Talking to Dragons (21 page)

“Dwarves!” I said. They must have heard the echo, because two of them looked up and saw us. One of them shouted something, but I couldn't make out the words.

“Terrific!” Shiara muttered as they started in our direction. “What'd you have to do that for?”

“They'd have seen us anyway,” I said. “I mean, we'd be sort of difficult to miss, with the key lighting up the tunnel like this. And maybe they'll help us. Dwarves do, sometimes; Mother had me study a whole lot of examples two years ago, after the prince came through looking for the glass coffin.”

“I thought princes looked for glass
shoes,
not coffins,” Shiara said. She squinted into the dark part of the tunnel between us and the dwarves. “They're coming this way. What's that in front of them?”

I didn't have to answer, because a second later Nightwitch came bounding out of the darkness with her tail held very high. She looked extremely proud of herself. She went straight to Shiara and started rubbing against her legs and purring.

“I'm glad to see you, too,” Shiara said. She started to bend over and winced. “Sorry, kitten; you'll have to wait to get petted until somebody does something about this stupid arm.”

Nightwitch stopped rubbing and looked up. “Mmrew?”

“Well, I said I was sorry,” Shiara said. “I didn't
ask
to break it.”

The dwarves had reached the edge of the key's glow, and the whole tunnel was lit up by their torches. It made things a lot more cheerful, as well as letting me get a good look at the dwarves. There were seven of them, five males and two females, all carrying shovels and picks. I could see the dragon in back of the dwarves, looking almost as smug as Nightwitch had.

“Look!” it said when it got close enough to talk without shouting. “I found a whole lot of dwarves!”

“I see that,” I said. I bowed to the dwarves as well as I could while trying to watch the quozzel at the same time. “My name is Daystar, and that's Shiara. We're very pleased to meet you.”

“They're going to dig through the part of the tunnel that came down,” the dragon said.

“Hold on just a minute!” one of the dwarves said. “I didn't say I'd help. Not exactly. I said I'd look at this cave-in of yours.”

“Me too,” said another. “Proper mess it looks.”

“Not natural,” said a female dwarf. She looked at Shiara and me suspiciously.

“How do you know?” Shiara said belligerently.

“We made this tunnel,” still another dwarf said. “And dwarf-made tunnels don't just fall in.”

“Not ever,” agreed the first one.

“Of course not,” I said. “The quozzel made the tunnel cave in. It was trying to stop us from getting out of the Caves of Chance.”

“The quozzel?” the dragon said, looking interested. “That dessert thing is back again?”

“You can't eat it until we find out if it knows anything else,” I said. “Besides, you had plenty of lunch.”

The dragon sighed. “I suppose so. All right, I'll wait.”

I looked at the dwarves. “We'd be very much obliged to you if you would help us get through this, or show us a way around it, or something,” I said.

“Now, why should we do that?” one of them said.

“I don't see any reason,” said another.

“Lot of work for nothing,” added a third.

“And I don't like dragons!” said a voice from the middle of the group. The dragon glared, but it couldn't pick out the dwarf who'd spoken.

“Could you at least set Shiara's arm?” I asked.

One of the female dwarves started to reply, but she was cut off by a yell from Shiara. “Daystar! Behind you!”

I raised the sword and spun around just as the quozzel bunched itself together and jumped at me. It came flying through the air, and I ducked. Something dark and purple shot out of it toward me, and I slashed at it with the sword. I got most of the purple stuff and part of the quozzel as well. I heard it shriek, and then it had landed and launched itself again, straight for the wall of the tunnel.

“I'll kill all of you!” it whistled angrily. “Key stealers! Cannibals! I'll kill you d-d-dead!”

I lunged for it, but I was too late. The quozzel hit the tunnel wall, and instead of bouncing, it vanished into the rock like water being absorbed by a sponge, only faster. An instant later a shower of rocks fell out of the roof of the tunnel, and I heard the walls creaking ominously.

“Run!” I yelled. I started to follow my own advice but saw a large rock shifting in the wall of the tunnel just above Shiara's head. I shouted again and swung the sword at it, hoping it would be deflected like the other rocks the quozzel had tried to drop on me.

The flat of the sword hit the rock, and everything seemed to slow down suddenly. There was a lot of creaking, and the top of the tunnel started to sag, as if it were trying to fall in again but couldn't quite manage it. The sword got very heavy, and then there was an angry-sounding rumble and the whole tunnel shook. The rock that had been heading for Shiara went bouncing off the opposite wall of the tunnel, and all the creaking and rumbling stopped very abruptly.

I didn't move for several seconds at least. I didn't think the quozzel would give up this easily. Then I saw a thin trickle of dark purple stuff dripping down the wall of the tunnel where the quozzel had disappeared. I watched it for a minute or two and decided that we probably didn't have to worry about the quozzel anymore. I looked at Shiara.

“Are you all right?”

“That's a stupid question,” Shiara said. “My arm is broken!”

“I mean, you didn't get any more hurt than you were already, did you?”

“No,” she said. She looked at me. “Thanks.”

I was so surprised that I couldn't think of anything to say for at least a minute.

“Um, you're welcome,” I said finally. I realized suddenly that my sword still had some wet purple stuff on it from hitting the quozzel, and I started digging in my pocket for my handkerchief so I could wipe off the sword.

I couldn't find it. I sighed. It had probably fallen out of my pocket somewhere on the trip through the caves. I didn't really mind losing it, except that now I didn't have anything to get the purple goo off my sword with. I turned to the dwarves. “Excuse me, but do any of you—”

I stopped. The dwarves were standing in a tight group, and all seven of them were staring at the sword.

“Now, why didn't you think to mention you had that?” one of them said.

S
HIARA AND I LOOKED
at the dwarves. “He's been holding it since before you got here!” Shiara said finally. “Why should he have mentioned it?”

“It would have saved a lot of bother,” one of the female dwarves said in an aggrieved tone.

“Time, too,” said another.

“Inconsiderate, I call it.”

“Well, not inconsiderate, exactly,” said one of the male dwarves, eyeing the dragon. “A little thoughtless, maybe.”

“Thoughtless?” The dragon looked puzzled. “Why? What difference does it make if Daystar has a sword?”

“
A
sword is one thing.
That
sword is something else again.”

“Someone should have told us.”

“Someone should
definitely
have told us.”

“After all, we aren't elves.”

“Of course you're not elves,” the dragon said. “Anyone can see that! What does that have to do with Daystar's sword?”

“It's not his sword!” one of the dwarves objected. “It's the King's!”

“And elves can recognize it just by
looking
at it,” a female dwarf said in a resentful tone.

“So can some other people,” said another darkly.

“But not dwarves.”

“Unless we get a good look at it, of course. Which we couldn't, because of the light, not to mention the fact that you were standing there talking and distracting our attention.”

“Which is why you should have mentioned it,” a dwarf in the back finished triumphantly.

“I didn't mention it because there seem to be a lot of people who want it,” I said. “One of them is a wizard.”

About six of the dwarves started talking so fast it was hard to tell whether they were all speaking at the same time or whether they went one after another.

“Of course there are a lot of people who want it!”

“
Particularly
wizards.”

“It
is
the King's sword, isn't it?”

“Maybe it isn't; he hasn't said.”

“It has to be the King's sword, silly. There aren't any other swords that the earth obeys.”

“What about Delvan's blade?”

“That's not a sword, it's an ax.”

“And the earth doesn't
obey
it, it just shakes a lot.”

“So this has to be the King's sword.”

“Wait a minute!” I said. “What do you know about my sword?”

“It's the
King's
sword,” one of the dwarves said indignantly. Another dwarf shushed him, and a dwarf near the front of the crowd stepped forward and bowed.

“We follow the sword,” she said, as if it explained everything.

The other dwarves all smiled and nodded. I sighed and gave up. Either none of them really knew anything else, or they knew and weren't going to tell me, and I didn't think it mattered much which it was. “If you aren't going to tell me about my sword, could one of you do something about Shiara's arm?” I asked. “And after that, we'll be going.”

“Going where?” the dragon said.

Some of the dwarves jumped. Evidently they'd forgotten the dragon was behind them. I was surprised; if a dragon were standing behind me, I certainly wouldn't forget it was there.

“We have to find another way out of the Caves of Chance,” I told the dragon. “I don't really think we can dig through this one.”

“That will not be necessary,” said the dwarf closest to me. “Had we known you were the Bearer of the Sword, we would not have objected to your request.”

“Not at all,” said the dwarf next to him. She turned and waved at the others. “Lord Daystar requires this tunnel cleared. Begin!”

I stood and stared while the dwarves all grabbed their picks and shovels and things and started toward the rocks that were blocking the tunnel. In a few minutes they were all digging furiously—except for one, who came over to Shiara and bowed.

“I am Darlbrin,” he announced.

“That's nice,” Shiara said sarcastically. I sighed, but I didn't say anything. You can't really expect a fire-witch with a broken arm to be particularly polite.

Darlbrin didn't seem to notice. “I have some skill at mending things,” he said, and bowed again. “If you will permit it, I would like to examine your arm.” He looked at Shiara a shade anxiously and added, “To see if I can mend it.”

Shiara rolled her eyes, but she walked over to the edge of the tunnel and sat down so the dwarf could see better. Nightwitch followed, alternately purring reassuringly and meowing anxiously.

I watched for a minute or two, then turned away. I couldn't do anything to help, and I wanted to think.

I didn't get the chance. As soon as I turned, the dragon stuck its head over a couple of dwarves and said, “I didn't know you were a lord. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I'm not a lord!” I said. I think I sounded a little desperate, and I know I felt desperate. I didn't have the slightest idea what was going on, except that it had something to do with my sword.
Everything
seemed to have something to do with my sword. I was getting tired of it, and more than a little worried.

“Well, if you aren't a lord, why did they call you one?”

“Because he has the King's sword,” said a dwarf who was walking under the dragon's chin with a boulder more than half as big as he was. The dragon pulled its head back far enough to eye the dwarf, who ignored it and kept walking.

“I really wish you'd explain a little more,” I yelled after the dwarf, and then I thought of something. “Why did you call me the Bearer of the Sword?”

“I didn't call you anything,” the dwarf said without stopping. “That was Cottlestone.” He set the boulder down and headed back toward the pile of rocks, which was beginning to look smaller already.

“Excuse me,” I said loudly, in the general direction of the crowd of dwarves, “but would one of you tell me which of you is Cottlestone? I'd like to talk to him, please.”

“Cottlestone!” shouted half a dozen voices.

For a minute I thought the roof was going to cave in again, but all that actually happened was that one of the dwarves stepped out of the crowd and bowed to me. He looked as if he really meant it, not as if he were just being polite.

“Don't do that,” I said.

“As you wish,” the dwarf said, bowing again. “What do you want to know from me?”

“Why did you call me the Bearer of the Sword?”

Cottlestone looked surprised. “It's obvious. When the Bearer of the Sword holds the King's sword, the earth obeys it. So when you held up the sword and the earth obeyed, we knew you were the Bearer of the Sword.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “Have you ever heard of the Holder of the Sword? Or the Wielder of the Sword?”

“Who?”

“Never mind,” I said. “How does someone get to be the Bearer of the Sword?”

“No one knows,” Cottlestone said, looking at me curiously.

“Oh,” I said again. I was trying to think of something else to ask when there was a shout from the top of the caved-in section of the tunnel. Cottlestone bowed again. “If you will excuse me, I think they've gotten through to the other side. I ought to go help. It's my job.”