The Practice Effect Part 19

His status had declined, apparently.

There were heavy bootsteps in the hallway. Then the door was flung back. Baron Kremer stepped over the threshold.

Dennis had to blink at the brilliance of the man's clothing in the sunlight that streamed behind him. Kremer regarded Dennis silently, his dark eyes in shadow below heavy brows.

"Wizard," he said at last, "what am I going to do with you?"

Dennis sipped again-from the cup. He licked his stinging lips gingerly.

"Uh, that's a real toughie, your Lordship. Let's see, though. I think I might have an idea.

"How about this? You're going to help me and my friends, in utter sincerity and to the best of your ability, to return to our homes in good health, both mental and physical?"

Kremer's slow smile was not particularly appreciative.

"That is a thought, Wizard. On the other hand, it occurs to me that the palace torturer has been complaining that his spare tools are getting out of practice. Only the main set has had any work the past month or so. Remedying that situation seems equally appealing."

"You face a quandary," Dennis sympathized.

"It is a difficult choice." The Baron shook his head.

"I am certain you'll work something out, though."

"Are you, really? Ah! Such confidence from a wizard is inspiring.

Still, the two options do seem mutually contradictory, I was wondering if you might be able to suggest a compromise solution.

Just a hint, mind you."

Dennis nodded. "A compromise. Hmm." He scratched his stubble.

"How about something midway in between, like me doing your bidding quickly and cheerfully, giving you whatever you desire, in return for which you will keep me in a moderate level of comfort, and string me along with minor rewards and vague promises of eventual freedom and power?"

Kremer smiled. "An amazing solution! No wonder they call you a wizard."

Dennis shrugged modestly. "Oh, it was nothing, really."

The Baron cracked his knuckles. "Then it is settled. You have two more days to complete the making of your beverage 'distillery' and to teach my servants to practice it. Then you shall begin work on something of more immediate practical value, such as more of the beautiful long-range killing weapons. If, as you claim, the animals needed to drive such devices are lacking in my realm, I shall require that you come up with something else of military value.

"Is our compromise clear, then?"

Dennis nodded. He was thinking, and he had had enough of bantered wisecracks for now. They hadn't really helped all that much, anyway.

"One more thing, Wizard. Should you ever again embarra.s.s me in front of outsiders, or attempt to thwart me in any way, you will find my torturers have planned something special for you. There will be no repeat of yesterday's unfortunate demonstration. Am I understood?"

Dennis said nothing. He looked at the tall blond man in the resplendent costume, and nodded, barely.

The Baron acknowledged with a possessive smile. "You will be happy here, Dennis Nuel," he promised. "Eventually- perhaps soon, if you behave well-we will improve your quarters again. Then you and I can talk as gentlemen once more. I would be interested in learning how your people persuade their recalcitrant L'Toff to become pliant. Perhaps Princess Linnora can be a test case."

He grinned, then turned and left. The door closed, leaving Dennis alone with a single guard. For a long time there was silence; only the distant shouts of drilling troops carried up from far below.

The Earthman sat on his cot. He could almost imagine it perceptibly changing, minute by minute, into a better and better bed as he lay in it.

Logically, his options were still the same, only put off a little. In a year or two of feeding Kremer wonders he felt sure he could gain the man's trust and grat.i.tude, especially if he invented gunpowder for him, ensuring his conquest of all Coylia.

Dennis shook his head, making up his mind. He hadn't thought about it much before, but there were few worse criminals on any world than the engineer who blithely and knowingly hands over to a tyrant the tools of oppression. Come plague or ruin, he wasn't going to give Kremer gunpowder, or the wheel, or the secret of metal smelting, or anything else he could use to make war.

What options did that leave, then?

Only escape. Somehow he had to get out of here again.

9 Hot iron pincers closed upon his thumbs. A steaming stench rose where the flesh shriveled back, rolling away on black, curling ash.

Dennis moaned. He felt a wet splash against his face and he opened his eyes, breathing hard.

Arth looked down at him worriedly. "You were dreamin', Dennizz.

It must've been a bad one. Are you all right now?"

Dennis nodded. He had been taking a nap near their work area after supper. It was twilight already, out in the shadow of the castle.

"Yeah," he muttered, "I'm okay." He got up and dried his face on a towel. He still felt shaken from the dream.

"I just got back from the jailyard," Arth told him. "I said I wanted to go and personally pick the guys to run the new still."

Dennis nodded. "Did you find out anything?"

Arth shook his head. "n.o.body's seen Stivyung or Gath or Maggin or any more of my boys, so they don't seem to've been caught."

Dennis was glad. Perhaps Stivyung would eventually be reunited with his wife and son. The news helped lift his spirits a little.

"So what's the plan now?" Arth asked, too low to be overheard by the guards. "Do we try to make another balloon? Or do you have somethin' else in mind, like that saw that can break through walls?"

After the execution of his friend, Arth was no longer tempted by life within the castle walls. All he wanted was to get away from here, to see his wife again, and to hurt Baron Kremer as badly as possible. The thief looked to the Earth-man with complete confidence.

Dennis wished he could share the feeling.

As twilight fell, a squad of soldiers climbed a pedestal in the courtyard where Dennis's needler was kept during the day. When not being practiced or stored for the night, it was exposed to sunlight, always surrounded by at least six guards.

Dennis had run through a few calculations. Clearly the needler was approaching the theoretical limit of capability for that type of weapon.

No matter how efficient it became, it could only throw slivers of metal with the amount of energy it could absorb through a five-square- centimeter solar collector.

That gave Dennis one more reason to get out of here. Kremer had talked of using the needler to blast down the walls of cities. Dennis didn't want to be around when the Baron found out the deadly little weapon could be practiced only so far.

He watched the guards cautiously remove the needler from its little solarium. No. The device was guarded much too closely. He clearly wasn't going to be able to reclaim his property and blast his way to freedom. There would have to be another way.

He had considered building a wheeled cart and practicing it into an armored car. Theoretically, it should be possible. But it could take months or years, at the rate things normally improved here. It just wasn't feasible under the circ.u.mstances.

As dusk settled, the watch kites were pulled in. The Baron's glider corps had already swooped down from their training flights for the night.

Dennis thought again about those glider sheds. They were lightly guarded. It took long training to learn to fly one of the gossamer- winged things, and Baron Kremer apparently a.s.sumed he controlled the only corps of qualified pilots in the world.

He was right. Dennis had never flown even a fixed-wing glider, not to mention one of these kite things. But he had taken a few private flying lessons in single-engined prop planes. He had always intended to go back and get his license.

The two kinds of flying couldn't be that different, could they?

Anyway, he had seen lots of movies and talked to hang-glider pilots about how it was done. And he had taken courses in the physics of aerodynamics. The principles seemed simple enough.

"Have you managed to pick a way in and out of your room yet?" he asked Arth.

"Of course." The small thief sniffed. "They bolt th' door, but you can't keep a fellow like me in a room that hasn't been practiced as a jail."

"Especially with the help of a little slippery oil."

Arth shrugged. They had been careful to collect the stuff when n.o.body was looking, so they only had a little. Still, just a little bit of the perfect lubricant could go a long way.

"I can get about the cruder parts of th' castle pretty well after dark.

The hard part's the outer walls, where they've got dogs, an' sniffer beasts, an' lights and guards by the dozens. I could pilfer half the stuff in Kremer's banquet room if I knew I could get off the castle-mount with it."

"Do you think you could s.n.a.t.c.h one of those?" Dennis nodded toward the shed where they had watched the pilots carefully fold their machines earlier.

Arth looked at Dennis nervously. "Uh, I dunno. Those gliders are kinda bulky. .. ." He bit his lower lip. "Your question's just .. . uh, hypothetical." He carefully spoke the word Dennis had taught him.

"Isn' it? It doesn' have nothin' to do with your idea on how to escape from here, does it?"

"It does, Arth."

Arth shuddered. "I was afraid you'd say that. Dennizz, do you know how many men Kremer lost before they learned to handle those things? They still lose nearly half their new pilots. Can you actually fly one?"

Dennis needed Arth's help. To get it he would have to inspire faith.

"What do you think?" he asked confidently.

Arth smiled slightly, tentatively. "Yeah, sure. I guess only an idiot would try to take off in one of those things, in th' dark, without knowin' what he's doin'. I'm sorry, Dennizz."

Dennis managed not to wince visibly at his friend's way of putting it. He clasped Arth's shoulder. "Right. Now, do you think you'll be able to hide the glider until we need it? Kremer's people don't seem to understand inventory control, but they may miss it anyway."

"No problem." Arth grinned. "My room's stuffed with heaps of cloth and lumber for our 'experiments.' The servants've got orders to give us any junk we want, whatever's not sharp or made of metal. I can hide it in there easy."

"Will you want me to help in the heist?"

Arth shivered. "Uh, no, Dennizz. Some things are best left to experts. You walk like a bull rickel tha's lookin' for a female under a house. No offense, but I'll do it m'self. Don't you worry about a thing."

"All right, then." Dennis looked at the settling twilight. "Maybe you'd better retire a bit early this evening, Arth. You look pretty tired."

"Huh? But it's only. . .oh." Arth nodded. "You want me to do it tonight." He shrugged. "Ah, well, why not? That means we make th'

break tomorrow night?"

"Or the night after." Dennis was under a time limit. Kremer would not be stalled much longer.

"Okay." Arth had picked up the expression from Dennis. The little thief yawned exaggeratedly for the benefit of the guards. He spoke out loud. "Well, I think I'll work on improvin' my cot for a while!" He nudged Dennis with his elbow and winked. "See you in the mornin', boss!" Then he added under his breath, "I hope."

"Good luck," Dennis said softly as Arth walked away, followed by his guard. Dennis felt bad asking him to risk his neck like this. But the fellow knew his job and would do it cheerfully. Dennis counted himself lucky to have him as his friend.

Nearby, a small stream of pungent liquor had begun to drip from the end of the condenser. If that kept up, the crew's main job would be simply to watch and practice the distillery as a unit. The hard part was teaching them to change the wine mix properly.

Dennis found his thoughts drifting several parapets higher. Now that he was committed to trying an escape soon, he would have to settle his feelings about Princess Linnora.

If he was really serious about doing something for her, somehow during the next twenty-four hours he would have to get in touch with her, somehow regain her trust, and find a way to get her away from her guards for a rendezvous with the glider at the castle peak.

It sounded next to impossible.

He only hoped that she would give him a chance to explain if the time ever came.

The distillery crew huddled around the condenser, watching the slow drip-dripping of brandy into a flask.

Dennis caught some brandy on his fingers and shuddered as he sniffed, wishing nostalgically for the bottle of thirty-year-old Johnny Walker Swing that presumably still sat in his closet back at Sahara Tech.

He popped a few drops into his mouth and then sucked air. The stuff did have a bite to it, he had to admit.

The evening shift of practicers arrived to relieve the day crew. It was time to change the pot anyway, so he ran the Coylian prisoners through the routine several times to make sure they had it down right.

By the time they had finished, the stars were coming out. He made sure all was in order, then picked up his cloak from the railing. "I want to stretch my legs," he told his guards.

The northmen bowed slightly and followed behind. Although his privileges had been sharply reduced, he was still at least officially a quasiguest. . .and a wizard. He had freedom of the yard so long as he was accompanied.

He strolled the long way, past the glider sheds and then the main gate. As he neared the section of the castle where the L'Toff Princess had her rooms, his doubts returned. Every parapet was rimmed with sharp stakes, practiced every day by teams of soldiers armed with slabs of meat. To land a glider upon one and take off again would be as impossible as climbing those sheer walls appeared to be.

Should he take an already risky plan and reduce its chance to negligible by trying to free Linnora as well? Would that be fair to Arth?

Dennis rounded a corner and felt his pulse rise. In the light from the flickering wall cressets, he saw a slim girl dressed in white holding onto the bars three levels up. The L'Toff Princess stared into the starry night, the breeze tugging at her filmy gown. As Dennis approached, his guards keeping a steady five paces behind, he saw the girl turn. Someone else had come out onto her balcony.

Dennis bent in the shadows to tie the laces of his boots, and he looked up as casually as he could. He saw Baron Kremer come forth and confront Linnora. She looked terribly small before him.

The warlord spoke to her and she shook her head in reply. She tried to turn away, but he grabbed her arm and spoke again, more sharply.

Dennis still couldn't make out what was being said, but he could catch the tone.

Linnora struggled, but Kremer only laughed and pulled her close, holding her against his broad chest in spite of her resistance.

One of the guards behind Dennis made a rough joke. Obviously they thought their Lord was giving the haughty tribeswoman only what she had coming.

Dennis felt under his waistband. Four carefully selected smooth stones made a lump there. He hadn't had any opportunity to practice his crude weapon. It would only be as good as he had made it. All told, it was not much better a makeshift sling than the c.u.mmerbund he had used for the same purpose at that last Sahara Tech party.

Still, he could probably get one or two stones off before the guards brought him down. And Kremer was a big target.