Tales of Ethshar

“What is it?” Illure asked.

Seldis said, “Well, it’s got flowers like little bells, dark red ones, and little black berries.”

Illure stood and puzzled for a moment.

“I don’t think we have that, either,” she said at last. “If you want flowers, we have daisies.”

“No, I don’t want flowers!” Seldis snapped.

“Well, then, what do you want?” Illure asked.

“Never mind. Let’s just go back.” She turned and headed toward the village.

Wuller and Illure followed her, baffled.

Wuller glanced at Illure, wondering if this might be the best chance they would have for Seldis to slip away, but then he decided to wait. The Aldagmorite seemed far more worried than she had earlier, but still not frightened; Wuller thought she must still have something in mind, even without her magical herbs.

In the village they found Wulran glowering at them from his doorstep, and Kirna sitting nearby with a basket full of sausage casings. Other villagers were watching from a safe distance.

“Will these do?” Kirna asked, displaying her basket.

Seldis shook her head. “Those would be perfect,” she said, “but I’m afraid my idea won’t work. I couldn’t find what I needed. I guess I’ll have to think of something else.”

Wulran snorted. “Lady,” he said, “I guess you will, and quickly. The oracle said you could save us from the dragon, but you won’t do it by wandering the hills, and we can’t risk your wandering off completely. From now on, you’ll stay here, in the village, under guard.”

“But...” Seldis began.

“No argument!” Wulran shouted. The other villagers murmured.

Seldis didn’t argue. At Wulran’s direction, she was led into the house and sent into Illure’s room, where new brackets were set on either side of the door, and a bar placed across.

The window, too, was barred, and Seldis was a prisoner.

Wuller, quite involuntarily, found himself appointed her gaoler.

“She’s mad, and the mad are dangerous,” his father explained, out of her hearing, “but she trusts you. She’ll stay if you guard her. If she can tell us how to kill the dragon, all well and good, but if she can’t then we’ll put her out as tomorrow’s sacrifice. That must be what the oracle intended in the first place.”

Wuller didn’t try to argue. He knew Seldis was not mad, but he had no idea what she had been planning, and also saw that his father was frightened and angry and would brook no discussion.

Something would have to be done, of course, but not with words.

Wuller settled down at the door to Seldis’ improvised cell and waited.

Early in the afternoon, when everyone else had grown bored and left, he called in to her, “What’s so special about those plants you wanted?”

“Am I allowed to speak now, then?” she asked sarcastically.

“Of course you are. Listen, I’m very sorry about all this; it’s not my fault!”

“Oh, I know, but it’s so stupid! There’s nothing magical about dragon-killing; it’s easy, if you put a little thought into it. Everyone around here is just too scared to think! What good does it do to lock me up like this?”

“It keeps you from running away,” Wuller said, a bit hesitantly.

“But that’s idiotic. After walking all the way up here, why would I run away now?”

“Because...” Wuller began, and then stopped.

If she didn’t already know she was to be sacrificed, would it do any good to tell her?

Maybe not.

“Never mind that for now,” he said instead. “What’s so special about those plants?”

“They’re poisonous. Wuller, what are you hiding? What are they... oh, no. They aren’t really that stupid and superstitious, are they? A maiden sacrifice, is that what they’re planning?”

Wuller didn’t answer. Her answer to his question had brought sudden comprehension. He thought for a moment, and saw it all — not merely what Seldis had originally planned, but what they could do instead.

“Wuller? Are you there?” she called through the door.

“I’m here,” he said, “and don’t worry. Just wait until tonight. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” She laughed bitterly.

18

When Wuller brought in her dinner Seldis refused to speak to him; she glared silently, and after a muttered apology he didn’t press it.

Later, though, when the others were all asleep, he carefully unbarred the door, moving slowly to avoid making noise or bumping anything with the heavy bar.

“Come on,” he whispered.

She stepped out quickly. “Where?” she asked. “Are you just letting me go?”

He shook his head. “No, no,” he said, “we’re going to kill the dragon, just as you planned. I’ve got a sheep tied outside, and Kirna left the basket of sausage casings; everything’s ready.”

“You found wolfsbane? Or nightshade?”

“No,” he said. “Those don’t grow around here.”

Seldis started to protest.

“Hush! It’s all right, really. I know what I’m doing. Come on, and don’t make any more noise!”

She came.

In the morning Wulran found his son sound asleep, leaning against the barred door of Illure’s bedroom. Wuller looked rather dirtier and more rumpled than Wulran remembered him being the night before, and Wulran looked the lad over suspiciously.

He hoped that Wuller hadn’t gone and done anything stupid.

He wondered if there was anything to the stories about dragons demanding virgins for sacrifice.

How could a dragon tell, though?

More magic at work, presumably.

Whatever magic was involved, Wulran hoped that the girl was still in there to be sacrificed, and hadn’t slipped out in the night. What if the boy’s dirt came from chasing through the woods after her?

He poked Wuller with a toe. “Wake up,” he said.

Wuller blinked and woke up. “Good morning,” he said. Then he yawned and stretched.

“Is the girl still in there?” Wulran demanded.

Wuller looked at the door, still closed and barred, and then up at his father. “I think so,” he said. “She was last I saw.”

“And she’ll be there when we come to get her for the sacrifice?”

Wuller yawned again. “You can’t sacrifice her,” he said. “I already fed the dragon this morning, just before first light. It’s probably dead by now.”

“What’s probably dead by now, a sheep? You fed it a sheep?”

Wuller nodded. “Yes, I fed it a sheep, and of course the sheep is dead, but what I meant was, the dragon is probably dead.”

His father stared at him.

“What?” he asked.

Wuller got to his feet.

“I said, the dragon is probably dead by now.”

“Have you gone mad, too, now?” Wulran asked. “I didn’t know it was catching.”

“I’m not mad,” Wuller said. He didn’t like his father’s tone, though, and he suddenly decided not to say any more.

“Step aside, boy,” Wulran demanded. “I want to be sure she’s in there.”