The Wizardry Consulted (Wiz, #4)(12)
“One tenth of the town’s produce for a year,” Wiz said as blandly as he could manage.
“Preposterous!”
“Hardly. The dragons cost you more than that in a bad year and probably almost that much in most years.”
“Absurd,” said the mayor, with a little less conviction.
“Quite reasonable, actually.”
“It would be worth it if he succeeded,” said one of the councilors, a portly man in a forest green short robe and rose pink hose.
“Utter nonsense,” said another councilor.
“Are you afraid he might succeed?” asked a silver-haired man in sea blue.
The mayor’s face turned red and a vein in his temple started to throb.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” interposed a pudgy man with a rim of white hair around a sweat-shiny scalp. “Suppose it got about that this wizard had made his offer and we had refused out of hand? Can we afford not to let him try?”
The councilors nodded and muttered among themselves and even the mayor seemed momentarily lost in thought.
“Very well,” Hendrick said at last. “You shall have your opportunity. But,” and he stepped close to the bars and wagged his finger under Wiz’s nose, “we expect results. We only pay for results.”
The fact that he didn’t haggle over the price told Wiz the mayor didn’t expect him to complete the assignment successfully.
“Plus room and board, while I work,” Wiz said.
The mayor opened his mouth to object, caught the mood of the council and merely nodded.
“Oh yes, I’ll need a local assistant.”
Hendrick didn’t look pleased. “Don’t know that I can spare anyone.”
“What about the young lady over there?” Wiz pointed to Malkin, sitting demurely in her cell. “I believe she is available.”
The mayor turned to look at Malkin and a smile spread slowly over his face. Wiz didn’t need to read minds to know he saw a way to get rid of two thorns in his side when Wiz failed.
“Very well. Warder! Release the prisoner into this wizard’s keeping.”
As soon as the cell door was unlocked Malkin threw herself about the mayor’s neck, weeping and thanking him for his generosity. Since she was nearly half a head taller than the mayor, the result was incongruous to say the least.
Mayor Hendrick was still trying to brush her off when someone burst into the office below shouting for the watch.
There was a mutter of conversation downstairs and then two sets of feet came pounding up the staircase.
“Dragon!” panted the lean straw-haired man in the lead. “Dragon’s hit the Baggot Place. Got Farmer Baggot and his whole family.”
“Ate them all?” demanded the mayor.
“Not yet,” the man gasped. “Least not when I left. He’s got them penned in the farmyard.”
The mayor turned back to the cell and smiled at Wiz in a way that wasn’t at all pleasant. “Well, Wizard,” he said, “it seems you face your first test.”
Six: More Than One Way to Skin a Dragon
First get them talking.
The Consultants’ Handbook
The Baggot Place was about a mile out of town. Since the mayor and council didn’t offer to provide transportation, Wiz and his new apprentice had to walk.
It was a fine morning for walking. The sky was clear, the air was cool, the sun golden, and the morning light made the dew on the brilliant green grass sparkle and glitter as far as the eye could see.
They weren’t the only ones on the road. Ahead and behind them, people were trooping out of town along the road. Occasionally an apprentice or schoolboy would overtake them and run on ahead.
“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Wiz asked Malkin.
“This is the way to the Baggot Place and that’s a fact,” Malkin replied, tossing and catching something shiny as she strode along, her long legs letting her match Wiz stride for stride.
“Then why are all these people coming this way? Don’t they know they’re headed toward the dragon, not away from it?”
“Course they know,” Malkin said. “They want to see the show.”
“The show?”
“The dragon burning down the farm. Or maybe even you destroying the dragon.” The way she said it made it obvious which way Malkin thought it would go.
“Hmmpf!” Wiz snorted. Then he got a closer look at the shiny thing his companion was juggling. It was a heavy gold chain with a big medallion attached.
“Where did you get that?”
“Pinched it when old baggy eyes wasn’t looking,” Malkin said gaily. “He never even noticed it.”
“Well give it back!” Wiz commanded. “Preferably so he doesn’t know you took it.”
Malkin turned sullen for a moment and then brightened. “You mean un-steal it? Put it back around his neck so he doesn’t notice? Now that could be fun.”
Wiz groaned. Obviously his new associate’s profession was an avocation as much as a necessity. Kleptomania he hadn’t counted on.
“Why’d you spring me anyway?” Malkin asked, tucking the chain away in her jerkin.
“Because I needed someone who knows this place to tell me what’s going on. And so far you’re the only honest person I’ve met.” Then he eyed the bulge in Malkin’s clothing.