tongues, I wouldn’t be here, I’d be safe at home working as an interpreter.”
Somewhat mollified, Elner accepted that and asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell us you were a wizard, on the way here?”
Tobas shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered. As I said, I’m not much of a wizard at all, really.” He saw no point in lying about it, but no point in admitting the sorry truth in detail, either.
“I’ve heard that mighty wizards will sometimes slay dragons in order to drink their blood,” Tillis said. “Dragon’s blood is said to have great magic in it.”
“You don’t just drink it!” Tobas said, startled.
“But it does have magic?” Elner said.
“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Tobas admitted, remembering Roggit’s precious jar of the stuff. The old wizard had begrudged every drop, but had used it in a wide variety of spells, none of which he had lived to teach Tobas.
“So that’s why you’re here!” Elner exclaimed.
“No, it isn’t,” Tobas insisted. “I’m here for the same reason as the rest of you, I couldn’t find anything more secure back in Ethshar.”
“But you’re a wizard?” Arden asked.
“A very poor one.”
“But you are a wizard?” Peren insisted.
“Yes, I’m a wizard!” He was almost shouting. “What difference does it make?”
“Before you came in, we were talking about how we would team up,” Arden said. “Since not everyone here speaks the same language, we can’t go with just anyone.”
“I shall accompany a prince!” Tillis announced. “Prince Thed of Mreghon has agreed to permit me to join his noble band in pursuit of the monster!”
“The prince speaks Ethsharitic?”
“Certainly, as well as you or I do!”
“What I want to know,” Elner said, “is where in the World Mreghon is. I never heard of it, and nobody here in the castle seems to know.”
Nobody had an answer to that.
“Have the rest of you made plans?” Tobas asked.
“We were thinking of staying together, the three of us,” Arden said, indicating Elner and Peren.
“You’ll need two more,” Tobas pointed out. This seemed as likely a group as any to join.
Elner shrugged. “Oh, we don’t need anyone else. I suppose we’ll take two more if the king insists.”
Tobas thought about making his request plainer, but his pride rebelled. He had been plain enough. If these fools did not want a wizard along, he would accept that.
He had another three days to find companions; there was no need to hurry.
CHAPTER 12
Three days passed quickly. Five by five, the adventurers set out for the hills, starting on Tobas’ second day in the castle; each night the dining halls were a little less crowded.
The castle armory was also partly emptied, as well as the dining halls, though Tobas noticed that only the second-rate, bent, ill-balanced, or rusted swords were handed out. When he finally decided that he should have a sword, even though he didn’t know how to use it, he spent over an hour coaxing a decent blade out of the armorer, using dire threats of magical vengeance and unbreakable curses; and even then, he found a few rust spots and had serious doubts about the metal’s temper.
He asked several Dwomorites about the dragon and got a variety of descriptions. It was said to be blue, silver, black, or green and anywhere from forty to a thousand feet long, with the most common estimate fifty or so. One woman claimed it could fly, another that it recited poetry to its victims before devouring them. Everyone agreed that it was scaly and shiny and shaped much like the traditional storytellers’ dragon, that it breathed fire, that it ate people, and that it had a very nasty disposition. No one had any useful suggestions on how to go about killing the creature.
Among the various foreigners, no one he spoke to seemed the least bit interested in taking a wizard along with his party while hunting the beast, at least, no one who spoke Ethsharitic. A rather sickly-looking prince from somewhere called Teth-Korun expressed interest through an interpreter, but Tobas reluctantly turned him down; the language barrier would be too much trouble. The prince didn’t even speak Dwomoritic; his native tongue, the interpreter said, was Quorulian, and his only other language a variant of Trader’s Tongue. He lived in virtual linguistic isolation, since only one other person in the castle, a minor official of some sort, spoke Quorulian; Tobas pitied him, but not enough to join his party.
Although Tobas made it a point to find the other magicians, none of them were any more interested in his company than were the various princes and fortune hunters. The sorcerer spoke no Ethsharitic; the theurgist knew only a few words and phrases, most of them religious in nature, and seemed to be generally suspicious of everything about Tobas. The wizard finally concluded that the priest had gotten wizardry and demonology confused, somehow; naturally, no theurgist wanted anything to do with a demonologist.
The witches could all speak to him; only one had actually learned Ethsharitic in the normal way, but the other two had enough magic to pick it up as needed. Witchcraft, Tobas had heard, was very good at that sort of thing; many witches had the gift of tongues. In other schools of magic, it was rare and difficult to achieve.
Ease of communication did not matter, however, as all three wanted nothing to do with him. The three worked as a team and made it plain, politely but unmistakably, that they needed no wizard, with his tools and chanting and ritual, getting in their way. They seemed to consider wizardry somehow old-fashioned and unreliable.
Tobas, for his part, had always considered witchcraft to be a sort of poor relation of true magic, since, in all he had heard as a child, witches tended to be very limited in what they could do and traditionally lived in genteel poverty, unable to compete with the mightier magicians, the wizards and warlocks and sorcerers and the rest, who often became quite wealthy and powerful.
He had to admit, though, that his one pitiful spell was probably of less use than even the feeblest witchcraft. A witch could light a fire without athame or brimstone and with no need of gestures or incantation. Thrindle’s Combustion did not require much in the way of ritual or preparation, but it called for more trappings than any witch needed. Disappointed, he gave up on the idea of teaming with a witch and perhaps picking up a little of the craft.
Tobas had also hoped to see more of Alorria, but was disappointed in that; with several dozen adventurers around, Alorria could spare little time for any one, even the only wizard. Her mother, Queen Alris, was not particularly impressed by claims of magical power and did not allow any of the princesses to show undue favor; after all, any one of them might find herself required to wed any one of the dragon hunters, and any premarital attentions to others might crop up unpleasantly in later years.
He thought that Alorria seemed somewhat disappointed, almost as disappointed as he was, when her mother the queen would come and chase her away from him to take a turn speaking to another adventurer. He hoped that this wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part.
He had not even realized that first night in the castle that Dwomor still had a queen, but her Majesty Alris of Dwomor certainly made her presence felt during the rest of his stay; it was she who actually ran the household. The king and his courtiers were responsible for the country as a whole; the queen and the Lord Chamberlain were responsible for the castle and everything in it, including the people.
That meant the queen and the Lord Chamberlain were the final authority on who slept where, who ate when, who could see the armorer, who could practice swordplay or magic in the courtyard, and who could speak to whom. Tobas discovered that, as a commoner, he was not allowed any contact with several members of the royal family. The king and queen could do as they pleased, of course, the five princesses had a special dispensation in light of the prospects for marrying one of the adventurers, and not even Queen Alris could control the widowed Queen Mother, but the three young princes — Derneth and Alris had not produced females exclusively — were
