“Yeah,” Snowclaw said. “The last time I went to Earth I really got myself in trouble.”
Everyone at the table laughed.
Gene said, “Those headlines were great. ‘Abominable Snowman Stalks Western PA.’ And then there was the story in one of the tabloids: ‘Saucer Lands, Captures Bigfoot.’ Right up there with ‘Elvis Alive and Living in Scarsdale.’”
“If you hadn’t come along in that contraption of yours, I’d still be there getting shot at by the locals. I’m still digging buckshot out of my rear end.”
“Well, it wasn’t the first time I had to pull your chestnuts out of the fire.”
“And it might not be the last. Wait a minute — it seems to me that I saved your hide once or twice.”
“Just kidding, big guy. We made a great team, you and me.”
“Yeah, and now you’re off to get some book learning, and I’ll probably never see you again.”
“Are you kidding? We’ll get together again. There’re a hundred thousand worlds in this castle I haven’t explored yet, and I wouldn’t want anyone at my back but you.”
“Nice of you to say, Gene, old buddy. Same here.” Snowclaw hung his head. “Hey, I’m getting misty-eyed.”
“Don’t go maudlin on me.”
“I’ll live.”
Linda said, “You guys make a great mutual admiration society.”
Gene shook his head. “It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”
“I’m only kidding. Friendship is nice.”
Gene glanced up to the pendulum clock on the wall. The sign under it read: Eastern Daylight Time (Earth).
“Holy smoke, I’m late!” Gene gulped coffee, wiped his mouth, and threw down his napkin. “Gotta go.” He stood.
Snowclaw held out his paw, which was more or less a short-fingered hand with claws. “See you around, Gene.”
Gene shook paws. “Take care of yourself. I’ll be back, remember.”
“Right.”
Linda came up and hugged him. “Do good in school.”
“Will do. Don’t take any wooden talismans.”
Deena took her turn hugging. “Come back and visit, you hear?”
“Sure will. So long, Monsieur DuQuesne.”
“Au revoir.”
“‘Bye, everyone!”
Toting his luggage, Gene hurried out.
Linda sat back down and began nibbling at a croissant. She looked thoughtful.
She said, “I wonder if he’s making the right move. He needs adventure. Pasadena’s not going to provide that.”
“There’s always the Rose Bowl,” Deena said.
Three
Castle Keep — Guest Residence
“Are you coming?” Thaxton called irritably.
Dalton had stopped to chat with a servant and another guest. He turned his head. “Hold your horses.”
“Haven’t got all day.”
Dalton said goodbye and hefted his clubs. He came down the corridor toward Thaxton.
“Since when are you in a hurry to play golf?”
“Sorry, hate to stand about while somebody dawdles.”
“You are one irascible bloke.”
“I said I was sorry,” Thaxton said.
“I have to wheedle and cajole to get you to play golf and now you can’t wait.”
“You said you wanted to do nine holes before lunch, and I’m already hungry.”
“Why didn’t you fill up at breakfast?”
“Can’t eat a big breakfast usually. Stomach’s upset when I get up. Incipient ulcer. Been meaning to — hello, what’s this?”
Thaxton had stopped in front of the archway that led to the world of the golf course.
“Now, what the bloody hell is going on?”
Dalton rubbed his chin. “Looks different, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes. There used to be trees, then the clubhouse on the left, then the first tee.”
What they saw was a tee and a long beautiful fairway that doglegged to the right. The surroundings were familiar enough — dense forest.
“They must have cleared some brush,” Thaxton said.
“Must have,” Dalton said.
“What hole is this?”
“Don’t know.” Dalton crossed the boundary and continued walking.
“Where are you going?”
“To play golf,” Dalton said over his shoulder. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t like the look of it.”
“It’s a course, isn’t it?”
“Now, wait just a … oh, bother.”
Thaxton picked up his bag and followed.
Dalton was already teeing up. He straightened, walked to the edge of the terrace, and surveyed the course. There was a steep drop off the tee but most of the fairway was level.
“Looks about a par five,” Dalton said. “They must have done some landscaping.”
“When? There hasn’t been time.”
“Magic, I guess.”
Thaxton looked back. The portal was a standing oblong of grayness set against the greenery. “Shouldn’t we check with the groundkeeper? I can’t see the clubhouse anywhere.”
Dalton addressed the ball. “Oh, it’s around somewhere.”
“I want a caddy.”
“The exercise won’t do you harm.”
“See here. Are you going to just go ahead and play?”
“Why not? It’s a lovely course. Looks like they’ve thinned the rough out a bit.”
Thaxton scowled. “I don’t know about this.”
Dalton swung. The ball arched on a perfect trajectory and landed about two hundred yards down the middle of the fairway.
“Topping drive,” Thaxton said.
“Not so great on distance. One of these days I’m going to get some power into my swing.” Dalton picked up the tee and pocketed it.
Thaxton teed up. “I really wanted a caddy. Or at least a cart.”
“Complaints, complaints. I wasn’t kidding about needing exercise. My cardiologist used to insist on it. Back when I needed a cardiologist.”
“I need a drink.”
“Before lunch?” Dalton said archly.
“Don’t get on your bloody high horse. I’ve seen you swill enough at odd times of the day.”
“True, true. But never directly after breakfast. It hampers the digestion.”
“You mean it hampers the alcohol from getting into your blood.”
“That, too. Shoot.”
Thaxton made his shot. It was a horrible slice and the ball landed perilously near the rough.
“Damn it to hell. Bad lie, it looks like.”
“You’re still on the fairway.”
“Rotten approach to the green.”
Dalton sized it up. “You could have picked a better angle.”
“Let’s be off.”
They walked out onto the fairway. The wet grass was clipped short. The sky was overcast and a cool wind was up.
“Not the best weather,” Thaxton said.
“Seems good enough.”
Thaxton squinted at the sky. “Looks like rain to me.”
“Won’t rain if it keeps up.”
“What? Oh, spare me.”
They separated about fifty yards out, Thaxton veering to the right. Dalton reached his ball and rooted for an iron.
Thaxton had lost sight of his ball and searched for it, mumbling. At length he chanced upon it and threw down his bag.
“I can’t even see the bloody green!” he called.
Dalton pointed ahead, then addressed his ball.
Thaxton’s attention was drawn in the other direction, toward the tee. A sound like a great rushing of wind came from the sky.
“What the bleeding blazes …?”
The source hove into view. It swooped down from the sky, pinions flapping, green and golden scales shimmering. It landed on the fairway. The wings folded elaborately, the long barbed tail snaking to and fro. Its tapered head was many-toothed and golden-eyed, and pale blue flame fluttered from its mouth. A picket fence of triangular fins ran down the length of its back and tail.