The Runaway Dragon (22 page)

“You!” Malison cried.

“Me,” said Meg. “And you’d better not have hurt Lex.”

So exhausted from her duel she was practically swaying on her feet, Malison nevertheless managed to give Meg the benefit of her favorite wicked smile. “I could destroy you with only half a spell. Where’s my dragon?”

“My
dragon is in the hall, taking care of a few problems for me,” Meg said coolly. She stepped into the room and moved quickly to stand beside Lex, who was sprawled near Malison’s desk. Meg glanced down at her friend to make sure he was still breathing. She was madly relieved to see that he was. And here was her scarf, which had found Lex, just as she had asked it to. The scarf flew back to its usual place around Meg’s neck and crouched there, blinking balefully at the sorceress.

“Next I suppose you’ll tell me that’s your cloth-creature,” Malison said.

“As a matter of fact, it is.” Meg’s heart pounded, but she wasn’t about to let Malison know that. She noticed that Malison’s shoulder and part of her hair were pink. Did this girl actually outwizard Lex? No. “You must have cheated. You could never really have stopped Lex with magic.”

Malison turned so red that Meg knew she was right. “I did not!” Malison said in exactly the tone someone would use if they had cheated. Behind her, Bain looked away politely, setting a bookend shaped like a bogwort down on the worktable.

“You hit him, didn’t you?” Meg asked Bain.

Bain mumbled a non-reply.

“Come on, scarf,” Meg whispered. The scarf made a brief sally toward Malison, but Malison spat a spell at it and the scarf fled, whimpering, beneath the worktable. Meg could only hope it wasn’t hurt too badly.

“See what happens when you get in my way?” Malison demanded, seething. “I’ll have to think of something more personal for you this time. Maybe you’d like to join the lizards under my throne. No, that’s too easy, too
kind.”
She sounded as if she were talking to herself now. “A merciful death is no good. Suffering is needed.”

“Why?” Meg said. “I never did anything to you. But look what you’ve done to all these people!”

“It is my right and my nature,” Malison informed her grandly.

“Excuses, excuses.”

Malison drew herself up. “No more talk. I’m deciding your fate, you stupid girl.”

“Again?” Meg thought fast. “Well,
I
have a spell from the enchanted forest. So it’s your turn to tremble in fear, Mally.”

“Mally?”
the sorceress repeated in horror.

Meg pulled the shard of rose-painted china out of her pocket, wishing she had remembered it earlier, in the throne room. “Let everyone in this place go free—even him,” she said, nodding in Bain’s direction, “and I will spare you my wrath.”

“Wrath? Puh-lease,” Malison said. “Go ahead, serve me tea with that thing.”

Meg waved the china around, wondering exactly how the spell was supposed to work. Finally she threw it at Malison’s feet, where it shattered into several pieces. Malison laughed so hard she almost fell over.

The broken pieces of china quivered. There was a
poof
, and then the pieces were blank and white, as if they had never been painted. Meg looked up at Malison, who was now wearing a crown of red roses, real ones. Meg could even smell their perfume. “It’s pretty,” Meg said in bleak tones as Malison reached up to pull a rose out of her hair.

Malison tore the flower into little shreds. “Now then,” she said briskly. “You were threatening me?”

Meg spared a harsh thought for Quorlock, although what she really wanted to do was slap Malison. She did have a sword, but swords weren’t much good against sorceresses. Meg looked around for something magical to throw and noticed some knickknacks on the desk, in between the stacks of parchment. “What about this?” she said gamely, picking up a stone carved in the shape of an eyeball and hoping very much it was enchanted. “I think I’ll threaten you with this eye-rock.”

Malison stopped laughing. “Put that down. You could hurt yourself.”

Meg selected another object with her free hand. It was only a wooden box, but it seemed to cling to her hand, and a dank whisper sounded in her head. “What about this one?”

“A priceless antique. Don’t touch those artifacts, or you’ll find yourself in worse trouble than even I could dream up for you.”

Bain had been edging toward the door. “Excuse me, mistress. May I join the battle outside?”

“Go!” Malison snapped. She didn’t need his help to deal with a mere princess.

Bain slipped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Meg hefted the artifacts in her hands. She didn’t have much choice at this point. While Malison was still looking away, Meg threw one artifact, then another. Malison yelped and managed to catch one in each hand, but before she could put them down somewhere safe, Meg threw a third artifact, and a fourth. The third one bounced off Malison before it let out a series of chiming notes and clattered across the floor. The fourth began leaking crimson smoke—but Meg was already flinging a fifth and a sixth at Malison, who cried, “Stop that!”

The fifth one released a swarm of bronze bees that immediately tried to sting the sorceress. Malison fought them off with a magic shield and then sent them away with a staccato wave of little pinging noises. Part of her hair had fallen out of its perfect arrangement atop her head, however, which pleased Meg inordinately. “Nyah, nyah!” Meg said, sticking out her tongue most undiplomatically and throwing two more artifacts.

Then she ran out of enchanted objects to throw, and Malison was still standing there. Well, her beautifully arched eyebrows had disappeared, but she looked perfectly
capable of spell casting and more than insanely furious. Meg gulped. “Right, maybe a duel?”

“With
magic?”
Malison jeered.

Meg eyed the clunky sword she had dropped beside the desk and couldn’t help picturing Malison turning her into a statue. “Of course.” Magic, her worst subject. She sorted frantically through the spells in her head. She was probably the worst wizard in the land. The best wizard was unconscious, lying at her feet, and the second best was standing there in front of her, on the verge of magically torturing Meg till she died a miserable, bloody, or possibly transformed death.

“Keep it simple,” she told herself. This was for Lex. And her parents. And the servant women. And even the guards.

But her mind had run out of spells to sort, and besides, everyone knew Meg’s magic never worked the way it was supposed to. No wonder they had been so worried about her, she thought, flushing. She wouldn’t have minded a little help from Gorba, or Dilly, or even Lieutenant Staunton at this moment. Meg had to be a hero
right now.
And there was nothing, nothing at all she could do.

“Poor goody-goody princess,” Malison crooned.

Then suddenly Meg remembered a spell she had done once. It was supposed to foster learning and memory, but instead—well, Master Torskelly had been very
unhappy. And Meg was out of time to think of anything better.

Malison smiled mockingly. “I just want to see one more of your ridiculous spells before you die,” the sorceress said. “Waffles!” she added with a snort.

Meg searched in her heart for hope. Finding none, she fell back on sheer necessity. Meg cast her spell, saying the words softly one by one. “Josrif bakul dorsh.” Had she even remembered it right?

At first nothing happened. Meg tensed herself to pick up the sword and defend Lex as best she could, for as long as she could, against Malison’s power.

“That’s it?” Malison said. “How
very
disappointing!”

Just then the sorceress sneezed. It was Meg’s turn to smile. “What?” Malison said. And sneezed again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Over and over, Malison sneezed, doubling over at the waist, she sneezed so hard. The sorceress waved her arms and tried to speak, but all she could do was sneeze and sneeze, and then sneeze some more.

Malison hadn’t wanted a fair fight, and thanks to Meg, she had gotten her wish. Well, sort of, Meg thought. It’s really very hard to cast a spell while sneezing, the princess of Greeve concluded happily.

NFORTUNATELY, BAIN REAPPEARED IN THE
doorway, and he was frowning. “What have you done to the empress?” he asked.

In answer, Meg picked up her sword from where she’d dropped it and pointed it at Bain.

He didn’t seem very worried. “Whatever it is, take it off.”

Meg gave him an incredulous look. “So she can
kill
me? Um—no.”

Bain advanced on her, brandishing his own sword. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, Princess. That dragon of yours has my best men bottled up in one of the drawing rooms. And you appear to have corrupted the servants.”

“Don’t you mean slaves? Or should I call them your sisters and aunts and cousins?”

“Call them misguided,” Bain said, sounding a lot like
Lieutenant Staunton. “Put down the sword before I’m forced to kill you.”

“We can’t have that,” Meg told him, still half listening to the delightful sound of Malison sneezing. With blistering logic, she inquired, “How would Malison feel if you didn’t save me for her to kill later?”

Bain paused. “Good point.” He moved forward again with far too much grace and skill. “I’ll simply have to disarm you. Perhaps maim you a bit.”

Meg fended off his first blow. She knew very well this wouldn’t last long. “Scarf!” she called. The scarf must not have recovered from Malison’s spell. It whined once, but stayed where it had hidden itself.

“Laddy!” Meg yelled.

“He won’t be able to hear you,” Bain informed her, thrusting with near-deadly effect.

True, Meg thought. And she yelled again, this time in her mind.
Laddy!

Meg managed to avoid Bain’s blade for the second time, but when she attempted an offensive move, it didn’t work in the slightest. She had to keep trying to block his attacks, and she wasn’t very good at it. Master Zolis’s advice about running away popped into her head. “Ha!” she said under her breath. She wished she had the option of fleeing Bain’s onslaught, but she was utterly incapable of leaving Lex here on the floor, unconscious.

To think that Meg had wanted to see Bain again! She parried as best she could, panting. Then someone
stepped into the doorway behind Bain, and she glanced up. Bain began to turn around, but it was too late—Stefka was already swinging her frying pan through the air. The pan met the guard captain’s head with a satisfying CRACK!

Bain staggered. Stefka hit him a second time. This time Bain fell down and did not get up.

Meg felt a pang despite everything. “He’s not dead, is he?”

Stefka checked Bain’s pulse. “No. Just as well. Alya would have my head if he were.”

In a sobering instant, they both remembered where Alya was. Stefka turned to look at Malison, who was still sneezing steadily, crouching over and straightening repeatedly, trying not to trip on the scampering books. “Well now, there’s a sight,” Stefka remarked.

The sounds in the hall had quieted, and Imkuhl stuck her head in the door. “Everything’s under control out here. Oh!” she said, getting a look at Malison. Pretty soon half the women in the fortress were there, taking turns poking their heads into the workroom so that they, too, could enjoy the spectacle of Malison sneezing helplessly and crashing about.

“I don’t know how long it will last,” Meg said. “The only other time I did this, it went on for an hour or so.”

Stefka knelt beside Lex. “If we wake him before the hour’s up, will he be able to help us? Or did she vanquish him?”

Meg shook her head. “Bain hit him. I’m pretty sure he was winning.”

“Or Bain wouldn’t have hit him.” Stefka turned her head to look at Bain, who was still lying on the floor. “Makes me even more glad I knocked him down.”

“Fair’s fair,” Meg agreed. Then she thought of a question. “How did you know I needed help?”

“Your dragon swung his head about and nearly left us to go up the hall to you. I guessed what he was up to, so I told him I’d make sure you were all right.”

On hearing this, Meg went to find Laddy and thank him for sending Stefka and for helping with the guards. He was sitting in the hall outside one of the parlors, intimidating the guards trapped within.
You’re safe!
Laddy cried when he saw Meg.

Thanks to you. Stefka hit the guard captain on the head just in time.

Laddy surveyed his prisoners.
Did I do a good job?
he asked, although he already knew the answer.

You did a marvelous job
, Meg told him.
I’m very proud of you!
Laddy lifted his head and posed heroically for her benefit.
You’re the best dragon in the Southern Reaches
, Meg said, kissing him on his scaly nose.

What about the Eastern and Western and Northern ones?

Those, too
, she assured him.

The next morning, Meg woke up in a nice, soft bed with a black satin comforter, happy not to be in a dungeon cell. After she had washed her face and put on a clean
black dress, she went looking for Lex. She found him in a little parlor on the first floor eating a hearty breakfast of eggs and ham, served by half a dozen smiling women. Everyone was very pleased with Lex for unenchanting the guards and Alya and the lizards, not to mention putting a silence spell on Malison. The women served Meg, too, then left the two friends to their meal.