Dragon Business, The (14 page)

D
UKE KERRL AND
King Norrimun agreed that Sir Dalbry should lead the hunt for the dragon, since he was the only one with experience. Cullin couldn’t understand why Kerrl was so eager to accompany them, or why he had pressured the obviously ineffective and corpulent king to go along. It was going to cause problems.

Sir Dalbry sat tall on Drizzle, imagining himself on a proud white stallion rather than one with unsightly speckles. Cullin rode his even-less-inspiringly named pony, Pony. They followed the road into the sinister forest, and Dalbry dismounted to look in the underbrush. Putting on a show, he lifted his nose to sniff the air and peered into the trees. “I believe the dragon went that way.”

The duke frowned. “I don’t see anything. How can you tell?”

“Dragons leave a subtle but unmistakable mark of their passage. I can show you, if you’d like to join me?”

King Norrimun was exhausted and uncomfortable from just sitting in a saddle. “I’ll take your word for it, Sir Dalbry.” Back at the castle, it had taken several men and a small crane designed for loading sacks of grain to lift the corpulent king onto his horse.

When they camped at night, Cullin wondered how they would ever get him off his horse, let alone back on again. He swung down from his pony. Since he was unpracticed in dismounting, he landed on the ground with less grace than he had intended. Cullin knelt beside the knight as he stirred the shrubbery.

Dalbry spoke in a loud voice for the benefit of the others, “As you can see, Squire Cullin, the leaves of this bush have curled inward in a natural reaction to the fumes a dragon exhales. You’ve seen a dragon’s fiery breath, but few people realize that dragons have just as deadly an exhaust from the other end. Come, let’s venture into the forest so we can better determine the monster’s direction.”

They slipped into the underbrush, and Dalbry whispered to him, “While I keep leading them westward, back and forth, I’ll send you off to hunt game for dinner. King Norrimun will insist on it.”

Cullin understood. He knew Dalbry would stretch out the wild-goose chase for at least a day or two. “Good plan. Meanwhile, I’ll track down Reeger and tell him what’s going on. He needs to know this isn’t a typical scam. I’ll find out where we should guide the king and the duke. He’s bound to have prepared a dragon lair by now.”

Cullin arranged a meeting point, then went off hunting on foot, while the others led Pony on a guide rope. The young man had his dagger and practice sword, but for hunting he was better off throwing rocks. He expected he could gather up a brace of quail or a fluff of squirrels without too much effort. First, though, he had to find Reeger’s camp, which took more than two hours of wandering through the forest.

Cullin tried to sneak in and surprise his friend, but the mule brayed as soon as he came close. Reeger was roasting a badger on a spit over a campfire. Cullin’s mouth watered, since roasting badger with onions and sage had a distinctive smell. “Crotchrust, Cullin! You took your sweet time. Where’s Dalbry? I found the most beautiful dragon’s lair, best one we’ve ever used. There’s something special about that cave. It’ll be like the cherry on top of a plum pudding.”

Cullin had never had a cherry on top of a plum pudding before.

“There’s been a complication, thanks to Princess Affonyl.” He couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice as he described how the beautiful princess had pulled off her scam.

“Sounds like an impressive young lady,” Reeger said, “except she mucked up our plans.”

Cullin hunkered down near the fire. “I prefer to see it as an opportunity, since her setup in the tower room makes our story all the more convincing. After we show your dragon’s lair to the king and the duke, Dalbry just needs a little privacy so he can ‘slay’ the monster. We’ll deliver one of our stuffed crocodile heads, and Nightingale Bob will have to add another verse to his song about brave Sir Dalbry.”

Once he had all the information he needed, the young man was anxious to get back to Sir Dalbry and the others, since he still had to hunt their dinner. He was not anxious, though, to be there when they attempted to haul the corpulent king from his mount. Norrimun would be sore and stiff with his feet back on the ground again, and his horse would certainly be relieved.

Reeger didn’t want him to go so quickly, though. “Rust, lad! Stay awhile. I’ve got a nice roasted badger, and I can’t eat it all myself.”

He realized that Reeger was just lonely. During a scam like this, Cullin and Dalbry got to spend time at court talking with lords and ladies, while Reeger was stuck by himself out in the forest, working. “Well, it does smell good. And I suppose the longer I stay away, the more they’ll worry that a dragon got me.”

So they split the badger, licked their fingers, and sat relaxed and satisfied for a while. Reeger adjusted his seat. “Before you go find Dalbry, you and I have some work to do.”

“As long as it isn’t excavating skeletons from graveyards.”

Reeger made a rude sound. “Already distributed those. You can help me replenish our supply in the next kingdom, but right now, I’ve got something fresher.”

Cullin didn’t like the sound of that.

Reeger stretched and cracked his back. “I found a dead body, and I know just what to do with it.”

Reeger had discovered a hanged man at a forest crossroads and was very excited by the condition of it, while Cullin thought the corpse’s condition left much to be desired. Even in the deepening dusk, he could see that crows had pecked out the man’s eyes and shredded his face; other vermin had snacked on his fingers and his neck. The corpse’s clothes were in tatters, and his feet were bare. A legal certificate tacked onto the hanging tree identified the executed man as a proven thief and rapist.

Reeger gestured upward with the torch he carried. “Go on, lad—climb up there and cut him down.”

Cullin grimaced. “He’s awfully ripe. Why should I have to do the disgusting work?”

Reeger tilted his head. “You want to keep score, disgusting for disgusting? Is that really a game you want to play?” Cullin decided not. “Besides, you’re more nimble than I am.”

So, the young man clambered up, grabbing branches and footholds until he could crawl out onto the limb where the noose was tied. He sawed the rope with his pocket dagger. Reeger stood under the corpse and held out his arms to catch the hanged man, but the rotting body broke into several pieces in his arms, dripping putrescence as it fell.

Reeger spluttered, dumped the body parts on the ground, and wiped his face. “You still sure you got the disgusting part of the job, lad?”

“You win, as usual.” Cullin climbed back down the tree.

“For what I have in mind, a body’s more effective if it’s got some meat on the bones,” Reeger said. “I found just the right spot for the scene, and I’m ready to make my dragon tracks.”

They hauled the hanged man’s remnants to the chosen location; Cullin bore the heavier parts, but Reeger carried the juicier ones, so Cullin didn’t complain.

They set up a fake camp and concocted their story, deciding that this poor man must have been a wandering tinker who enjoyed the natural beauty of Norrimun’s kingdom. “Alas, his vacation was cut short when a dragon attacked his camp and ate most of him,” said Reeger. He set fire to the deadwood around the camp and put kindling close to the body so it would be properly blackened and roasted.

With an indulgent smile, he let Cullin don the wooden footprints this time, and the young man stomped around the smoldering scene, smashing twigs, leaving clear three-toed imprints in the black ash. When they were done, Reeger inspected the “massacre site,” satisfied. Cullin agreed it was convincing.

“Now, lead the duke and king here to show them the evidence of another dragon attack. After you’ve got them worked up, your next stop will be the dragon’s lair, a cave the locals call Old Snort. You’re going to love it.”

W
HEN CULLIN STUMBLED
into the clearing at dawn, he felt as exhausted and bedraggled as he intended to look.

Sir Dalbry rose to his feet, delighted and relieved. “Squire Cullin, you’re safe! We were so worried when you never returned from hunting our dinner.”

Norrimun scowled. “We had to eat pack food. All of our supplies are gone.”

Cullin was surprised. “We packed enough for a week.”

“Gone!” the king cried.

Dalbry made a show of embracing the young man, which gave him an opportunity to whisper, “Did you find Reeger?”

“Yes, and I helped him prepare something special, like a cherry on a plum pudding.”

Dalbry frowned. “Who puts cherries on plum pudding?”

“Did you bring breakfast?” asked King Norrimun. The fat ruler was glad to see that Cullin carried a skinned woodchuck and a game hen, then disappointed to realize that he had neither his kitchen staff nor kitchen equipment on their quest.

“We decided you must have been eaten by the dragon,” Duke Kerrl said. “These woods are dangerous.”

Cullin hadn’t rested at all, and he’d gotten no sleep the night before either. Now, his unkempt appearance only heightened the effect of his story. “I was lost, and then stalked—I’m sure it was the dragon. Then, just when I thought I was safe, I found another victim.”

“Dead?” King Norrimun asked.

“Yes, a dead victim! I can take you there. It might give us clues about how to find the dragon.”

“We set out at once,” the king announced. “Immediately after breakfast.”

As the lowest-ranking person in camp, it was Cullin’s job to prepare the woodchuck and game hen. The king was disappointed in the quality of the food, although Cullin did his best.

After breakfast, he wanted nothing more than a nap, but Sir Dalbry called for his horse Drizzle, and the squire had to saddle it for him. Meanwhile, King Norrimun’s horse cringed at the ordeal it would have to endure for yet another day.

Oddly, Duke Kerrl seemed more enthusiastic than before. “I look forward to a productive day of dragon hunting.” He smiled at Norrimun and added, “
Dad
.”

The king seemed startled by the reminder about who would be heir to the dukingdom. Since Duke Kerrl had what he wanted, Cullin doubted the man had any interest in finding the princess alive. Affonyl certainly didn’t want to be found.

The group did not set out until late morning, much to Sir Dalbry’s frustration, but Cullin, overburdened by performing duties for three men plus tending Pony, took all the time he needed. “You can’t rush a good dragon hunt.”

He led them toward the site of the dragon attack he had “stumbled upon” the previous night, but the forest looked much different in the daylight, and he had to backtrack. Cullin finally found the location by the stench of burned wood and roasted flesh. Dalbry moved along with his gaze to the ground, studying the evidence and deconstructing the crime. He inspected the blackened bones and charred skull of the hanged man’s body, while the frightened king hung back.

Duke Kerrl sniffed around curiously. “It’s not Affonyl, is it? Doesn’t look much like her.”

“No, Majesty,” Cullin said. “This was a wandering tinker who enjoyed the natural beauty of your kingdom. Alas, his vacation was cut short when a dragon attacked his camp and ate him.”

Dalbry responded with a grave nod. “This dragon has proved its appetite for human flesh. It destroyed part of your castle, took the lovely princess, and murdered this poor tinker.”

Kerrl held up the blackened skull, then dropped it to the ground. “I am very impressed. Others would have shivered beneath their blankets, like Sir Phineal, but you, Dad, are brave enough to face the danger in person. Even though the risk is greater to you than to anyone else here, you still do your duty. What a king!”

Cullin asked, “Excuse me, aren’t we all in danger? Why is the risk to King Norrimun greater than to the rest of us?”

The duke gave a flippant wave of his hand. “Think about it. Who would make the heartiest meal for a hungry dragon?”

Neither Cullin nor Sir Dalbry could argue with the logic.

King Norrimun was distraught that he hadn’t thought of it himself. “Maybe I should just go back to the castle now and leave the hard work to you. I can be back in time for lunch. It will be all the same to Princess Affonyl, if you do manage to find her. A princess is a princess, and she knows her duties.”

Dalbry quickly said, “Agreed, Majesty. Squire Cullin and I can finish the job. We will report to you if you and the duke wish to return to the safety of the castle.”

“Nonsense,” Kerrl interjected. “A king is a king, too, and your obligation is to go on honorable quests, like this one, despite the tremendous hardships.”

The corpulent king was not pleased by this, but he did seem to know his responsibilities.

“We may be done with this soon enough, Majesty.” Sir Dalbry pointed out the three-toed dragon footprints, garnering clues from bent twigs in addition to the whispered instructions Cullin gave him on how to find the cave of Old Snort.

Sir Dalbry took the lead, guiding them in the general direction of the cave. Cullin tried to think of a way to separate Dalbry from his unwanted companions, so they could complete their plan, and return with a dubious trophy. Once they claimed to have slain the dragon, they would collect their small honorarium. 
The duke remained close to King Norrimun throughout the day—too close. Cullin struggled to figure out what he was up to. Kerrl had already forced Norrimun to sign over the kingdom to the duke. Maybe he planned to arrange for an expedited inheritance?

And terrified King Norrimun now needed protection more than he needed dragon slayers. He refused to be far from Sir Dalbry, and Duke Kerrl refused to go far from the king. It was an awkward situation all around.

Throughout the day, Cullin glimpsed the shadowy figure of Reeger following them, keeping tabs. When they camped that night, Cullin was glad for a chance to sleep at last . . . but just as the young man drifted off, a horrific roar shattered the stillness—a guttural, reptilian bellow that sounded suspiciously Reeger-like.

Then a tree crashed down in the darkness near the camp: a rotted old trunk that Reeger had no doubt pushed over.

King Norrimun was so alarmed that he demanded the party pack up camp and leave to find a safer spot—which they did.

They moved three more times throughout the night, and Reeger kept making loud dragon roars and knocking down nearby trees. It was a very effective and convincing scare tactic, but Cullin didn’t appreciate it one bit.

When they finally bedded down for what Cullin hoped would be the last time that evening—Reeger had made his point!—the king was so skittish that he commanded Squire Cullin to remain awake and stand watch until dawn.