Dragon - The Dragon And The Djinn Part 12

Looking at Sir Mortimor now, particularly with eyes remarkably clear since he had made his hard decision, Jim thought he saw in the man a clear case of the fever of addictive gambling, such as he had suspected from time to time in the case of Brian. However baffled Sir Mortimor might be that his tricks with the dice were not working. Sir Mortimor had clearly set that problem aside now, and was thinking of only one thing- dicing until he won.

The pressure at the table seemed to have gone up a hundredfold; and the tension between the two men was such that Jim had the feeling that if he put out his hand he would feel it stretched between them like a tightwire.

There were emotions at work here that could explode into violence all too easily. But in spite of that, Jim had made up his mind. He shifted the winning once more back into Brian's hands.

The pile of gold in front of Sir Mortimor continued to melt, with small reversals now and then; and gradually, as it dwindled, his jaw tightened, his face darkened and his tall body settled into a crouch like that of a leopard about to pounce. All resemblance to the scholarly, elderly man Jim thought he had seen at first glance was lost and he was pure warrior.

But now Beaupre was at Sir Mortimor's elbow again.

Sir Mortimor ignored him.

"M'lord," said Beaupre, at last.

"Go!" said Sir Mortimor, without looking up from the table.

"M'lord," said Beaupre, "the carpenter and one other man I sent out have come back. The Moroccans are building somewhat in front of our door that goes level back some little distance; but is supported on the hillside some ways down. They have made remarkable progress with it in the darkness; and it may be finished before first light."

"What of it?" muttered Sir Mortimor, watching the dice rattle from Brian's fist. "As soon as there's light we will burn it."

"They have covered the wood they build with goat hides. So many it is thought they must have carried some here in their ship as they came. With that protection, what they build will not burn easily."

"I told you to leave," growled Sir Mortimor.

"M'lord," said Beaupre, "something must be done."

"See to it then, Beaupre" said Sir Mortimor.

"M'lord-"

"See to it, Beaupre'!"

There was a moment's pause.

"Yes, m'lord," said Beaupre, turning away. He went down the stairs out of sight. The game went on with hardly a word from either of the players. Only the sound of their breathing could be heard, the rattle of the dice and the sc.r.a.pe of the money being pushed out as a wager, or raked in as winnings. Jim found his eyelids beginning to feel heavy. It seemed they had been at this for hours now; and he gave in a little to the temptation to let Brian's winning stretches be longer ones, and Sir Mortimor's shorter.

Sir Mortimor's face grew darker still as his supply of money dwindled; darker and more dangerous-looking. As the dice went over to Brian for yet another time, he had reached a point where Jim found his tendency toward sleepiness suddenly evaporating. Sir Mortimor was watching each movement of the dice like a wild animal about to pounce, and the tension at the table had grown to the point where the very air about them seemed to quiver with it.

Jim looked from Sir Mortimor to Brian. His friend may have been innocent in some ways, but he was not lacking perception when danger was in the air. Brian's face also was showing a change. It was not in him to show the kind of dark threat that Sir Mortimor was showing; but in his own way he was displaying a matching readiness to violence. His face seemed to have sharpened, the skin drawn tighter over cheek bones and jaw; his blue eyes appeared smaller and sharper, and their gaze was unwavering on the man sitting opposite him and on the dice.

A sudden temptation seized Jim to have Brian lose and let the dice move back to Sir Mortimor before an explosion could occur, but he hated to make Brian's winning stretch so short, when indeed he had given Sir Mortimor quite a stretch of wins; and the plan should have been at this point for Brian to match that with an even greater amount of wins.

As a result, he let Brian go on winning. The gold moved from Sir Mortimor's side of the table to Brian's.

At last, Jim let the dice go over to Sir Mortimor, on a loss from Brian. The tall knight s.n.a.t.c.hed them up and stared at them closely.

"Why, these dice are cracked!" he said, jerking to his feet. "It were a shame on me that I offered such dice to a guest to play with. I will be back in a moment with another pair."

He turned on his heel and in a second he had reached the staircase and disappeared down it. Brian stared at the empty opening through which the other had disappeared.

"That was not done as a gentleman should," said Brian in a quiet but steely voice, staring at the opening around the staircase where Sir Mortimor had disappeared. "I would be in my rights if I should say that in taking away the dice he took away my luck. But though he may lack manners, I do not. Nonetheless, I will remember this."

"Brian-" began Jim.

Brian turned and looked at him, with the same implacable gaze with which he had been staring after the missing Sir Mortimor. Then his face relaxed.

"Do not concern yourself, James," he said. "If necessary, I will tell our host that I do not care to play any longer; and since I have not even yet won back all I have lost to him over the last week or so-though I am close to that amount, indeed-he can hardly object-"

He broke off at the sound of feet on the staircase, and Sir Mortimor was back with them.

He dropped into his seat and spilled from his hand a clean, white pair of dice on the table.

"These are new, and I warrant them sound," he said carelessly. He gathered them into his long hand again, shook them in his usual fashion and spilled them on the table. Jim made sure that he won.

Sir Mortimor smiled. He threw again and matched his point, taking in the wager that Brian had already pushed forward. The dice were still with him, and he threw again for three more bouts, winning.

His smile came back.

"Strange that I did not notice that crack before," he said. "A gentleman should be able to be aware of such things-"

He broke off abruptly, because Jim had just arranged for him to lose again. He stared at the two dice on the table and their uppermost surfaces as if he could not believe his eyes.

Brian reached for the dice.

"Hold-" said Sir Mortimor-and Brian's hand stopped before it touched them. Brian's eyes slowly lifted from the dice until they looked directly into the eyes of Sir Mortimor, and a wild bell of alarm sounded in Jim's mind. All he could think of at the moment was that neither man was wearing a sword. But they both had their poignards at their belts, since no one walked around without at least one edged weapon.

"I smell smoke!" cried Jim hastily-it had been the first thing he could think of, since Sir Mortimor with that one word had already crossed the border of acceptable politeness; but now that the words were out of his mouth it came to him that indeed he did smell smoke. He had been smelling smoke for some little time, and paying no conscious attention to it, as obviously neither had the other two men.

A smell of smoke where there should be none, in a castle, meant fire; and fire was something universally feared by those who lived within such stone walls.

These same thick barriers that enclosed them and protected them could make it almost impossible to come close to and successfully put out a fire once it was started inside the castle structure; so that, unstopped, it crept from room to room, while smoke was building up from it, and herding those in the castle that were alive farther and farther back from the flames they needed to come to grips with.

In the end it became an unstoppable enemy. The only escape from it was to leave the castle; and to leave this castle right now meant only one end for those within it.

Both other men lifted their heads and sniffed the air, and the sudden change in their faces signaled their recognition of the danger.

"Forgive me. Sir Brian," said Sir Mortimor swiftly, seizing on the opportunity for the one excuse that could take any possible danger out of the word he had just uttered. "I had indeed just smelled the smoke myself. Beaupre!"

Beaupre appeared even as the word rang on the air. Clearly he had already been on his way to them.

"M'lord," he said to Sir Mortimor, "they have built their shelter right against the outer door, and in their shelter, had burning coals against the bottom of it for some time now, without our realizing. The lower part of the door is almost eaten through by fire. The carpenter believes that they have made a flat platform on which men can also swing a battering ram. They are just beginning to hammer now."

"Five more men here! Ho!" Sir Mortimor ordered the empty air.

It struck Jim, rather ridiculously, that Sir Mortimor was the equivalent of his own PA system. All he had to do was speak with a raised voice and anyone in the castle would hear and obey. He had not specified where "here" was. It was obviously up to the five men he wanted to know where Sir Mortimor was calling from.

A second thought suggested to Jim's mind that there was no real trick in that, either. He had no doubt that when he and Angie were at home in Malencontri, every servant then in the castle would know where either of them was at any moment. It was part of their business to know; and the word of any shift of either their Lord or Lady from one place to another was transferred immediately throughout all the body of those who worked in the castle, as if by telepathy.

The five men appeared, one of them carrying a bow and with a quiver of arrows slung at his belt.

"You," said Sir Mortimor, pointing at the bowman, "to the roof. Have them empty the oil that's in the kettle up there and fill it instead with water. Get men to help you and slide it forward on its rails so that it will pour out over the walls down before the door. Keep the oil that's taken out in buckets handy to be put back in, however. Go!"

The bowman ran off and up the stairway.

"You other four and Beaupre gather everyone in the castle who can fight. Join me in the large room behind the inner entrance door on the first floor. These gentlemen and I will be down as soon as possible.

Beau-pre, I must be fully armed, and these gentlemen will need help arming too. See to it!"

"By your leave, sir," said Brian coldly. "Sir James and I can armor each other."

"Good," said Sir Mortimor with no hesitation. "I will meet you down on the ground floor there."

He strode off to the stairs and disappeared down them, followed by Beaupre and the remaining four men. Jim and Brian went after them.

"I think that smoke is coming in through the arrow slits and windows," remarked Jim, as he and Brian were helping each other to buckle on armor and fasten sword belts.

"Most like," grunted Brian. He paused and looked Jim frankly in the face. "I own I am happy at the prospect of action. It was becoming other than pleasant, there at the table."

"You've got the money you've won back?" Jim asked.

"As much as I won tonight," said Brian. "I am still lacking somewhat of what Sir Mortimor won originally; but he is welcome to it. I would rather not dice with him again."

"But you'll fight alongside him," said Jim, as they began to leave the room.

"I have eaten his food and drunk his wine. What else can I do?" said Brian. "Also"-he added, looking over his shoulder at Jim-"if those outside get in, we all die. We fight for our own lives, you and I. That Sir Mortimor does the same thing beside us is of less import."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

However, as Brian said these words, he did not look to Jim as if he was facing a fight for his life. The expression on his face was more the happy excitement of someone going to a picnic.

It was characteristic of Brian to look like this before any action. Jim had seen it before; and curiously, in this strange place, under these strange conditions, it made him feel better. They finished helping each other put on their armor and weapons and left their room to go down to the ground floor.

Jim had not paid close attention to the ground floor when he entered the castle, since his escorts had hurried him up the stairs to Sir Mortimor and Brian. Now he saw that it was mostly taken up with a large open s.p.a.ce, one end of which had been divided with wooden part.i.tions some five feet high, as stalls for horses, so that these could be brought inside if necessary; though Jim found it hard to imagine what kind of horse could climb the switchback road up to the steps leading to the castle's front door-let alone up the steps itself.

Right now, however, these stalls were filled with villagers. All the rest of the s.p.a.ce was taken up by what looked like a hundred or more armed men, packed as tightly as sardines; and all, to Jim, looking rather pale, caught between the ominous figure of their Lord, towering over them, and the ominous knowledge of the enemy outside who was burning a route into the castle.

"Sir James! Sir Brian!" roared Sir Mortimor, as he saw Brian and Jim coming down the stairway. He broke off what he had been saying, pushed his way to the stairs and took three double-step strides up to meet them before they reached the floor.

"It is good to see you two gentlemen!" said Sir Mortimor, his voice ringing off the walls. "Particularly at this moment when the enemy is becoming troublesome. There could be no two chevaliers I would rather have with me at this moment than the famous Dragon Knight, victor over ogres and evil men alike, and Sir Brian, well known as the best lance in England!"

The statement was obviously for public consumption; and it was not without effect. Jim saw some of the paleness begin to disappear from the up-staring faces below them, and less of an atmosphere of panic seemed to pervade the area.

"A word with you gentlemen privily, first," barked Sir Mortimor, pushing past them and beckoning them to follow him back up to the floor above. Once out of the sight and hearing of those beneath them, he lowered his voice to a murmur that could not possibly be heard below.

"You are a G.o.dsend at this time, sirs," he said in that low voice. His face and manner had completely changed. It was as if the dice game had never been and money was of no importance. In fact, though Jim found it hard to believe, there was something of the same happy excitement about Sir Mortimor that Jim had just seen, and was used to seeing, in Brian.

"Here is the situation," went on Sir Mortimor. "My men are good fighters-none better-but like all such common cattle, an unfamiliar situation takes the heart out of them. They become little more than sheep.

They know how much those outside outnumber us; and now this business of burning through the outer door has made them feel helpless-with no hope but to wait to be slaughtered when the enemy finally breaks in. But they will rouse themselves and do what needs to be done-and indeed there is a great deal more that can be done and no certainty that this castle will be taken after all. But first, let me ask you again, Sir James. Would you be willing, for any way at all by which I may recompense you, to use your magic to help in the defense here?"

"As I said, I'm afraid not," said Jim. "I regret having to continue to answer you that way, Sir Mortimor; but I've got duties and obligations."

"I fully understand. Sir James," said Sir Mortimor. "In fact, I had not really hoped for that help from you.

The aid you give simply by fighting with us is all but magic in itself. No doubt you felt the difference down below, the minute I announced my pleasure in your presence. They already knew who you were, of course, but I think they had not fully realized what paladins you are; and knowing that has enheartened them greatly."

"We will hope to live up to your expectations, sir," said Brian.

"I had no doubt you would in any case, sir," said Sir Mortimor. "Now, as to the situation. Let me give it to you in as few words as possible. Beaupre has privily a.s.sured me that they have made a roof over the fire they have built against my door, so although we will be pouring water from the roof even now, there is little chance the fire can be dealt with that way. Also, this roof is covered with fresh animal hides, which would resist even burning oil-though it would be hardly sensible to pour oil of any heat upon already burning fuel."

"This," Brian said, "we have heard Beaupre tell you."

"Yes," said Sir Mortimor. "The fire must be gotten rid of, however; and it is my intent to make a rush from the inside, by weight of men and bodies, unbarring the burning door and attempting to push it open.

It may be the attackers have gone to some trouble to make sure that it cannot be pushed open; but if it can, that very opening will sweep the fire aside. So men can rush out and hold any attack at bay while some inside douse the fire with water; after which we retreat once more within the castle. The door is weakened, true. But if the fire were out, and no easy opportunity to light it again for an hour or so, it could be greatly strengthened from inside by our carpenter using wood that is already in the castle here in the shape of doors and furniture. This is my plan and I intend to use it; but I would welcome any advice from either of you."

He paused. Jim could think of nothing to say, but Brian spoke again.

"I have offered to lead a sally through your private escape way," he said. "May I offer to do it, once again. It seems to me that the best way of dealing with this structure outside, let alone the fire at the door, is to attack whoever is out there unexpectedly from outside, and not only free the burning matter from the door itself, but put to flame all the rest of what they have built, with fire from the inside. A relatively small force of men, moving fast, could do that, sir, and I would be honored to lead them!"

Sir Mortimor looked at him and slowly shook his head.

"We are not in that desperate a pa.s.s yet, Sir Brian," he said. "You must know as well as I do, that such ways as you speak about are the secrets of the lord of the castle only; and not to be easily shared with others. If need be, I will share it with men of honor like yourselves; but any others who go out with you must die before they come back in, to ensure that they do not pa.s.s on to others word of this way out of the castle."

Jim winced internally, but Brian seemed to take this in stride. Sir Mortimor went on.

"Once it were known," he said, lowering his voice still more, "there are many here-and not just the villagers-who would want to escape immediately, hoping to get away and hide themselves in the hills.

Therefore, as I say, any you took with you must die. I do not know how you would encompa.s.s that; and even if you did, it would further reduce the force I have here to resist those who come against us."

"I see no other way," said Brian coldly. "My offer remains open, sir. You may take it up at any time in the future, if the situation here has not changed so as to make it impractical from my standpoint"

"I will keep it in mind," said Sir Mortimor, equally coldly; and for a moment they were back as they had been at the dice table. Then, to Jim's relief, the hardness of both their expressions cleared.

"It remains then," said Sir Mortimor, "to attempt what I had in mind, forcing the burning door from the inside. We will proceed with that."

"If you wish, then," said Brian, "I will be glad to lead the charge on the door."

Sir Mortimor grinned at him. A grim and martial grin.

"Right willingly would I see you do so," he said, "and give you most hearty thanks. But my fellows fight best when they are under my eye and within arm's reach. No one but I can lead the charge on the door.

What I would wish of you and Sir James is that you take charge of what I shall call the afterguard, those who stay behind while the rest of us charge."