix of shades of brown and green, a little like a calico cat. Makes them hard to see in the woods, which is why some people think they can become invisible.
“Dwarves’ flesh is sort of stony. Hard to describe it. It’s not stone, but it’s denser than human flesh, and tougher than even elf flesh. You’ve seen some, so you know their skin is grayish, like stone. They live underground like trolls, but they come outside more often, even in the day, so they’re not that pasty white like trolls.
“Trolls are even more different. Their flesh is more like human flesh, but it’s very oily. Their skin is shiny from the oil, and they’re hard to grab because of it. And their bodies are more oily inside, too. That may be why trolls don’t care about having fires. They may be afraid they’ll burn up quickly if they fall into a fire.”
“Really?”
“Well, maybe. I’m a scholar, but that doesn’t mean I know everything.”
“Well, thank you for your help, and your advice. Let’s go, gang.”
Ambrose was right. None of the shops had any interesting items. A day and a half spent looking for magical items, more discreetly than in Olpe, proved that there wasn’t any trace of wizard related objects in town. Two more days let them rest up from the trip south from Lugau.
***
“You’re not worried about Duke Mittanolo finding us?” asked Polly as they rode west from Rennigen.
“I’m sure he’d like to find us,” admitted Vince. “He sent men to follow us when we left Ongar. Harold dogged our trail all the way to Lugau. But we finished him off, and his whole force. Even if he sent messages back home, his trail ends there. Only Wilfred in Lugau knows we went to Olpe. We told no one in Olpe we were going to Rennigen. Only Ambrose knows we’re going west from Rennigen. What are the odds of another of Mittanolo’s men just happening to question the only two men who could possibly point ’em in our direction? We do have to be careful about going too far south. But even in Ghanal we’ll be strangers, unknown to anyone. We only have to worry about being seen by someone who saw us in Ongar.”
“Yes, and that Death priest was right,” added Jenny. “Reorganizing the governments of Ghanal and Phada will take time and keep him from thinking about us for a long while.”
“Meanwhile, that mountain up ahead looks like a good place to start searchin’ for wizard houses,” Ben suggested. “I wish I knew what sort of place wizards lived in. The old stories have them livin’ in castles, ’n’ palaces with kings, ’n’ scary caves. That cain’t all be true. Mebbe none of it is. What if they just lived in simple cottages, like peasants? Any old farmhouse could be what we’re lookin’ for, ’n’ we’d never recognize it.”
“If they did live in ordinary cottages,” objected Betsy, “those cottages would’ve decayed to nothing in all the hundreds of years since the Big War. Burned down, fallen in, rebuilt. All traces of wizards long gone.”
“Well, we kin look for a while,” declared Ben. “I know this is a very long shot. Kin you let me look for two weeks, mebbe three? If we don’t find anything by then, we kin give it up.”
“Vince is the one who usually says this,” mentioned Horace, “but we all feel the same way. Spend all the time you want looking for your magic books. We’re a good band of rogues, and kin make a very good living hunting bandits and brigands. The more magic you kin offer us, the better we’ll become. And if you cain’t learn any more, you’ve already given us a big edge over anyone we might want to fight.
“No one else has weapons as sharp as ours. No one else has your magical fire effects. Even if your flaming sword is just an ordinary sword, it looks scarier, and that helps in a fight. Being able to put a flame on someone’s hand to make him drop his weapon is just fantastic.”
***
The mountain was not too tall, but it was a mountain and not a big hill. Its top was broad, with a tiny spike of rock at one end. Pine trees covered its sides most of the way to the top and some snow covered the very top. The village was about two miles from the bottom of the mountain, strung out on both banks of a stream that flowed from the mountain. Fields and pastures surrounded the village, and a few orchards grew closer to the mountain.
The farmsteads were scattered indiscriminately along the stream. The houses were built of wood, with tile roofs. They appeared to be spacious and well made. Every farm had a large, strongly built barn, surrounded by animal pens. There were no walls around the village, but there was what looked like a watchtower at the end of the village nearest to the mountain.
There was no market square, but there was an open area where a few people were standing, watching the band of strangers approach. Vince dismounted and greeted the locals.
“”Good day to you, good folk. My name is Vince. We are adventurers...”
“Trouble making riff-raff.”
“Thieves.”
“Brigands.”
“Adventurers,” continued Vince. “We make our living huntin’ for brigands and bandits. But right now we’re a type of treasure hunter, searching for the impossible. We’d like to find any relics of the old days of wizards. They might bring a nice price in the cities. Do you know if there were ever any wizards who lived in this area?”
“Well, Vince, my name is Randall, sort of head man of the village when we need one, which ain’t often. And you’re plumb out of luck here. This village is fairly old, but it was founded well after the Big War. We got a stone over there markin’ the foundin’ put up by the baron at the time. If there ever was wizards here, they was gone long before our ancestors came along.
“But you might want to look on the top or the other side of the mountain. We don’t go up there at all. There’s nothin’ on the other side but more mountains. We’ve gone around and seen that. However, there are legends of somethin’ dangerous up there, so we don’t go up. Goin’ over the top or around takes just as much time. Ain’t no grazin’ ground up there, so we don’t need to go up anyway.”
“Do you think ‘somethin’ dangerous’ might be a wizard’s home?” asked Horace as they started up the mountain.
“”Hard to say,” guessed Vince. “Ben, you know more about the old stories than the rest of us. Do they mention wizards setting traps for people?”
“No. Rupaldo always fought his magic duels in the open. Some of the wizards had magical defenses around their castles, but not traps as such. Just things to keep people out. I asked grampa once why they didn’t set sneaky traps. He said it was too much trouble for themselves. Every time they went in or out they’d hafta dodge ’round their own traps. Such a bother, he said.”
“Traps would’ve been a good addition to those old stories,” commented Betsy. “If they weren’t in the tales, then they didn’t exist. They would’ve been included if they had been real.”
“And now we know why the villagers don’t go over the mountain here,” noticed Jenny after a while. “This trail has been nice and easy, and now there’s a solid wall of rock just ahead. We’re so close to the top, too. I thought there might be a pass here, but there’s nothing.”
“No, there’s a trail up there, to the left,” observed Horace. “Ain’t much, but Ah think we can ride, or at least lead, the horses up that way. It’s getting late in the day, and Ah’d rather try that trail in daylight. There’s a cave here in the rock wall. We could camp here tonight.”
The cave was a large hole in the rock wall, fifty feet wide, twenty feet high and thirty feet deep. A narrow passage ran farther back into the mountain from the rear of the cave. The floor was bare rock, with a thin layer of dirt blown in by the winds. Nothing was living in the front of the cave now, though old, dry bones showed the occasional presence of carnivores. The passage at the rear was too tight to let any big animal like a bear pass freely.
Build a fire against the early spring night air, have dinner, stand their watches, sleep. A typical night on the road. Morning came with a line of sunlight reaching into the back of the cave. Rise, visit one of the private spots in the trees, have breakfast, pack up their gear. A typical morning on the road.
Almost typical. A loud sound came from the rear of the cave, grumbly, growly, strange. Ben, who was closest to the rear, stepped up to the narrow passage and listened for more sounds. A long, low-pitched mumble came out.
“I want to see what’s makin’ this noise,” Ben decided. “I won’t be long.”
He lit his finger and squeezed into the tight passage. He had to move sideways along a crack between two walls of rock. He went about two hundred feet and the passage opened up a little. Now he could face forward and walk comfortably for several hundred feet more. His finger light showed him plain rock on both sides and some broken rocks on the floor. Up ahead the passage seemed to widen some more.
Suddenly, he was in a large open space, with dim light coming in from the far side. He realized that the passage had led him through the mountain into a new cavern, and the light was the light of dawn, blocked by the bulk of the mountain and turned into a twilight. He also realized that he was not alone.
“ARRRGGGH!”
A loud roar, groan, dreadful sound of some sort, bellowed out from a dim part of the cavern. Ben took a few steps forward and noticed a smell, too. No, smell was too mild a term, a stench. Even for a farm boy, the stench was intense and offensive.
“Who or what are you? And why do you disturb my slumbers?”
The voice was loud, harsh, and nearer than Ben liked to think about. He had put out the flame on his fingertip when he saw the light from outside. That was getting brighter, but the mountain still kept the outside in shadow, so the inside was not really bright. He stepped forward and saw what was speaking to him.
A dragon.
Ben had never seen a dragon, of course, but he had no doubt that this large creature was indeed a dragon. What else could it be? Large as two, maybe three of the elephants he had seen at the circus at the tournament in Ongar. A head the size a butt of beer, filled with long teeth. Wings folded along its sides. His grandfather had never shown him a picture, but this had to be a dragon!
“There you are! What are you doing here? Do you not know that it is bad manners and bad luck to awaken a dragon?”
It is a dragon! How thrillin’! I thought they was all dead ’n’ gone, like wizards. What a marvelous discovery! Mebbe we kin join forces ’n’ go adventurin’ together! Wouldn’t this be a great addition to our band!
The dragon got to its feet and roared out again. He walked toward the cavern opening and lashed his tail, striking a rock outcrop and knocking some blocks of stone into the wider passage Ben had just come through.
“Ben, are you all right?” asked Polly from the narrow passage, a small light on her finger. “What’s that awful noise? We’re getting worried about you, darling. Come on back, Ben, and let’s go on.”
“Polly, I cain’t go back that way now. Somethin’ happened, ’n’ it’s blocked now. But this cave goes through to the other side of the mountain. Go over the top ’n’ come down again, there’s a real big cavern openin’. Be careful. There’s a dragon in here.”
“A DRAGON! What do you mean, a dragon?”
“Large, scaly, actually hungry-lookin’ right now. You know, dragon. Bring all of our stuff over the top of the mountain, ’n’ I’ll try to get out past him.”
“Who are you talking to? Why has my lair suddenly become full of humans? I can smell you, I know the smell of human. Wait. There is something more. Oh, my, I have not smelled that smell for so very long. You smell like a wizard! Are you a wizard?”
“Yes, actually I am a wizard. I was just now wonderin’ if we two rare creatures might not become friends ’n’ go adventurin’ together.”
“Friends! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, ignorant human! Have you never heard of the great and terrible war between wizards and dragons? Of the eternal hatred of dragons for wizards? I must kill you, wizard, because you will try to kill me.”
“Why would I do that? I ain’t never met you before, ’n’ you ain’t done me no harm. Do you think I want to kill you for your treasure? I kin become rich without it. If you’d like, I’ll promise to leave your treasure alone.”
“Treasure? What treasure? Are you addle-pated?”
“Your treasure. Everyone knows dragons sleep on piles of gold ’n’ silver ’n’ gems. It’s in all the stories.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Foolish human! What use would a dragon have for such things? Do you think I buy things in your markets? What pleasure would I have from sleeping on lumpy bags of gold and silver? I will admit that I admired pretty stones in my younger days in Bandalorin. But that was long ago, and I no longer care for them.”
“Where’s Bandalorin?
“That is the name of the continent where I hatched. I left ages ago, longer than you can readily appreciate because dragons live very long lives. I and some other young dragons came to this land to seek fun and adventure. Regrettably, we stayed and have been hunted down and slaughtered. Now I am alone, the last of the dragons of Orilon, who personally ate the last wizard of Orilon. Alone and hungry.
“If I remember rightly, and it was a very long time ago, he was standing just about where you are standing now. He had been hiding in that crack in the rocks to your right. But I persuaded him that I was nice, and would not eat him. Fool! Not as tasty as I had hoped. He was only a beginner with a bag of school books. A wizard needs to develop his skills before he becomes truly tasty. The brain is always the best part. Yummmm.
“Such an insulting thing to do, too. Bringing his bag in here, a bag made from the skin of some poor harmless dragon. How rude! So, wizard, how experienced are you? Will you provide me with a real treat for my palate?”
Ben began to sidle toward the crack in the rocks the dragon had indicated. It looked too narrow for the dragon to come into, and deep enough to protect him. He edged to within five feet, then ran into it. Should I tell him how inexperienced I am, ’n’ hope he won’t want to eat me? Should I tell him I’m a great ’n’ powerful wizard in order to skeer him? What if he don’t git skeered? What if his hunger’s greater than his fear? What’s this thing I’m sittin’ on?
He found a thick leather case under himself. A case, he saw once he lit his finger, made of dragon skin. The dragon had been so offended about the beginner’s book bag, made with dragon skin. Was this that bag? The beginner had been in this crack before comin’ out to be eaten. Mebbe I got the student texts I’m lookin’ for, right here! All I gotta do is get outta here with it. All I gotta do.
“I’m waiting, filthy human wizard! Are you powerful enough to make a proper meal for me?”
“Oh, yes, mighty dragon! I must not hide my powers from you. I didn’t know about the war between dragons ’n’ wizards because we wizards thought all the dragons was dead ages ago. Why talk about the dead past? I was never told more than that there used to be dragons. I don’t even know if you breathe fire or not.”
“Silly human fool! My lungs are as full of air as are yours. How could I breathe fire out, if I had none inside me? How could I have fire in my lungs and not roast myself?”
As the dragon continued his denunciations of human intelligence, Ben noticed something at his feet. He picked it up and found it was a dragon’s scale, folded nearly in half. The dragon musta laid on this scale after sheddin’ it, and his weight bent it. How tough are these scales?
Ben took out his dagger and tried to cut across the scale. He made a light scratch with his always sharp blade, so faint he could barely see it. Even against steel I should see a real scratch. This is incredibly tough!
“What are you doing in there?”
The dragon bent his huge head down to peer into the crack and saw Ben handling the scale and a dagger.
“Haw, playing with one of my old scales. See how strong they are! You are wasting your time trying to cut one of my scales with that little knife. Nothing cuts a dragon’s scale.”
As he spoke, Ben tried using his dagger down the crease in the scale where it had been bent. Now the blade cut, the scale having been weakened there. And the dragon saw the blade slicing the scale.
“What new magic is this? No one has ever made a magical blade that can cut dragon scales! It can’t be done!”
“I told you I was a great wizard. Now I want you to leave this cavern. I’m tired of talkin’ to you. If you don’t go somewhere else, I shall hafta kill you.”
“You pathetic little human, how could you kill me? Even with that sharp dagger? Do you not see how large I am? How could even a sharp sword reach my heart?”
The dragon opened his mouth wide and his tongue darted out at Ben. Ben jumped back just in time to avoid being snared by the long tongue. He pulled out his sword and slashed at the tongue, cutting off the last two feet of it. The dragon howled in pain and withdrew his head from the crack in the rock.
He stood there making a great noise with his mouth open. Ben was astonished to see the tongue repairing itself right before his eyes. In fifteen minutes the tongue looked totally undamaged.
“There! See now the power of a dragon! This is why wizards tried to kill us. Not just for our skin to protect their books, but for our healing abilities and our blood. They wanted to make magics for humans that would copy our abilities. They wanted to kill us so they could live forever. But they couldn’t. We won. We will always win against you puny humans! Slash away with your sword. I can heal myself faster than you can slice or stab me.”
“I don’t need to stab you to kill you, rash dragon. I kin kill you with the power of my mighty mind. I kin cast my powers at your heart from outside ’n’ crush it magically.”
“Pfaugh! Boasting and bluster! Such a thing cannot possibly be done!”
“No, then feel this as a sample,” warned Ben.
He stared right into the dragon’s throat, looking at the dragon’s uvula. I thought only humans had those. Never saw any other animals with that. Mebbe that’s how he can talk. He reached out with his mind, just as he did when casting a flame on something at a distance. Instead of lighting a flame, he thought about grabbing the uvula and squeezing it.
The dragon jerked back, alarmed.
“How did you do that? How could you do that?”
“I told you I could kill you with just my mind. You’ve felt how sharp my sword is, ’n’ it kin cut through your hide with ease. My mind kin penetrate into the center of your body ’n’ tear up all of your organs. Heart, lung, liver, everythin’. Leave while you kin. I’m gettin’ angry waitin’.”
As he talked to the dragon, Ben used all the persuasion he had ever used to seduce girls or put dukes to sleep. His voice became convincing, inducing an overwhelming sense that what he said was true. The longer he talked, the farther from him the dragon backed.
“I should have never come to this accursed continent. I was happy where I was hatched. Now I am alone and in danger. I will go to my homeland, and live with nice, polite dragons.”
And he stepped to the edge of the cavern and jumped off the ledge. As he fell forward into the air, he spread his wings and began to flap them. Slowly, then faster, he rose into the air and flew off to the east. Ben went to the ledge and watched the dragon disappear into the distance. Ten minutes later, Polly rushed to him and threw her arms around him.
“Oh, Ben, thank the Gods you’re all right!” she cried. “Hurry, let’s get out of here before the dragon comes out.!”
“Don’t worry, it’s already gone. There, see that speck in the sky? That’s the dragon, goin’ back to his homeland.”
“Ben, what’s all this talk about a dragon?” asked Vince. “You don’t still believe all those stories your granddaddy told you, do you? There ain’t no such thing as dragons, not anymore.”
“Oh, yeah? Come inside the cavern with me ’n’ tell me that.”
Ben led them all into the cavern and the years of dragon stench in the air almost made them run away. He showed them the scales, shed by the dragon over years, now lying on the floor of the cave. He showed them his two prizes.
“This is a dragon skin case, like the one I got. The dragon said it was left by a beginnin’ wizard, a student who was just startin’ to larn his magic. I think I have the key to the magical language now.”
“Really, Ben? That’s wonderful,” thrilled Betsy.
“Are you sure?” asked Horace.
“No, not yet,” admitted Ben. “I ain’t opened it to look inside. But if a novice owned this, ’n’ it was his ‘schoolbooks’ as the dragon said, then it’s gotta be. ’N’ here, proof that there are dragons. His tongue. I was hidin’ in this crack ’n’ he tried to grab me with his tongue. I cut it off with my sword. His scales was too tough to cut, even with my magic sword, but not his flesh. Then he showed me his magic, ’n’ regrew his tongue just like that, in no time.”
They passed the tongue around, looking in wonderment at its size and feel.
“Go ahead, lick a little of the blood,” suggested Ben. “I already done it. In the stories the blood is s’posed to do all sorts of wonderful things for you, ’n’ so is eatin’ the dragon’s heart. So far, the blood ain’t done anythin’ for me, ’n’ I only have the tongue, not the heart. Still, it should make a good meal for us tonight.”
“Fine, but can we leave this horrid-smelling place before I faint,” demanded Polly.
***
They had descended the mountain and made camp along a small creek near the bottom. The dragon’s tongue was on a spit, roasting over the fire. Everyone else stood looking as Ben finally opened his new case. It was bigger than the one he already had, and much heavier.
“There are two large books in here,” observed Ben. “This one is, um, let me turn a page, unreadable. It’s another grimoire, I guess. The other one is, oh, my, yes. YES! Look at this title page!
“This is it! It is! It is! Oh, thank you, all you wonderful Gods! Thank you, Humoparmia, Goddess of Magic! You will once more have a proper worshiper!”
The others flung themselves on Ben, hugging and congratulating him. Horace brought out a leather flask of brandy and passed it around.
“Ah bought that in Lugau just before we came south this time,” he declared. “The best brandy in town, the same distiller the count buys from. Ben, take the first drink. Ah bought this in anticipation of this moment, and you deserve it. Drink heartily!”
They all drank heartily. And amid the celebration, Polly looked into the new case. She pulled out several things that had been crammed into the bottom.
“What is this, Ben?” she asked, holding up a flask. “And these little boxes with strange markings on them?”
“Those markings look like the writing in my grimoire,” noted Ben. “The flask is interesting because the leather is the same as the leather of the case – dragon skin.”
He opened the flask carefully and sniffed at the contents. Very faint smell, odd, cain’t tell what it might be. Should I taste it? Not before I kin read the label on it. I need to be careful with this stuff. Until I kin read the language, I won’t know if this is helpful or poisonous. How much is in here? He pushed the stopper back in firmly and shook the flask. He felt the weight of the flask, but no motion of any liquid within it. He removed the stopper again and looked in with his finger flame to light the inside. All he could see was a mass of solid something. It mighta been liquid once, but it’s dried up to nothin’ now. Oh well, at least I won’t have to worry ’bout poisonin’ myself.
“I don’t know. It smells a little like the dragon’s blood we tasted, but it’s faint and all dried up. Speaking of dragon blood, is the tongue ready to eat yet? I’m starvin’.”
After dinner they sat around the fire and talked about the exciting day. Ben told all about his conversation with the dragon, and how he had intimidated it into fleeing. Tired and happy, they finally went to bed.
***
In the morning, Ben was quiet for a bit, then asked Vince a question.
“Are dragon scales worth anythin’, Vince? ’Cause we got a cave full of ’em up there. Dozens or more, just lyin’ all over the place. Would anyone pay anythin’ for them? I mean, they’re rare. This was the last dragon in Orilon, ’n’ it’s been hundreds of years since the others died. ’N’ these scales are really tough. I couldn’t cut one with my sharp blade until I cut along a place where it’d been folded over. Could we make shields out of them?”
“If we can’t cut them, how would we bind them together to make shields?” asked Jenny.
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” admitted Ben, crestfallen.
“Ben’s right, though,” agreed Betsy. “There must be a lot of people who would pay big money for a real dragon scale. Are they heavy, Ben?”
“Not too heavy. I was thinkin’ we could go around the mountain to that village ’n’ buy some big sacks. Fill the sacks ’n’ load them onto our horses. Take them to Rennigen ’n’ sell them for as much as we kin.”
“We’re not running low on money, Ben,” Betsy told him. “Though more is always good, and we probably should take advantage of this chance. But we’re still doing well. Or are you thinking of some special expense you haven’t told us about yet?”
“Well, Polly ’n’ I was talkin’ last night, after we celebrated,” began Ben, blushing a bit. “We was makin’ plans for ourselves, ’n’ you, if you all want to stay with us. Well, we want to git a house somewhere ’n’ stay in one place for a while. I got the grimoire, two of them now, ’n’ the book that’ll teach me how to read them. It’s goin’ to take me a long time to read all these books ’n’ larn how to do some real magic.
“I cain’t do that on the road, or even in an inn. Workin’ on the goblet showed me that. Too much noise ’n’ distraction. ’N’, well, if we take time out from travelin’, we’d kinda like to have some kids. Oh, I know we cain’t take kids on the road if we go adventurin’ again. But that won’t be for a while, will it? Polly’s got at least a little magic ability. In our village we usta breed sheep with good qualities together to git better quality lambs. So mebbe our kids’ll become wizards, too. Mebbe I ain’t ’splaining it well. But I need to take time to larn the magic stuff. It might take several years. We kin still go out once in a while, if you get bored. I might get bored, too.”
“I said last year, when Polly gave us Barnabas’ fortune, that I wasn’t interested in settling down,” Vince reminded them. “That was then. I still like livin’ wild, roaming all over. Even sleeping in the open on a chilly night. But some very important things have changed since then. I suddenly learned how deeply I love my wife by almost losing her. I was forgiven for an unforgivable sin. I no longer feel driven to earn absolution by fighting every brigand I can find.
“I thought of Ben as a weird kid who might be more of a liability than any help. I thought of Polly as just some rich girl gone wild, who’d run home at the first setback. I was wrong about both of you, and I apologize to the both of you. Ben, you earned my friendship when you healed my arm. Much more importantly, you earned my total devotion when you saved Jenny’s life, and I ain't never seen anything like that. I will go where you go and live the way you want to live, without hesitation.
“Partly that’s to help protect you, but you’re pretty good at protectin’ yourself. Any man who can chase a dragon off with just words probably doesn’t need my help. But I want to protect you and Polly. I owe you. You all know my past, my great sin. I helped kill one young girl, Katie, her life over before she could do anything with it. I’ve been forgiven, but I still feel a need to atone for that. Maybe now I can keep a young couple safe enough for them to achieve their desires.
“Killing brigands never brought me any relief from my guilt over Katie. I thought it would, but it only brought us money. That’s nice for us. But it did nothing for the pain I felt. Thinking of myself as a guardian for Ben, and Polly, has made me feel better. I realize that it’s because I’m not thinking about doing somethin’ for myself. Killing brigands was selfish of me. I was going to be the great avenger, the big hero. Oh, you all had parts to play, but it was about me. Taking care of Ben and Polly is all about them, not me. So, Ben, if you want a house, I’ll sit on your front porch and watch over you.”
“Vince, that’s the first major decision you’ve made since we got married without asking my opinion first,” declared Jenny. “And I know why. You know I feel the same way about them. And, you know, if they have some kids, those kids might get lonely without any playmates. We could provide them with some friends. It’s a thought, Vince.”
“Horace?” asked Betsy.
“You can speak for both of us, Betsy.”
“The road is fun, but not all the time, day after day, week after week. Inns are fine, comfortable, with meals we don’t have to cook for ourselves. But even inns get old. I don’t always like the monotony of the road, but I do love the adventure. And if we walked away from Ben and Polly, we’d be walking away from the greatest adventure we’ve ever had. I can see us getting free meals at every inn by telling stories of you two. But I don’t have an answer to the question everyone will ask, ‘Why did you leave them?’ Ben, Polly, we’re here for you as well.”
“You are all so, so kind, so generous, I don’t know, so much our friends,” gushed Polly, crying. “You talk about what Ben has done for you, and the little I’ve done, but you’ve done so much for us. Taking us in as members of your gang, the weird kid and the rich girl gone wild. It made no sense, but I’m so glad you did. We owe you a lot, too. We’ll both do our best to repay you all our lives.”
“Thank you, all of you,” continued Ben. “Vince, you keep sayin’ you cain’t repay me for savin’ Jenny. You don’t understand: I was repayin’ you for letting’ me come with you. That’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, well, ’cept marryin’ Polly. I owed you. We won’t make you regret this decision. ’N’ if you ever get bored ’n’ want to go on the road, just say so. I’ll drop everythin’ ’n’ go with you. Speakin’ of which, we oughta go to that village ’n’ git those sacks.”
***
“Do you think two hundred scales are enough?” asked Jenny. “There are still a lot more here. That dragon must have been shedding these things for a real long time.”
“The sacks are full and we only bought two big sacks,” noted Horace. “They look about two bushels capacity each. Hang one sack on each side of the pack horse, and it’s an easy load.”
“That should do, I think,” considered Vince. “I don’t know what a dragon’s scale is worth. No one’s had any to sell for centuries, so there’s no regular price. But I can imagine all sorts of people wanting to own a genuine dragon scale. If we were patient and sold these one at a time, we could get hundreds of moons for each one. People would pay a lot for the only one available. When they see we have lots to sell, they won’t be quite so eager to pay top price. But they will still pay a lot.
“We can sell these by auction to find what the market price is. I think we can get between fifty and a hundred moons for each one. That’s just a guess, though. And when they’re all gone, we auction off the map I’m going to draw, showing the way to this cave, and all the rest of the scales. That’ll be a real prize.”
“Ben suggested taking them to Rennigen,” commented Betsy. “I think we’ll do better in Olpe. It’s a little farther to get there, but it’s a richer city, with more possible buyers. Merchants, ‘antiquity’ dealers, even some Radalian nobles have houses there. Lots of people with money.”
***
The party returned to The Pear Tree inn on arriving back in Olpe. Lamar the innkeeper was overwhelmed.
“I’m so honored that you deign to return to my poor, humble establishment after what happened on your last visit.”
“Good master, we did not blame you for those thugs,” comforted Vince. “We are ourselves happy that you’ll welcome us back, after we spilled blood on your clean floors. We meant to stay longer that time, but we’ll be here for several days this time, we promise.”
The next day they went to the Temple of Pronustio to arrange for the sale of the dragon scales. A portly, prosperous looking priest named Gustavo welcomed them and asked what service he might provide to them.
“We got some things we’d like to sell at auction,” announced Ben. “I was told that the Temple of Pronustio is the preferred place for an auction.”
“Oh, yes, indeed,” confirmed Gustavo. “The great and generous God Pronustio encourages and inspires both buyer and seller to fair dealing. Any trade under His auspices is considered a good bargain by all. What do you wish to auction off?”
“We have two hundred dragon scales.”
“Dragon scales? Really? How could you have ever acquired dragon scales, and in such numbers?”
Ben told him the story of his visit with the dragon, leaving out his discovery of the book on magic. He said he chased the dragon away by claiming that a duke was approaching with an army to kill him. They were equipped with strong weapons that could undoubtedly kill any dragon. He explained that after the dragon left they collected as many scales as they could easily carry away with them.
“I gave one to the Scholar Remy at the Temple of Grasilos here in Olpe, because he gave me good advice. I’d like to send scales to the Scholars Ambrose in Rennigen ’n’ Wilfred in Lugau, but I don’t know how. Lugau is too far away for me to want to go there just for this. I’ve written an account of my talk with the dragon, too, ’n’ think they’ll find it interestin’.”
“Pronustio is the God of commerce and trade,” Gustavo informed him. “But we merchants who worship Him also perform minor tasks. One, not well known because it’s sometimes inconvenient for us, is delivering packages and messages to distant places. We travel there anyway, so there’s no extra expense to us. But finding the recipient is not always easy.”
“However, you want these delivered to priests of Grasilos in Rennigen and Lugau, and priests are easy to find. Rennigen is a short trip we do often. Lugau is quite distant, but I can arrange for the package to be handled by several Temples along the way. It’ll take some time to get there, but you understand how far off it is.
“You want to auction off the rest of these amazing things. I think you’re right in doing that. I could certainly not judge what a dragon’s scale is worth. We must get plenty of buyers lined up for this auction. The more wealthy buyers who come, the more you’ll make.
“Boys! Boys! Front and center!” he called out, and several young men came running from some back room. Gustavo wrote some short notes on scraps of parchment, and gave them to the men. “Take these messages to the merchants and ‘antiquarians’ of the city. You, take a fast horse and deliver this message to our Temple in Rennigen. Make sure the news is spread widely and swiftly. Go now, all of you!
“I must charge you a fee for holding the auction in the Temple, you understand,” he told Ben. “Our normal fee is a tenth of the total you receive. I personally would love to charge you just one scale, merely to have such a rare thing in our Temple. But the Temple has expenses, and loans money to people, so we must have an income. Still, I’ll charge you twenty scales, rather than take cash, if that is acceptable to you.”
“Hoping the price of your twenty will go up with time,” considered Betsy. “That’s fine with us. The price of twenty scales will likely be a tenth of the total, so we won’t lose. If you gain in the future, it doesn’t hurt us. And you’ll have at least one scale on display in your Temple in the meantime.”
“What about your fee to auction off the map to the cave with even more scales?” asked Vince.
“A map to the source of all these scales? Wonderful! I think I must revert to custom,” decided Gustavo. “One tenth of the total sale. I think this map will sell for a great deal, and make all of us very happy. Indeed, I intend to bid for it myself. Priests of Pronustio are merchants on their own, as well as priests of our God. I only hope I can afford to buy it.”
Ten days later, the auction began at noon. Dozens of men showed up from Olpe and Rennigen, eager to bid on the most fantastic items that they had ever seen. Proof that dragons did exist! Or had existed at some time in the past. Something no one had ever seen or owned! At least not in their memory. The rarest thing imaginable!
The first few bidders, afraid they might not get any scales, pushed the price up to the sky. More cautious bidders, looking at the pile of scales on the large table, realized that there were enough scales for everyone to get at least one, if they bid carefully. The last few scales were set out to a sated audience, and did not get high bids. But they still balanced off the earliest very high sales to give an average of just under one hundred moons each.
That night Gustavo sent a message asking the rogues to visit him at the Temple. When they got there, they were led into a room at the rear of the Temple. It was full of well-dressed men, many of whom they had seen at the afternoon’s auction, seated around long tables. They were given seats at the head of the table, next to Gustavo.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” welcomed Gustavo. “This room of the Temple serves as the guildhall for the merchants of Olpe. As merchants we are all priests and acolytes of Pronustio, so our meetings are held in His Temple. Pronustio encourages fair dealing in trade, and we’ve had some qualms about the offer we made you about the auction for your map to the dragon’s cave.
“I know we had discussed holding an auction for it, winner take all. But at this evening’s prayers, we all felt a sense of disapproval from Pronustio. Like most Gods, He rarely speaks directly or clearly to us, but He can give us a feeling that we’ve done, or are about to do, something He doesn’t like. We talked about this and realized that we were hoping to make a great deal more money from this than you were.
“Pronustio seems to think we are not dealing fairly with you, that we are trying to offer you a smaller amount than might be proper. We all admit that is what we were hoping to do. Pronustio dislikes greed, but we are human and fallible. So, on behalf of all of us, and our brothers in Rennigen, I would like to suggest a different arrangement. We will buy all of your scales still in the cave at the price set by today’s auction. The average sale was for ninety-eight moons each. We’re willing to round up to an even hundred moons. It is more generous to you and makes the calculations easier.
“Before we can do this, we must know how many scales there are. We can provide you with wagons, sacks, and workers to load up all the scales from the cave and bring them all here. I’d like to accompany you and so would the Scholar Remy, to see a dragon’s cave. Do you mind?”
“No, you’re quite welcome to come along, and any others as well,” declared Vince. “And I thank you for changing your offer. There are a great many scales there, and I suspect we’ll do better this way. But are you sure this is fair to you as well?”
“Of course it is. We expect to get more than one hundred moons for each scale we sell. We paid that much today, but as merchants we know how to get a better price when we sell than when we buy. We may have to wait a little for word to spread around Orilon about these scales. But anyone who wants one will have to come to us, and pay our price. Being generous to you now lets us gouge our future buyers. This is a greed that Pronustio allows.”
“Fine, then. How soon do you want to go? Tomorrow?”
“We need to get ready for this trip,” countered Gustavo. “We weren’t sure you’d approve of the change, so we couldn’t arrange the wagons and workers. I would suggest the day after tomorrow. Is that all right with you?”
“That’s just fine.”
***
A week later, tired from their trip, they brought their wagons to the warehouse of Thaddeus, one of the largest wool merchants. He collected wool from villages all over central Radalis and stored it in bulk. It took up a lot of space, all light and fluffy. It could be compressed for sale abroad, but its natural state was better for local spinners. His warehouse was currently empty and had a lot of space available for the sacks of dragon scales, and room to count the scales.
“Two thousand, four hundred and twelve scales,” announced Thaddeus. “Three of us have counted them, each on his own, and we’ve all reached the same number. My God! That means we owe these people over two hundred thousand moons! Such a soberingly large amount!”
“Yes, but we made the offer in the Temple of Pronustio,” Gustavo reminded him. “Even if we did not seal it with an oath to Him, it was made in His Temple. I think that binds us as fully as if we had sworn an oath.”
“I agree, Gustavo, I was merely thinking of the difficulty in coming up with so much money.”
“Neither you, nor I, have to find the total sum. We have friends who will want to share in the profit and so must share in the purchase. Tomorrow we’ll meet with all the merchants of Olpe and Rennigen. We’ll form a partnership to buy the scales, and each will contribute what he can. Is that acceptable to you, Ben?”
“Yes,” admitted Ben, still dazed by the result of the count, and the huge amount they were about to get. Over two hundred forty thousand moons! Twelve times what we stole from Barnabas, ’n’ everyone thought that was a great deal. Wow! What kin we do with it? What cain’t we do with it?
“Oh, um, could I keep the odd twelve scales,” Ben asked. “I’d like to have a memento of this adventure. ’N’ I might want to give some to people I ain’t met yet.”
***
By evening the next day the merchants sent for the rogues once again. The meeting room was even more crowded, with some of the merchants standing along the walls. Gustavo opened the meeting again.
“You see before you all the major merchants of Olpe and Rennigen, as well as many of the smaller merchants. We’ve spent the day negotiating the terms of an agreement between us all. We’re banding together in a partnership to buy your scales, at the price already agreed to, and to sell them to any and all who wish to buy from us.
“You might have thought this could be done quickly, but deciding how many shares to create, how much a small shareholder could influence the whole partnership, well, there were many things to debate, none of which need interest you.
“We’ve collected from each member of the partnership his share of the purchase price. Each partner has his record of his share purchase. The complete sum is in this chest. We’re aware that you plan to continue traveling, and have paid the money in gold. I’ve also written up an account of how you, a traveling band of rogues, happen to have so much gold in your possession. Twelve thousand suns rather than two hundred forty thousand moons. So much easier to carry on a trip. And such a drain on our gold reserves! Do you wish to count it? We will not be offended if you do.”
“Do you swear by Pronustio, here in His Temple, that this chest contains twelve thousand suns?” asked Betsy.
“We so swear!” answered the voices of all the merchants.
“Then we’ll trust your count. Gentlemen, good masters, we thank you from the depths of our being.”
There was much cheering and celebration. Merchants and rogues congratulated each other on the successful deal. A barrel of wine was wheeled in and tapped. The party lasted until well after midnight.
***
“I didn’t know we was goin’ to get so much,” Ben said in amazement. They were relaxing in the bar of their inn the next morning. Fearless was grooming himself in the middle of the table. “I only thought there was a few dozen scales up there. I had no idea how much people would want them, either. This is good, though, ’cause now we can buy a nice house ’n’ have money to live on for a while.”
“For a long while,” added Horace.
“We still have almost fifteen thousand left over from Barnabas, and the dukes, and the brigands,” calculated Betsy. “Twenty thousand more from the auction, plus this gives us over two hundred seventy thousand moons. We should convert thirty thousand more into suns, so our saddle bags don’t bulge so temptingly. I think we should get another pack horse to help carry the weight. Still makes us a target. Silly bandits who try to rob us, though.”
“What’s a mansion cost?” asked Jenny. “Do you have any idea, Polly? Your father was rich. Did he ever talk about the cost of an expensive house?”
“No, he inherited our house from his father. There wasn’t a lot of open land inside Grangus to build a new house, not that he was interested in doing that. Mother once asked him to build a summer house outside the city walls, but he told her that would’ve been inviting bandits. He was probably right about that.”
“We ain’t decided where we want to live, either,” observed Horace. “We’ve made a lot of friends here these last couple of days. And it’s a Free City, not dependent on some big shot ruler. Do we want to settle down here? Ben, we’re doing what you want. What do you want?”
“After the auction I went to see Remy at the Temple of Grasilos,” related Ben. “I had earlier given him his scale ’n’ the same letter I sent to Wilfred ’n’ Ambrose. He thanked me again, ’n’ we talked about dragons, ’n’ continents, ’n’ things.
“I asked him about Duke Mittanolo, ’n’ what he’s been doing. He ain’t threatened anyone else. Remy thinks it’ll take him a few years to get all of Ghanal under his full control ’cause it’s a much bigger realm than Phada. But there are already rumors that he wants to ’spand even more.
“I asked him about what places he thought was safe from Mittanolo. Obviously, we could go back north to Ethe. Amos would be happy to see us again ’n’ if we moved to Ochtrup he’d be glad to help guard us. But that’s a long trip. Remy suggested Taril, a kingdom west of here. It’s a shorter journey to git there, ’n’ it’s a peaceful ’n’ secure land.
“It’s the only kingdom in Orilon, ’n’ one of the few large realms that ain’t been aggressive against its neighbors. The king is happy with what he has, ’n’ his kingdom’s so big that his neighbors are afraid to attack him. I know that Mittanolo wants to be a king, but I reckon he wants to build his own kingdom. That’s the feelin’ I had when we talked the night I stole his coronet.
“Remy said that a week’s travel or two would get us well into Taril, west of the mountains. From there it’s easy to get ’round, lots of plains ’n’ rolling hills. We kin get boats on the Hart River. He showed me on the map they have in the Temple. You gotta look at it, Vince. I kinda understand maps, but not so well I know what he was showin’ me. ’Cept that we go west.”
“How did the kings build the only kingdom in Orilon without being aggressive?” asked Betsy. “That doesn’t make any sense. Every ruler on the continent wants something from his neighbors. That Duke Sonddor of Ilo has six neighbors and is afraid half of them want to invade his duchy. How could Taril have become a kingdom without conquering its neighbors?”
“Remy said the first ruler was a duke who walked away from the Big War,” recounted Ben. “His king hated him for it, but couldn’t spare any troops to punish him. A few others followed him ’n’ they banded together to guard their lands from brigands ’n’ such. He was such a good leader that years later they elected him their king. He promised to treat them well ’n’ apparently has.”
“I’ve never been to Taril,” admitted Vince, “but I’ve heard good things about their kings. Not just the current one, but his ancestors. One scholar said the kingdom was so big, the king had his hands full governing it. Expandin’ his realm would’ve given him too much extra work. Could be. Be nice to meet a king who knows his limits.”
“Okay,” agreed Jenny, “then let’s go back to the Temple of Pronustio and convert the rest of our money into suns, and ask them to hold it for us overnight. Tomorrow we go to the Temple of Grasilos to discuss the way to Taril. And tonight we celebrate!”
***
That morning, knowing they would be paid that evening, they gave the best inn in Olpe all day to prepare a magnificent feast for them. A small swan, veal kidneys, leg of lamb, eels, root vegetables, fruits, pies.
“Thank you, Ben, for this feast,” Vince raised a toast. “You wanted to go searching for wizards’ houses. You found the dragon’s cave, and your Treatise. You found the scales and wondered if there was money in them. So all this money is because of you. Thank you, from all of us.”
“You’re most welcome,” blushed Ben. “I didn’t know we was goin’ to make so much money. I do mean ‘we’ were goin’ to make this much. It mighta been my idea to sell the scales, but we each work for our mutual benefit. This is not my money, it’s our money, like the money we made from those brigands in Windleby. I’m not tryin’ to make myself rich ’n’ not share it.”
“What do you want to do with the money?” asked Betsy. “We thank you for calling it ‘our’ money, but you should have a greater say in how it should be spent. You wanted to learn how to become a wizard. You have the Treatise now. I suppose you want to use some of the money to live on while you study.”
“I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout this since we first found the scales,” confirmed Ben. “I told you when we found the scales that I wanted to settle down to study these books. Even before we knew how much the scales was worth, I was considerin’ our finances. I know worryin’ about our money is your job, Betsy, but I was wonderin’ how we’d live if we warn’t on the road all the time. I need to stay in one place for some time to study these books. I don’t even know how long it’ll take for me to become a decent wizard.
“We live by beatin’ up on brigands ’n’ such, sellin’ their horses ’n’ gear. You’ve all said we can all settle down ’n’ live comfortably. But if we don’t go lookin’ for brigands, how will we live? We have a lot of money now, but I didn’t know we’d get so much. I thought of this alternative to huntin’ brigands, that I could make copies of the Treatise ’n’ sell them. Mebbe translate the grimoires ’n’ sell copies of them, too. Lotsa people would probably pay a lot to have a readable book on magic.”
“Aren’t you worried about people reading these books and misusing what they learn?” asked Jenny.
“Not really. Do you worry about trainin’ people to use a sword? They might use that knowledge to kill people without cause. They might use that knowledge to protect people. You teach a skill ’n’ hope that the people you teach will use it responsibly. I want to do the same.
“I’ve only read a little of the Treatise so far, but it does say it’s useless if one don’t have any magical talent. How many people have the talent to sing really well, or draw really well? How many people will have the talent to perform magic? The Treatise gives exercises for buildin’ up one’s mental powers. They ain’t easy. How many will do the hard work of perfectin’ their skills? You all saw how hard I had to work to learn how to reshape that goblet. Lotsa people will learn how to light their fingers, smile ’n’ say ‘I kin do magic!,’ ’n’ stop there because the next step is too hard.
“I can charge a lot for copies of these books. Orville wanted ten thousand moons for a grimoire no one could read. How much would a readable one go for? If I kin sell a few of these every year, we’ll git a good regular income, without havin’ to fight for it. I’m also thinkin’ of setting’ up a school to teach magic to people who do have the talent. Polly is already larnin’ stuff from me. She kin read the Treatise with me ’n’ we kin both become great wizards. Teachin’ more students might be fun, too.”
“And Taril’s a nice, peaceful place to do that, ain’t it?” commented Horace. “Is that why you suggested we move there?”
“Yes, largely. Remy the scholar showed me a map of Orilon. Olpe is close to the center of this big section of the continent, but eastern Taril ain’t too far off center. It’s actually closer to the center of the whole continent, when you add in those western peninsulas. Olpe’s a nice city, but I’m too well known here now. I want to be less famous while I study.”
“That ain’t going to happen, Ben,” countered Vince. “When you demonstrate your magical skills, you’ll immediately become famous. But fame can be handled, with a little effort. You don’t have to live in the center of attention, you can decline invitations to dinners, you can choose your friends instead of letting others make you their friend. And we can help insulate you from too much attention.”