The guard, after an instant’s hesitation, called out, “Who goes there?” in Ethsharitic, speaking with a thick, ugly accent.
“Peren the White, the witch Karanissa of the Mountains, and the mighty wizard and dragon slayer, Tobas of Telven!” Peren announced. He tried to look impressive despite the filth still marring his white hair, the tattered condition of his breeches, and the shredded near-absence of his tunic. Tobas looked somewhat better, his clothes being intact, and Karanissa had used her witchcraft during the journey to restore herself to her best appearance.
“What... ah, what is your business?” the guard managed in his ugly Ethsharitic.
“We have come to claim the reward due us for killing the dragon in your hills,” Peren replied.
“Dragon? Killed? Really?” the guard asked with evident surprise.
A smile appeared unbidden on Tobas’ face; Peren fought his down, but did not speak. “Yes, really,” Karanissa said, then repeated herself in her improvised witch’s Dwomoritic.
“Let us in!” Tobas demanded, drawing his athame dramatically.
The guard still hesitated; Tobas gestured and spoke, setting the left sleeve of the man’s surcoat afire.
The effect was quite dramatic; he could hear several of the watching Dwomorites suck in their breath. He immediately regretted his hasty, impulsive action, though; attacking the guard was no way to make himself welcome. Besides, he did not want to overuse his spell; his supply of brimstone was finally running low, as he had spilled some when he exploded the dragon.
The soldier beat out the fire and stared out at the strangers, his initial surprise and wonder replaced with fear and anger. “Open this gate,” Tobas demanded, keeping up the role he had established, “or it’ll be your beard next time!”
The guard glared out for another second or so, then turned to obey. With much cursing and creaking, the portcullis was raised, and half a dozen soldiers appeared to usher the party into the courtyard. Two started to pick up the tapestry, but Peren and Tobas stopped them, preferring to carry the precious hanging themselves.
Once inside, they lowered the tapestry and stood silently, trying to seem calm and aloof, while Karanissa looked around at the sorry state of the castle in evident dismay. At the behest of the commander of the little detachment of guards, a civilian messenger ran to report their arrival.
Naturally, they were not immediately taken in to see the king; instead, various people, presumably officials, none of whom spoke a word of Ethsharitic, came and studied them where they stood. Karanissa did not bother to strain her witchcraft sufficiently to follow what was said; instead, one or another of the three foreigners simply demanded, “Speak Ethsharitic!” each time a new person appeared and addressed them in Dwomoritic.
After an hour of such delays, the gatekeeper they had first spoken to, whose sleeve Tobas had set afire, reappeared and instructed them in barely intelligible Ethsharitic to follow him into the castle. They obeyed. A moment later they finally found themselves seated at a table across from the Lord Chamberlain.
“So you claim to have slain the dragon,” the chamberlain said without preamble.
“We have slain the dragon,” Tobas replied.
The chamberlain shook his head. “You are by no means the first to make that claim. We have sent out seventy-four self-proclaimed dragon hunters; we have good evidence that over half simply deserted. After accepting our hospitality, they simply left the country without ever trying to kill the beast. A few others, who made the attempt in good faith, were evidently killed. Another few made unsuccessful attempts and escaped alive, I believe that your former comrades were among those; in fact, they told us, if I remember correctly, that the two of you had fled eastward over the mountains rather than return to admit failure. Still others, besides all those I have mentioned, have returned claiming to have killed the monster, but none could prove their claims. One went so far as to bring back the head of a dragon, but only a very small one and not at all fresh, obviously not the right one. Now you march in here with no evidence to support your story, no details of how you slew the creature, but only with this mysterious great roll of cloth you will let no one touch, and expect us to accept you as heroes immediately. I regret that we cannot do that. First, you must prove your claim.”
“We will be glad to do just that,” Tobas replied, “if you will provide us with the necessary men, beasts, and wagons to haul the dragon’s remains back here. We weren’t strong enough to lift the head after we decapitated the monster, let alone its body. Its blood you see all over us.” He held out the encrusted front of his tunic.
The chamberlain looked startled. “Oh? Then you really did kill something? And you left the carcass untended?” “That’s right,” Tobas agreed. “We didn’t have much choice. It’s about a day and a half from here. Any of us can show you.”
The Dwomorite sat back, contemplating the three, then asked sharply, “How big was this dragon? And what color?”
“It was blue-green, and, oh... what would you say, Peren? Sixty feet long?”
“About that,” Peren agreed.
“How did you kill it?” the chamberlain demanded.
“Magic,” Tobas answered.
Seeing that their questioner was not satisfied, Peren added, “Fire-magic. My companion here, the mighty wizard Tobas of Telven, blew its neck to pieces with a single spell.”
“Forgive me if I still have reservations,” the chamberlain said, polite once again and apparently at least partly convinced. “But how is it that you took so long to accomplish the task? You departed well over three months ago.”
Tobas shrugged. “We found other matters to occupy us for a time.” He gestured toward Karanissa and the tapestry that lay against one wall.
“Look,” Peren said in his most reasonable tone. “We don’t expect you to pay us here and now; get some wagons, and I’ll show your men where it is. Tobas and Karanissa will stay here in Dwomor as hostage for my good behavior; I’ll leave the tapestry and everything else with them.”
“I don’t know,” the chamberlain said. “You could intend to lead my men into a trap.”
“Arm them, then! And if I were planning any treachery, would my companions allow themselves to remain as hostages?”
The Dwomorite considered for another moment, then nodded. “I suppose not, not if they knew about it,” he said. “All right, then; we shall see if you have done what you say. Remember, though, if this is some sort of trick, that you did not see all of this castle during your previous stay here; there are dungeons enough for the three of you.”
“Your dungeons don’t concern us; we want nothing but what we have earned,” Peren said as he rose.
CHAPTER 31
The three of them were given the use of a suite of rooms on the second floor of the castle, around a corner from the princesses’ wing, consisting of a small, cozy sitting room, a small bedchamber Peren appropriated that had probably originally been intended for a valet, and a large and elegant chamber equipped with a magnificent canopied bed. Although Dwomor Keep was still well populated, the departure of dozens of dragon hunters had left the place with considerably more free space than when Tobas and Peren had last seen it; and as guests who might have actually won the right to marry princesses, they rated significantly better accommodations. As best anyone could recall, a prince had shared this suite with a lesser noble during those closing days of Summersend.
Peren stayed to rest for only one night before departing again, leading a caravan of wagons, soldiers, assorted workmen, and curiosity seekers into the hills, intent on bringing back proof of the dragon’s demise. Tobas and Karanissa watched him go from the battlements and then adjourned to their splendid bedchamber to make the best of his absence. Their rooms in Dwomor were far more suitable for a honeymoon than the open country or ruined cottage had been.