A Spell For Chameleon Part 17

"Same thing."

"I followed you out here, you know."

Her meaning was coming clear. She had heard about him in Xanth, the traveler with no spell. She had known that would be no liability in Mundania. What better match--the man with no magic, the woman with no beauty. Similar liabilities. Perhaps he could get used to her appearance in time; her other qualities were certainly commendable. Except for one thing.

"I understand your position," he said. "But, if you cooperate with the Evil Magician, I won't have anything to do with you, even if he makes you beautiful. Not that it matters---you can get your reward in Xanth when he takes over, if he honors his given word this time."

"You restore my courage," she said. "Let's make a break for it."

"How?"

"The bricks, dummy. They're hard now. As soon as it's dark, we'll make a pile---"

"The grate keeps us in; its door is still locked. A step won't make any difference. If just getting up there were the only problem, I could lift you--"

"There is a difference," she murmured. "We pile the bricks, stand on them, and push the whole grate up. It's not anch.o.r.ed; I checked that when they brought us in here. Gravity holds it down. It's heavy, but you're strong---"

Bink looked up with sudden hope. "You could prop it up after I heave. Step by step, until--"

"Not so loud!" she whispered fiercely. "They may still be eavesdropping." But she nodded. "You've got the idea. It's not a sure thing but it's worth a try. And we'll have to make a raid on the store of elixir, so he can't use it even if someone else comes out to tell him where the s.h.i.+eldstone is. I've been working it all out."

Bink smiled. He was beginning to like her.

Chapter 10: Chase.

At night they piled up the bricks. Some crumbled, for the scant sunlight had not been sufficient to bake them properly, but on the whole they were surprisingly st.u.r.dy. Bink listened carefully for the guards, waiting until they took what they called a "break." Then he stepped to the top of the brick pile, braced his hands against the edge of the grate and shoved.

As his muscles tightened, he suddenly realized that this was Fanchon's real reason for demanding the privacy curtain of the privy. It had not been to hide her unsightly anatomy, but to hide the bricks--so they would be preserved for this moment, this effort to escape. And he had never caught on.

The revelation gave him strength. He shoved hard--and the grate rose with surprising ease. Fanchon scrambled up beside him and jammed the privy pot under the lifted edge.

Ugh! Maybe some year someone would develop a pot that smelled of roses!

But it did the job. It supported the grate as he eased off. Now there was room to scramble out. Bink gave her a boost, then hauled himself up. No guards saw them. They were free.

"The elixir is on that s.h.i.+p," Fanchon whispered, pointing into the darkness.

"How do you know that?" Bink asked.

"We pa.s.sed it on our way to the--transformation. It's the only thing that would be guarded so carefully. And you can see the catapult aboard it."

She had certainly kept her eyes open. Ugly she might be, but she was smart He hadn't thought to survey the premises with such an a.n.a.lytic eye!

"Now, getting that elixir will be a problem," she continued. "I think we'd better take the whole s.h.i.+p. Can you sail?"

"I've never been on anything bigger than a rowboat in my life, except maybe Iris's yacht, and that wasn't real. I'd probably get seasick."

"Me too," she agreed. "We're landlubbers. Sa they'll never look for us there. Come on."

Well, it was better than being changed into a c.o.c.katrice.

They crept down to the beach and entered the water. Bink looked back nervously---and saw a light moving toward the pit. "Hurry!" he whispered. "We forgot to put the grate back down; they'll know we're gone right away."

At least they were both reasonably good swimmers. They shed their clothing--what had happened to it during the transformations? Again, no explaining the details of magic--and stroked silently for the sailboat moored a quarter mile out. Bink was alarmed by the dark depths of the water beneath him; what type of monsters dwelled in Mundane seas?

The water was not cold, and the exertion of swimming helped warm him; but gradually Bink tired and felt chilled. Fanchon suffered similarly. The s.h.i.+p had not seemed far, viewed from land---but that had been walking distance. Swimming distance was quite another matter.

Then the hue and cry commenced back at the prison pit. Lights flared everywhere, moving around like fire-flies---but setting no fires. Bink had an infusion of new strength. "We've got to get there fast," he gasped.

Fanchon didn't answer. She was too busy swimming.

The swim was interminable. It drained strength from Bink, making him become more pessimistic. But at last they came up to the s.h.i.+p. A sailor was standing on the deck, a silhouette in the light of the moon, peering at the sh.o.r.e.

Fanchon drew close to Bink. "You go--other side," she gasped. "I--distract."

She had guts. The sailor might put an arrow in her. But Bink stroked laboriously around the keel, moving to the far side. The s.h.i.+p was about forty feet long, large by Xanth standards. But if any part of what Trent had said about Mundania was true, there were much larger s.h.i.+ps there.

He reached up and put his fingers on the edge of the hull. He tried to think of the name of this portion of a s.h.i.+p's anatomy, but could not. He hoped there weren't other sailors watching. He had to haul himself up slowly over the gunwale--that was the name-- as not to rock the boat.

Now Fanchon, with superlative timing, made a clamor, as of someone drowning. The sailors went to the rail--four of them in all--and Bink heaved himself up as silently as he could. He sc.r.a.ped, for his muscles felt leaden, unresponsive. His wet body slapped against the deck, and the s.h.i.+p tilted back a bit under his weight---but the sailors stood riveted to the other side, watching the show.

Bink got to his feet and slunk up to the mast. The sails were furled, so that it offered scant concealment; they would see him when they turned with their lamps.

Well, he would have to act first. He felt ill equipped to indulge in combat, his arms and feet cold and heavy, but it was necessary. He walked silently up behind the four, his heart pounding. They were leaning over the rail, trying to see Fanchon, who was still making a considerable commotion. Bink put his left hand against the back of the nearest sailor and caught the man's trouser with his right hand. He heaved, hard and suddenly--and the sailor went up and over with a cry of alarm.

Bink swung immediately to the next, grabbing and shoving. The man had started to turn toward his companion's exclamations--but too late. Bink heaved, and the sailor went over. Almost over---one hand caught the rail. The sailor clung, twisting around to face inward. Bink knocked at his fingers and finally pried them loose, and the man dropped into the water.

But the loss of time and momentum had been crucial. Now the other two were upon Bink. One wrapped an arm around Bink's shoulder, trying to choke him, while the other hovered behind.

What had Crombie said to do in a situation like this? Bink concentrated and remembered. He grabbed the man, bent his knees, leaned forward, and heaved.

It worked beautifully. The sailor sailed over Bink's shoulder and crashed on his back on the deck.

But the last one was stepping in, fists swinging. He caught Bink on the side of the head with glancing but numbing force. Bink fell to the deck himself, and the man dove on top of him. To make things worse, Bink saw one of the others climbing back aboard. He put up his feet to hold off his opponent, but this was only partially effective. The burly sailor was pus.h.i.+ng him down, pinning him--and the other was about to join in.

The standing figure lifted a foot. Bink could not even flinch; his arms were tangled, his body held down. The foot swung--and struck the head of Bink's antagonist The man rolled off Bink with a groan. It was not fun, being kicked in the head. But how had the kicker missed the proper target, at such close range? The lamps had all gone into the water along with their owners; maybe in the dark a mistake-- "Help me get him over the edge," Fanchon said. "We've got to secure this s.h.i.+p."

And he had mistaken her for a sailor, though she was naked! Well, blame the inadequate light again. Moonlight was pretty, but in a situation like this- But the remaining two sailors were already rising over the gunwale. Acting on a common impulse, Bink grabbed his erstwhile opponent's shoulders, and Fanchon grabbed his feet. "One--two--three---heave!" she gasped.

They heaved almost together. The man swung up and into his two companions. All three went over the edge to splash in the sea. Bink hoped they were all lively enough to swim. The fourth one lay on the deck, apparently unconscious.

"Pull up the anchor!" Fanchon ordered. "I'll get a pole." She ran to the s.h.i.+p's cabin, a lean figure in the moonlight.

Bink found the anchor chain and hauled on it. The thing snagged infuriatingly, because he did not know how to make it let go, but finally he got it up.

"What did you do to this guy?" Fanchon demanded, kneeling beside the fallen sailor.

"I threw him. Crombie showed me how."

"Crombie? I don't remember--"

"A soldier I met in Xanth. We got caught in a hailstorm, and I was going back after Dee, but--well, it's complicated."

"Oh yes--you did mention the soldier." She paused. "Dee? You went after her? Why?"

"She had run out into the storm and--well, I liked her." Then, to cover up what might have been taken as a slight to his present company, who had shown extreme sensitivity about such things before, he said: "What happened to the other sailors? Did they drown?"

"I showed them this," she said, pointing to a wicked-looking boathook. "They swam for sh.o.r.e instead."

"We'd better get moving. If we can figure out the sail"

"No. The current is carrying us out. Wind's the wrong way. We'd just mess it up, trying to handle the sails when we don't know what we're doing."

Bink looked across at the other s.h.i.+p. Lights were on it. "Those sailors didn't swim ash.o.r.e," he said. "They went next door. They'll be coming after us--under sail."

"They can't," she said. "I told you--the wind."

But now it was unmistakable. The other sail was being spread. They were using the wind.

"We'd better find that elixir," she said.

"Yes." He had forgotten about it. But for that, they could have run across the land and been lost in Mundania. But could he have lived with himself, buying his own freedom while leaving Xanth subject to the siege of the Evil Magician? "We'll dump it overboard--"

"No!"

"But I thought--"

"We'll use it as hostage. As long as we have it, they won't close on us. We'll take turns standing on the deck and holding the vial over the sea so they can see us. If anything happens to---"

"Beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I never would have thought of that."

"First we have to find our hostage. If we guessed wrong about the s.h.i.+p, if they put the catapult on this one and the elixir on the other--"

"Then they wouldn't be chasing us," he said.

"Yes they would. They need the catapult too. And most of all, they need us."

They searched the s.h.i.+p. In the cabin was a chained monster of a type Bink had never seen before. It was not large, but quite horrible in other respects. Its body was completely covered with hair, white with black spots, and it had a thin tail, floppy black ears, a small black nose, and gleaming white teeth. Its four feet had stubby claws. It snarled viciously as Bink approached--but it was chained by the neck to the wall, its mad leaps cut brutally short by that tether.

"What is it?" Bink asked, horrified.

Fanchon considered. "I think it's a werewolf."

Now the creature looked halfway familiar. It did resemble a werewolf, fixed in its animal stage.

"Out here in Mundania?"

"Well, it must be related. If it had more heads, it would be like a cerberus. With only one head, I think it's a dog."

Bink gaped. "A dog! I think you're right. I've never actually seen a dog before. Not in the flesh. Just pictures."

"I don't think there are any in Xanth today. There used to be, but they must have migrated out."

"Through the s.h.i.+eld?" Bink demanded.

"Before the s.h.i.+eld was set up, of course--though I'd thought there were references to dogs and cats and horses within the past century. I must have misremembered the dates."

"Well, it seems we have one here now. It looks vicious. It must be guarding the elixir."

"Trained to attack strangers," she agreed. "I suppose we'll have to kill it."

"But it's a rare creature. Maybe the only one left alive today."

"We don't know that. Dogs might be common in Mundania. But it is rather pretty, once you get used to it."

The dog had quieted down, though it still watched them warily. A small dragon might watch a person that way, Bink thought, if the person were just outside its striking range. With the proper break, the person might come within range ...

"Maybe we could revive the sailor and have him tame it," Bink said. "The animal must be responsive to members of this s.h.i.+p's crew. Otherwise they could never get at the elixir."

"Good idea," she agreed.

The sailor had finally recovered consciousness, but he was in no condition to resume the fight. "We'll let you go," Fanchon told him; "if you tell us how to tame that dog. We don't want to have to kill it, you see."

"Who, Jennifer?" the man asked dazedly. "Just speak her name, pat her on the head, and feed her." He lay back. "I think my collarbone's broke."

Fanchon looked at Bink. "Can't make him swim, then. Trent may be a monster, but we aren't." She turned back to the sailor. "If you will give your word not to interfere with us in any way, we'll help you recover as well as we can. Deal?"

The sailor didn't hesitate. "I can't interfere with you. I can't get up. Deal."

This bothered Bink. He and Fanchon sounded just like Trent, offering better terms to a captive enemy in return for his cooperation. Were they any different from the Evil Magician?

Fanchon checked the sailor's body around the shoulders. "Yow!" he cried.

"I'm no doctor," she said, "but I think you're right. You have a broken bone. Are there any pillows aboard?"

"Listen," the sailor said as she worked on him. He was obviously trying to divert his attention from the pain. "Trent's no monster. You called him that, but you're wrong. He's a good leader."

"He's promised you all the spoils of Xanth?" Fanchon asked, with an edge to her voice.

"No, just farms or jobs for all of us," he said.

"No killing, no rapine, no loot?" Her disbelief was evident.