The Dragon, the Earl ,and the Troll by Gordon R. Dickson
"Well, that's fine," said Jim, his spirits really beginning to rise. "That gives me plenty of time to sort out this problem of the Earl and the troll first, and anything else that needs attention. I could have the dragons come in on that last day, when everybody's at the tournament—everybody will be at the tournament when it's happening, won't they, Brian?"
"No one would miss it," said Brian. "Gentleman, lady, noble, meanest servant, tenant or serf."
"That's excellent, then," said Jim. "As I say, I can have the dragons come while the tournament's going on; and get the Prince away for a short while to go through the procedure of letting them all feel properly blessed. Then they can take off; and no one will know they've been here. That's magnificent!"
He poured some wine into the nearest cup and drank it in self-congratulation.
"But you're sure everybody will be at the tournament?" he asked Brian.
"Did I not just say so?" said Brian.
"That really couldn't be better," said Jim, talking as much to himself as Brian and Aargh. Suddenly another inspiration woke inside him. There could be the possibility of killing two birds with one stone.
"That gives me another idea. Brian," he said, "did I tell you that Angie said that all our guests very much enjoyed the reenactment of the battle of Sluys at the dinner on Christmas Day?"
"Did we not!" said Brian. "I could hardly hold back myself from rushing forward to join in the battle. Though of course I knew it was but a play and an acting; and also, of course, I was carrying no sword wherewith to fight, or any other parts of battle dress. But it was more real, James, than you can imagine!"
"So Angie said," Jim answered, thinking a little uncomfortably about how he had smiled at hearing about the primitive acting and staging Angie had described. "But it gave Angie an idea. She thought perhaps she and I, with your help, Brian, and of course yours, Aargh—and Carolinus and some others—might put on some such play for the amusement of the guests on one of the days of this gathering. The last day, maybe, after the dinner that will undoubtedly follow the tournament, would be an ideal time to do it. What she wanted to do was the Creche scene."
"Creche scene?" Brian frowned.
"You know," said Jim, suddenly realizing that Brian was unfamiliar with the idea, "the moment just after the birth of Christ, in the stable, with the donkeys and the oxen, Saint Mary and Saint Joseph, and the shepherds coming to worship the newborn King."
"Oh, indeed?" said Brian, in a tone of wonderment and admiration. "I had not realized—but, it is a marvelous notion, James. You should do so, by all means. I will be only too glad to help. So will you, won't you, Aargh?"
"Why?" asked Aargh.
Brian hastily turned his attention from the wolf and went on talking to Jim.
"But it would be an excellent thing for the last day," he said. "Particularly, since normally the twelfth day dinner is the end of all, and never before have they had something more to look forward to. You would put it on in the hall during the dinner, as the battle of Sluys was represented?"
"As a matter of fact," said Jim, "I was thinking that, if it was outside we'd be away from the castle, which is under the Bishop's blessing, and the scene could be improved upon because both Carolinus and I could possibly make it even better with a little magic—"
He broke off abruptly.
Both Brian and Aargh fixed their eyes on him.
"I just thought of something else that might be done—even better. At the tournament, itself," he went on, after a second, "I could perhaps solve the question of who the disguised troll is, with something else that also would be an entertainment. Brian, what would you think if, near the end of the tournament, a large knight riding a black stallion and armored entirely in black should appear, refusing to give his name—even better, refusing to say a word—but somehow he proclaims his challenge of any knight present who dares to cross lances with him?"
Brian's eyes lit up.
"It would be a great thing indeed, James!" he said. But then his face fell. "But whoever would play the part of the black knight would quickly be known by the rest of the guests, by their noticing who has been missing from among them up until now—for the black knight will have had to leave early, secretly, to armor and horse himself before he rides in."
"But what if the knight could be someone who is not one of the guests?" asked Jim. "Then they'd have no choice but to believe that he was what he seemed to be. He would be the largest knight in armor they had ever seen, on the most large and fierce war horse they had ever seen."
Brian's breath caught in his throat. The glow in his eyes reached new levels of illumination. But then it faded again.
"But if not one of the guests, who could this dark knight be?" he asked. "There are no gentlemen nearby who could play such a part, who would not have been invited to the castle for this Christmastide already."
A look of uneasiness came into his face.
"I hope"—he hesitated—"you are not thinking, that you or Carolinus, James, would raise some unholy spirit to ride against Christian gentlemen—and this was the reason you wanted to make this happen at the tournament grounds, because they are outside the blessing of the Bishop on the castle?"
"No," said Jim, still bubbling inside with enthusiasm, "no evil or dark spirit at all. Merely a Natural."
Brian's face became literally glum.
"I'm afraid it will not do, James," he said. "No gentleman should be cozened to a passage of arms with anyone less than another gentleman—let alone a mere Natural."
"But I've got an idea," said Jim. "Suppose the black knight does not pretend to be a gentleman."
"In that case, no one would deign to fight him," said Brian, promptly.
"Wait. Wait a minute," said Jim. "Listen to me, Brian. The creature would look like a large black knight in armor but he would not say a word, even to give his rank. Then someone among us guests might wonder aloud if he was not something from the nether regions. Then someone else—it could be me—could say something about, if the black knight was really an unholy creature, then it would be a gentleman's Christian duty to show that no such being should be allowed to pretend that he could stand against a true Christian gentleman; and I myself would be glad to ride against him."
"By Saint Brian, who is my namesake!" said Brian, lighting up. "You make a very cogent point, James. It is indeed the duty of a Christian gentleman to destroy such creatures of darkness. You need not offer yourself. I will do so."
"Well, actually," said Jim, "I was hoping that if I offered to ride against the challenger, in spite of his not being anything but possibly a dark spirit, other knights there would be eager to do so also; and since I'm known to be no great expert at arms, the others would take precedence over me, and I could politely let them all try first, if they wished—"
"I doubt not there would be those who would wish," said Brian.
"You see," went on Jim, "I'd hope to have this black knight win against all comers, so that he'd end up by winning the prize of the day—the crown, or whatever such reward is offered by the lady whom the Earl will name to hand it to the winner. That would give the black knight the chance to come up to the stand where all the guests will be seated—for I imagine the seats will be built by that time. He can pass by them slowly on his horse and come close to them all."
He stopped, triumphantly. Brian and Aargh looked at him.
"Don't you see?" said Jim. "That's why I'm thinking of making Mnrogar the black knight. It'll give him that chance to pass close to every one of the guests and smell out the other troll among them. Then, challenge him, or otherwise expose him. That'd solve his problem and the Earl's, too."
He waited.
Brian and Aargh did not move a muscle. They both stayed as they were, still looking at him. After what seemed to be a very long moment, Brian leaned toward him and put the back of his hand lightly against Jim's forehead, looking upward at the ceiling as he did so. After a moment he took his hand away.
"Strange,
"I'm perfectly all right!" said Jim. "What's the matter with you? It seems to me it's a good idea."
"A troll to joust with knights?" said Brian slowly, staring at him. "It would be easier to teach a mountain to wait on table."
"Well, as I say, I know there'll be problems," said Jim. "But surely in the time between now and the last day of Christmas we can handle them—"
A thought erupted in Jim's mind, and he broke off suddenly.
"Let me think a minute," he said to the other two.
Brian sat back in his chair agreeably. Aargh lay down on his side on the floor with every indication of going immediately to sleep; although, from past experience, Jim guessed that the wolf was still awake and continuing to watch him alertly.
What had occurred to Jim was the memory of Carolinus specifically saying that he could no longer be of help with any problem Jim might have, because of the current uproar in Magickdom about Jim having the privilege of extra magical energy. The big question was whether this meant that Carolinus could not even help him by giving advice. If it did mean that Carolinus could not advise him, then that explained why the elder magician had been completely out of touch with him lately—theoretically, it might endanger Jim's already fragile position.
Advice might be all that Jim could get right now; but he would need that. He had no idea of how to go about magically producing armor for Mnrogar, or producing a war horse for him. He had vague ideas of transforming an ordinary horse or something else into the necessary steed. These were things surely Carolinus could do—and if Carolinus would point him in the right direction, Jim ought to be able to work out how to do them himself.
But if he couldn't talk to Carolinus, there was a problem. He had gotten the impression from Carolinus before that there was no way he could talk privately to Carolinus without other magicians of at least the higher levels knowing that the two of them had been in contact. That would be the only reason that really explained Carolinus's staying away from him the way he had. But just now a remarkable thought had occurred to Jim. He could talk to Carolinus in the magician-proof secrecy of the Island of Lost Boys in the story of Peter Pan, as they had once before. All he had to do was call Tinker Bell—
He stopped himself abruptly. He had just remembered that he was still inside the castle, where his magic could not work. He stood up and began to dress.
"Come," he said. "I need to be elsewhere to try some magic." Brian's face momentarily showed the uneasiness about magic that was the reflex of the period; but he instantly rose to follow Jim. So did Aargh, though without readable expression.
Within minutes they were down underneath the castle, back in Mnrogar's den. Jim suspected that even this place smelled better to Aargh than the human habitation they had just left. But he set himself to his task, driving irrelevancies from him.
Mentally, he attempted to write, in capital letters on the inner side of his forehead, the magical spell:
ME TO TALK TO→TINKER BELL
Nothing happened. He tried it again. Still nothing. He tried concentrating very hard on the remembered sound of Tinker Bell's tiny silver-bell toned voice speaking in his ear… but it did not come.
He relaxed for a moment.
A new idea came to his rescue.
It did not have to be the island in the story of Peter Pan. Why couldn't it be any place in any story? Also—Carolinus was always hinting that he was trying to do his magic the wrong way. Magic, Carolinus kept saying, was an art; and Jim must remember that. And it was a fact that Jim was strongly influenced in the making of his spells by thinking of them as like something produced by a desktop computer on its screen as a result of his finger movement on the keyboard.
Carolinus had been trying to tell him something, but the difference between fourteenth- and twentieth-century thinking got in the way of Jim understanding. Perhaps magic actually was a matter of artistic concept, rather than an actual spell or message or command? Jim had already been able to transfer himself magically to Malencontri from somewhere else, or to where Carolinus was, successfully; and always he had done it by writing a spell; but also—he realized now—by visualizing the place to which he was going or the person he was seeking.
He tried again.
ME TO HOME OF→SHERLOCK HOLMES
In his mind he concentrated on imaging the room that had been described so well and so often in the stories about Sherlock Holmes—
And he was there.
It was the room as he had always pictured it. There were the nineteenth-century overstuffed armchairs. There was the mantelpiece with the curved stemmed pipe and ample bowl, thickly carboned inside; and the wall above it with the bullet holes spelling out S M.
Sherlock Holmes himself was nowhere in sight. A shorter, heavier man than Jim had ever imagined Holmes to be was standing with his back to Jim, facing a writing table.
The words "Dr. Watson, I presume?" sprang almost irresistibly to Jim's lips; but he forced them back. Just in time, too, as it turned out. For as he opened his mouth to speak, the figure before him walked backward from the desk toward the door in one wall of the room. The door opened before he touched it, he backed out, the door closed and Jim was left alone.
A slight glitch in his magic, Jim told himself. He was about to go back to where Brian and Aargh waited for him and start over again, when it occurred to him that there was another, possibly easier, way.
If spells were a matter of concept… he experimentally tried visualizing an analog watch, with the numbers of the hours arranged in a circle and the hour and minute hands sweeping by them—also a sweep second hand that he could clearly see was moving. He formed his mental vision with the second hand visibly sweeping backward. Then he stopped its turning, and started it circling forward again.
The door opened. The short, rather stout man came back into the room, stopped and stared at him.
"I say," he said in the exact voice of Nigel Bruce that Jim remembered from a number of Sherlock Holmes movies, "how did you get in here without Mrs. Hudson announcing you?"
"My name is James Eckert," said Jim. "It's vital that I talk to Mr. Holmes at once. Is he in?"
"A moment," said Dr. Watson. He stepped out of the room again, closing the door behind him. Through its panels Jim heard his voice calling, "Holmes? Holmes, there's someone…" The rest of what Watson had to say was in a lowered voice that did not come audibly through the door.
Jim waited. After a moment the door opened and Watson stuck his head in again.
"Mr. Holmes will be with you shortly," he said, took his head out and closed the door again, firmly.
Jim hastily did his best to visualize Carolinus, along with a desperate need to speak to him—he tried to confine himself only to the visualization and the emotion of needing to talk, without putting it into words. Surely Carolinus would sense his need, being the Master Magician he was; and not only understand that Jim wanted to talk to him, but where he was to be found.
He was not wrong.
There was something like a small thunderclap in the room. Suddenly, there was Carolinus, looking very much like a thundercloud himself, as he glared at Jim.
"How did you manage this?" he demanded. "I've been doing my best to keep my distance from you, because I knew you'd try to drag me in by the ear somehow. You might ruin what little good I might have been able to do you in this magical matter that concerns you and Angie! But how did you manage this?"
"Then I have got us in a place where we can talk without other magicians knowing?" Jim asked eagerly.
"Of course!" said Carolinus. "But how did you do it? Answer me at once, because your future and Angie's may hinge upon it."
Chapter 27
Jim told him. "I see," said Carolinus, brightening. "I imagine you've discovered for yourself by now why you didn't get an answer from Tinker Bell when you tried?"
"Because I only tri
Carolinus's face fell.
"Well," he said. "I suppose I should congratulate you anyway."
"Why, anyway?" Jim stared at him.
"Anyway, because you at least passed the requirement for being an actual Class C magician—still apprentice level, mind you!" said Carolinus. "An apprentice graduates from Class D to Class C when that apprentice stops using words to make spells and takes a step forward toward directly making Magick. So you're now a qualified C-class apprentice; instead of having a special appointment to that Class."
"Good!" said Jim.
"Worth something," growled Carolinus. "For a moment I'd hoped you'd achieved more than that."
"What more?" asked Jim.
"That," said Carolinus, "you'll still have to find out for yourself. But what you've done at least takes care of one of the complaints I've been faced with: that you'd been unfairly favored by being over-classed as a C. I still wonder how you managed to pick this as a place where we could speak privily. The stories concerned with it haven't been written yet."
"They have back where I came from," said Jim. "Just like the story of Peter Pan."
"Ah? Oh!" said Carolinus. "Hmm. It's a good thing we are where we can't be overheard right now. There are others in Magickdom who'd say merely the fact you know such future stories was another unfair advantage you had over other apprentices. But the answer to that, of course, would be that you did not deliberately come here, knowing you'd have the advantage. You came here voluntarily, but with no thought of Magick in mind. However, the larger question of your being favored with extra Magick in your account, even beyond the C level, is still the greater charge and problem."
There was a moment's silence.