"I don't have to live forever. I just have to bury your sister's dwelling place in the backyard, and—tell me, Quentin—who's going to dig it up? How many thousands of years before erosion finally exposes it? And even then, you don't know what her container is made of. But I'll give you a hint. It isn't biodegradable."
Quentin could hardly breathe, he was so filled with impotent rage.
Roz got up from her father's lap and skipped to the stairs. "I'm just a little, little girl," she said. "You shouldn't be so mad at me."
"I want you to die," said Quentin.
"Someday I will. Now say good-bye to my parents."
She bounded on up the stairs.
Almost at once, Mr. and Mrs. Duncan came back into focus. Ray looked quite startled. "I must have dozed off, for heaven's sake! What was I thinking of?"
Rowena, however, had an unutterable sadness on her face as she looked up at Quentin.
"I can't deny it anymore," she said. "My daughter rules me, doesn't she?"
"Only because you love her," said Quentin. "Though how and why, I can't guess."
Tears flowed down Rowena's cheeks. "Because she's mine. Because I'm not my mother. I love my children."
"Your mother loved her children too," said Quentin. "But give your mother credit for this much: The beast stole her child. She didn't raise hers to be a monster."
"Do you dare to judge me?" said Rowena.
Quentin shook his head. "I don't judge you for what you've done, or haven't done. But if you let her do what she's planning, then I blame you, yes."
"I don't care what you blame me for," said Rowena. "I'm not my mother!"
"Too bad for the human race," said Quentin. "Too bad for your daughter. She thinks she can control the beast."
Suddenly Rowena and Ray went slack again. Roz appeared at the top of the stairs.
"That's enough, Quentin," she said cheerily. "A little learning is a dangerous thing."
"And absolute power corrupts absolutely," Quentin answered.
"Bite me," she said. Then she gave him a little wave. "Open the door and out with you, babe."
He wanted to think of something he could say that would wither her with its brutal cleverness. But nothing came to mind. And there was no point in trying to talk to Rowena and Ray, not when they were in this condition.
"Roz," he finally said.
"Yes, Tin, my pet?" She spoke the term of endearment so ironically that it cut him to the heart. Because he would be her pet, if she won her gamble. If she lost, he would still be the dragon's mount, the beast's own steed, and Lizzy would never get out of prison.
"Maybe I'll do it," he said.
"Lizzy will be so glad to hear it."
"You've got to bring Lizzy with you. Whatever you've got her in, bring it."
"Not a chance," said Roz. "You think I'm stupid? I'm just a widdow widdow girr." Her baby talk made him want to smack her all over again. "We wouldn't want nasty badums to stwangow me, would we?"
"As if I could."
"Just in case you get any ideas about that," she said, "remember that I'm not an illusion like Madeleine was. If it comes to a fight between us, I'll win. You can't fight a witch, Quentin. You aren't that strong."
"If I decide to do it, how do I let you know?"
"I'll know, you big silly goof." She did her cutesy giggle again.
"What makes you think you'll succeed this time, when last time you failed?"
"I have a better plan."
"For instance?"
"I'll be there myself this time," she said. "And there'll be a little less interference."
"You're no match for your grandmother, if that's what you mean."
"I'm a match for anybody," she said. "I'm younger than Alexander was when he inherited his father's kingdom."
"You're not as smart as you think you are."
"You're not smart enough to judge. Now go away, Mr. Fears. My parents get so stiff and sore when I put them out like this, sitting up."
Quentin opened the door and left, the door ajar behind him. He was halfway down the steps when he heard her. "That was a childish gesture, Quentin! Leaving the door open! What a big baby!"
He ignored her and returned to his car.
There had to be a way to stop her. The trouble was, he didn't know enough to have any hope of discovering it. But that was all right. Mrs. Tyler wanted to see him again. She would help him figure out what to do to get Lizzy free without turning loose the beast upon the world.
Though he also knew that if it came to a choice between Lizzy's freedom and saving his own life, or even saving the world, he wouldn't even have to think about it. His own life was worthless to him now. And the world? The world could take care of itself. The dragon had been abroad in the world before, and the world survived. Besides, even dragons don't live forever. Peter, Paul and Mary didn't know what they were talking about.
Dragons die, yes. Wouldn't that be a joke on Roz and the beast, both? If he took a huge dose of poison just before opening the treasure box? Let the dragon have his body, and then it drops dead!
But that wouldn't get Lizzy out of the prison. He had to have a better plan than that. Mrs. Tyler would know what he should do. He had to get back to Mrs. Tyler.
17. Hair
Quentin called the rental car company and explained why the car he rented at La Guardia was about to be left at Dulles. The clerk he talked to had a singsong nasal voice, which would have been annoying enough by itself. What really drove him up the wall was her air of complacent superiority and utter unwillingness to admit the tiniest shred of merit in Quentin's position.
"That car isn't authorized for return at another airport, sir."
"But that's where it's going to be returned."
"But you can't return it there, sir."
"But that's where I am."
"You signed a contract promising to return the car to La Guardia."
"There was a storm. La Guardia was closed down."
"A contract is a contract. Don't you keep your contracts, Mr. Fears?"
"I'm trying to return the car. You have an office at Dulles."
This cycle was repeated about three times before Quentin finally lost patience. He didn't raise his voice. In fact, he spoke more quietly. "Let me explain it to you very simply. You don't have a choice because I didn't have a choice. La Guardia was closed and I had to get to DC. Now I'm here, and I'm flying back to New York from Dulles. FAA regulations won't allow me to check the car as luggage."
"You signed a contract, Mr. Fears. If you don't intend to—"
Quentin was fed up with being accused of breaking his word. "I'm saying this only once. If you want to talk instead of listening, that's fine with me."
"Go ahead, Mr. Fears."
"I paid for the collision damage waiver. That means if I wreck the car I don't have any problem about not returning it. Also, if the car is stolen I'm off the hook. So either you can have your people at Dulles accept the car, or I'll leave it at a Seven-Eleven with the keys in the ignition and the motor running, and you can have your insurance company reimburse you. Which will it be?"
"You'll have to speak to my manager."
"I have a better idea. You speak to the manager. If he or she has any questions, here's the number of my attorney."
Quentin put his kit into a bag along with his last clean shirt, socks, and underwear. He'd buy more if he needed it. He also took his cellular phone, and on the way to the airport he called Wayne Read and told him about his problem with the rental car company.