Dragon Magic (11 page)

Then the head of the sirrush rose on its snake neck. It gave a honking cry, louder than Sherkarer had ever heard before, and its head darted back and forth as might that of a serpent preparing to strike. Then it turned away from those tormenting it by curdling the water. Since the other end of the pool was shallow it arose, standing now upon its powerful hind legs, its forepaws curled a little against its belly, its head forward.

A man came up on the steps before the Great King, and though the torchers here were but few Sherkarer saw he was Daniel. As he came the King’s hand rose in a signal, and at that moment all the clamor made by the horns, the drums, the beating of the water, was stilled, so that Daniel’s voice could be heard as it carried clearly across the courtyard.

“Oh, King, live forever! I have come to judgment with your god. As I have said, I carry no weapon—” He spread his hands wide that all men could see they were empty. “Yet shall I slay this beast even as if I thrust him through with the blade of the King’s own sword. And I shall slay him through the power of the Lord God Jehovah, who has willed me to come hither, into this place of false gods.”

There was a stir among the priests, a murmur, but again the King’s hand brought silence.

Then Daniel turned and went to the poolside. The beast was taller than two such men as it reared, awaiting him. And now even the angry swaying of its head was stilled. Sherkarer drew a deep breath, his eyes on its tail, waiting for the betraying quiver which would mean that that scaled and terrible lash would strike down this defenseless man.

Yet Daniel walked as one without fear, his hands up, palms outward.

And from his lips came words the Nubian could not understand. But he guessed that the other called upon this God of his in his own tongue. The words rolled as a chant of a priest. Upon hearing them the priests of Marduk-Bel moved as if they would rush this outlander who so profaned their temple.

Now it was the High Priest who raised his hand to quiet them.

Sherkarer tensed, for he thought he saw a quiver run along the beast’s tail.

Still it did not move and the Nubian began to believe that Daniel was weaving a spell with that chant, was holding the monster so. Then, still speaking, Daniel picked up a handful of the reed roots. These he bunched together into a ball and tossed into the air. The monster’s jaws gaped, caught that mass of vegetation, crunched it.

Sherkarer was frozen with amazement. That the creature would eat so at Daniel’s offering he could hardly believe, even though he had seen it with his own eyes.

A second time Daniel fed the sirrush with a tossed bundle of roots.

Around him no man moved or made a sign. So still was the whole company that the Nubian could hear the breathing of the men beside him.

For the third time Daniel took up a ball of food. This time Sherkarer was sure it was that which he had hidden among the roots at Daniel’s bidding. And for the third time the monster accepted the offering, crunched, and swallowed.

But this time the root ball held that poisonous offering prepared by Daniel’s people, so it was as if the lau had swallowed one of the torches. It arched backward, giving voice in deep bellows. The tail lashed and fell, lashed and fell, whipping the water again into froth, yet not reaching any enemy, for all pressed quickly away from the rim of the pool. Then, with an effort they could see, it tried to reach Daniel, who had not retreated more than a step or two. Instead it collapsed, to writhe and kick, its horned serpent head resting on the poolside. And so it died.

Then Daniel turned to face the Great King.

“Oh, King, live forever”—he gave the ceremonious salute. “Is it not as I have promised? With the aid of the Lord God Jehovah, this evil monster, which was servant to the priests of darkness, is dead. Yet I did not draw steel against it, only fed it its natural food.”

And the Great King reached forth his scepter of state so that Daniel could set his fingertips to it. There was a sigh throughout the company, and men suddenly found their voices, speaking one to the other in awe and wonder of what they had seen. But the priests gathered together in a tight knot about the throne of their chief, and their faces were flushed with anger.

Sherkarer flattened himself against the wall, trying to hide behind the courtiers. He had done this thing for Daniel, and now—what reason was there for the other to remember a Nubian captive? Let him be left to the priests and they would undoubtedly wreak upon him their hatred for this stranger who had so demeaned their god.

A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he swung about, ready to fight, if without any chance, against the man who held him so. But the low voice in his ear he had heard before, out of the drain.

“Throw this about you, walk beside me, but hurry not.” The other had one of the richly fringed shawls which the nobles used as cloaks, and he pulled it quickly about Sherkarer.

Thus, as one of the Great King’s household the Nubian left that well-guarded courtyard, the temple itself. And he followed in the train of courtiers back across the river to the western side, where stood the newly built palace, to be lost in the maze of servant quarters there.

It was a day and a night before Daniel came to him. But in his hand was a hard-baked clay tablet he gave to the Nubian.

“Take care—this bears the Great King’s seal print. Now, at the wharf is the ship of the merchant Balzar.

Also there is this—” And he took from the folds of his sash a small bag.

“This holds pieces of trade silver, enough, I hope, to get you home.”

Sherkarer weighed the bag in one hand, the King’s passport in the other, his keys to freedom. He asked a last question. “How was it that you knew the lau would eat what you offered it?”

“Did I not say I was bearing witness to the power of the Lord God Jehovah? It was by
His
will the beast ate.”

The Nubian tucked the bag of silver into the front of the plain short robe his guide had supplied.

“Your God is a mighty one, but he has also done another thing. He brought me to be your servant when I had no wish to be so. In that much will I also bear witness to His might. I wish you well, Daniel, but I am glad that I shall do it distantly. You and your God together are such as might bring down a kingdom if it be your will.”

“Not my will, but
His
,” Daniel corrected him. “And perhaps that shall also happen.”

And later, in Meroë of the south, Sherkarer heard the tale of how Babylon the mighty had been taken, wall and tower, palace and temple, by the Persians, and he wondered whether Daniel and his God had had a hand in that.

4

PENDRAGON

Has was not looking at the sirrush-lau writhing at the poolside. He saw instead the flat picture of a queer creature as it might have been drawn by men who had heard the monster described but had not seen it in all its horrible might. His hand lay so that the fingers touched the edge of the puzzle, but he saw no blue tattoo marks forming a bracelet about his wrist. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed back from the table.

Had it all been a dream? But it was far too real. Why, he had been hungry, and tired, and frightened—he could remember every detail of the adventure as if it were all true. He was Sherkarer of Meroë, not George Brown of Sedgwick Manor!

What if he had not listened to Daniel or helped in the plan to defeat the priests of Marduk-Bel? What if the sirrush-lau had died naturally and they had blamed him for it? Ras shivered. He knew he had chosen rightly, for him, and for Daniel, too. He remembered that Daniel was in the Bible, but he did not remember the dragon story.

Ras looked for the last time at the blue dragon fitted firmly together.

He did not in the least want to finish the rest of the puzzle. Somehow he could not bring himself to even touch it now.

Time! He had forgotten all about time! The clothes at the laundromat—Mom waiting for them! How long had he been here? In his dream it had been days—days! Only it could not really have been that long.

Frightened now, he ran back through the dusty rooms, the old floorboards creaking under him as he went. He pushed out of the window, letting it bang down behind him, and ran down the rutted, leaf-filled drive. Ras reached the laundromat puffing and went straight to the right machine.

“Better watch it, son.” Mr. Reese was standing there. “Your wash was done about ten minutes ago. Other people waiting to use these, you ought to stay right here.”

“Sorry,” Ras said breathlessly. He jerked out his basket, unloaded the clothes to take them to the dryers at the other end, trying to keep his mind on what he was doing,

Mr. Reese followed along behind. “No running off this time, boy. You keep your eyes on this and empty it as soon as it’s done, mind. Too many people waiting on Saturday’s to tie up machines needlessly.”

“Yes, sir,” Ras mumbled as he pushed the damp wash in as fast as he could, then hunted for the change to feed into the dryer. The laundromat was crowded, not only with ladies but with men and boys, too.

Ras caught sight of a familiar face, Sig Dortmund. Sig was leaning against the wall and he had a book in his hand, not a paperback or a comic but a real book. It was from the library, Ras thought, for it had a protective plastic jacket on. And as Sig turned a little to let by a lady with two big bags of wash, Ras saw that jacket more clearly. There was a picture of a man with long yellow hair over his shoulders in braids. He had a big hammer raised high in one hand, and in the other was a sword laid out on a narrow rest, as if he were ready to pound it with the hammer.

Sig was so intent upon his book that he did not look up as Ras edged closer.

Story of Sigurd
—Ras read the title.

Though he had not spoken the words aloud, Sig suddenly looked up as if he had heard. He looked at Ras and flushed.

“Hi.” His voice sounded as if he were not sure he ought to talk to Ras.

Then he added in a rush of words, “I went back, to let you out. I didn’t want you to have to stay down there. Only, you were gone.”

Ras nodded. “I know, I saw you go… Listen.” He moved closer so that he could ask his questions without anyone overhearing him. “You put together the silver dragon, didn’t you? Well, when you did—did anything queer happen then?”

For a moment he thought that Sig was not going to answer. The other boy looked away, at the dryer as if he must check it, then at the book he held. Ras, uneasy, was ready to move off again, when Sig spoke. “Yeah.

Something happened.”

“You—you went to Babylon—and Daniel was there?” Ras asked.

Sig stared at him in open surprise. “Babylon? Daniel? You’re crazy, man. I went with Sigurd, to help kill Fafnir—for the treasure. Sigurd killed him. But then he wouldn’t take the treasure, he said it made a man go bad. It did Mimir, and he was Sigurd’s friend before. So that must have been true.”

Now it was Ras’s turn to be bewildered. “Sigurd,” he repeated.

“But—that’s the book you’re reading.”

“I didn’t even know there was a book about it—until I saw this when we had library period yesterday. But it’s wrong in some parts: Sig Clawhand isn’t in the story at all. And he was part of it. I know because I was him—I was!” He looked at Ras as if challenging him to deny that.

“And you put the silver dragon together,” Ras said slowly. “So you had one story. I put the blue one together, and I had another story—they were not the same at all.”

“The blue one!” Sig no longer held the book open with his- finger between the pages to keep his place. He gave all his attention to Ras. “You did the blue one—and then you had an adventure. Where?” His demand was sharp and eager.

Ras hesitated. The adventure was so real, so much a part of his memory, that he almost did not want to share it. But there was the mystery of what had happened to both of them. Perhaps if they compared stories they could discover what was in the puzzle which made them see and feel—
If
Sig had seen and felt as he, Ras, had done.

“I was in a war—in Africa, I think.” He made it as simple as possible.

“And there was this big thing out of the swamps. My people called it ‘lau,’

but the priests of Babylon called it ‘sirrush.’ A merchant took it and me to Babylon. And there the temple priests made me help take care of it.”

Swiftly he outlined his adventure.

When he had finished Sig looked thoughtful. “Daniel’s in the Bible, so he was real, once. But I don’t remember hearing that dragon story before.

Listen, on Monday, why don’t you go to the library as I did, see if you can find a book about it? I know about Egypt; heck, we studied all about that—pyramids, mummies—last year. But I never heard of this Meroë’

place, or Nap—Napata”—he stumbled over the strange name. “But if you could find it written down, it might prove it
was
all true. There’s a part in this book, at the front”—Sig turned the pages hurriedly—”where it says that maybe there was a real Sigurd. Only, after he was dead people added a lot of extra things to the story, because he was a hero they liked to talk about. So now he’s more like a made-up person. Only, he wasn’t! I know!”

Sig’s chin was up. He looked at Ras as if he dared him to question that.

“Daniel was real and so was Sherkarer. Even if I can’t find him in any book,” Ras said. “But I’m going to look—”

This your wash, boy?” A lady with a scarf tied over bumps of curlers pushed up to Sig.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sig shoved his book under his belt and hurried to empty the dryer, while the lady gave impatient little snorts to urge him along.

Ras went to check on his machine, not wanting Mr. Reese to speak to him again. As he left, Sig looked up.

“See you—”

“Sure,” Ras returned.

There were still ten minutes to go on the dryer. He saw Sig bag his wash and go out. But before he left he looked at Ras and gave a little salute with his hand. Ras stirred from one foot to another impatiently.

Sig had found a book written about his adventure. Was there one about Ras’s, too? When he got home he would write down all the names he could remember. And he would get the Bible and read the part about Daniel.