After the Downfall

“After that, go pour another bucket of cold water on yourself,” Drepteaza answered. But she was still smiling. Hasso clung to that, as a drowning man would cling to … to an anvil, if he’s dumb enough, and odds are you qualify, the German thought. He went off to see Lord Zgomot.

Zgomot was none too young and none too pretty. But he was plenty smart. “If this works,” he told Hasso, “it will be the most important weapon we’ve ever found against the Lenelli.”

“Not perfect,” Hasso said. “If your army is in a pass and they magic up a landslide, amulets don’t stop falling rocks. I am sure of it.”

“So am I.” The Lord of Bucovin’s voice was dry. “We have tried all sorts of things to block their magic. I am not surprised no one thought of dragon bones till now, though. Dragons are just too hard to come by.” He spoke to one of his attendants: “Fetch the blond named Scanno here.”

“Yes, Lord.” The man bobbed his head and hurried away.

When Scanno came in, he had his right arm in a makeshift sling. He took one look at Hasso and stopped dead. “Is this miserable bastard complaining about me, Lord? I ought to complain about him, the – ” What followed was a colorful mix of Bucovinan and Lenello.

“He is not complaining of you. He says you know of a dragon’s skeleton in Bottero’s kingdom. Is that so?”

“I ought to break him in half. I will, too, first chance I get.” Scanno didn’t shift gears easily.

“That will be later. Answer my question now,” Zgomot said. “Do you know where there is a dragon’s skeleton in King Bottero’s lands?”

Scanno shook his good fist at Hasso. “You were just lucky, you – ” The Lord of Bucovin coughed sharply. That seemed to recall Scanno to himself. “Uh, yeah. I know where there is one – or where there was one, anyway, once upon a time. What about it? Why does it matter?”

“You will set down directions for reaching this place. You will do so as exactly as you know how to do. If we succeed in bringing back dragon bones, you will be rewarded as handsomely as we know how. If you lead us astray … That would be unfortunate. For you.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t do that, Lord. You know me. I hate Bottero more’n you do, that blowhard pile of pig shit.” Scanno’s voice took on a certain whine Hasso had heard before – not here, but in Europe during the war. It was the whine of collaborators who knew they had to keep reminding their bosses that they were useful and that they really had switched sides. It was a whine Hasso hoped he would never hear in his own voice.

“You can do what I ask of you, then?” Zgomot pressed.

“Sure. Only I don’t know if the bones’ll still be there, y’know? I haven’t had anything to do with ‘em for years and years, so you can’t scrag me – well, you shouldn’t scrag me – if they aren’t, like. It’s at the butt end of nowhere, too.”

“If my men believe you have led them to the right spot, no harm will come to you – by Lavtrig I swear it,” Zgomot said. “There should be some evidence of that, whether the bones remain or not. Is that fair?”

“I guess.” But Scanno’s whine got stronger. “What’s all this about, anyhow? How come you need dragon bones all of a sudden?”

Lord Zgomot looked at Hasso. Hasso looked back at the Lord of Bucovin. He didn’t think Zgomot would say anything. But the native did: “What you don’t know, Scanno, no one can drag out of you if misfortune comes.”

“You’ve got some kind of fancy reason for not telling me,” Scanno said, which was nothing but the truth. His red-tracked eyes swung to Hasso. “And fry my balls if it doesn’t have to do with magic.” He made as if to touch the amulet he wore, but dropped his hand before it got where it was going. “So you think the dragon bone really does have something to do with blocking spells, eh?”

Hasso and Zgomot looked at each other again. Scanno might have been – was – a renegade with a hollow leg, but that didn’t make him a jerk. With a weary sigh, Zgomot said, “Well, you have made sure you will not leave Falticeni until the bone hunters return with their quarry. We cannot have the Lenelli pulling this out of you.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Lord.” There was that whine again, this time thick enough to slice. Hasso eyed Scanno with imperfect trust. If Scanno brought word about dragon bones to King Bottero and his wizards, chances were the news would buy his way back into their good graces. And Hasso knew all about the impulse to switch sides. Fortunately, Zgomot didn’t know how well he knew it. Scanno went on, “I’ll let your people know where they can find the bones. My head will answer if they don’t bring back a cartload of ‘em, or at least find out where they were.”

“That is what I want. Go talk to the scribes. Tell them where the place is. Draw them a map. Do that now, while the thought is fresh in your mind,” Zgomot said.

“Whatever you want, Lord.” Scanno sketched a salute and hurried off.