David Brin - The Practice Effect

“One more thing, Wizard. Should you ever again embarrass me in front of outsiders, or attempt to thwart me in any way, you will find my torturers have planned something special for you. There will be no repeat of yesterday’s unfortunate demonstration. Am I understood?”

Dennis said nothing. He looked at the tall blond man in the resplendent costume, and nodded, barely.

The Baron acknowledged with a possessive smile. “You will be happy here, Dennis Nuel,” he promised. “Eventually— perhaps soon, if you behave well—we will improve your quarters again. Then you and I can talk as gentlemen once more. I would be interested in learning how your people persuade their recalcitrant L’Toff to become pliant. Perhaps Princess Linnora can be a test case.”

He grinned, then turned and left. The door closed, leaving Dennis alone with a single guard. For a long time there was silence; only the distant shouts of drilling troops carried up from far below.

The Earthman sat on his cot. He could almost imagine it perceptibly changing, minute by minute, into a better and better bed as he lay in it.

Logically, his options were still the same, only put off a little. In a year or two of feeding Kremer wonders he felt sure he could gain the man’s trust and gratitude, especially if he invented gunpowder for him, ensuring his conquest of all Coylia.

Dennis shook his head, making up his mind. He hadn’t thought about it much before, but there were few worse criminals on any world than the engineer who blithely and knowingly hands over to a tyrant the tools of oppression. Come plague or ruin, he wasn’t going to give Kremer gunpowder, or the wheel, or the secret of metal smelting, or anything else he could use to make war.

What options did that leave, then?

Only escape. Somehow he had to get out of here again.

Hot iron pincers closed upon his thumbs. A steaming stench rose where the flesh shriveled back, rolling away on black, curling ash.

Dennis moaned. He felt a wet splash against his face and he opened his eyes, breathing hard.

Arth looked down at him worriedly. “You were dreamin’, Dennizz. It must’ve been a bad one. Are you all right now?”

Dennis nodded. He had been taking a nap near their work area after supper. It was twilight already, out in the shadow of the castle.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I’m okay.” He got up and dried his face on a towel. He still felt shaken from the dream.

“I just got back from the jailyard,” Arth told him. “I said I wanted to go and personally pick the guys to run the new still.”

Dennis nodded. “Did you find out anything?”

Arth shook his head. “Nobody’s seen Stivyung or Gath or Maggin or any more of my boys, so they don’t seem to’ve been caught.”

Dennis was glad. Perhaps Stivyung would eventually be reunited with his wife and son. The news helped lift his spirits a little.

“So what’s the plan now?” Arth asked, too low to be overheard by the guards. “Do we try to make another balloon? Or do you have somethin’ else in mind, like that saw that can break through walls?”

After the execution of his friend, Arth was no longer tempted by life within the castle walls. All he wanted was to get away from here, to see his wife again, and to hurt Baron Kremer as badly as possible. The thief looked to the Earth-man with complete confidence.

Dennis wished he could share the feeling.

As twilight fell, a squad of soldiers climbed a pedestal in the courtyard where Dennis’s needler was kept during the day. When not being practiced or stored for the night, it was exposed to sunlight, always surrounded by at least six guards.

Dennis had run through a few calculations. Clearly the needler was approaching the theoretical limit of capability for that type of weapon. No matter how efficient it became, it could only throw slivers of metal with the amount of energy it could absorb through a five-square-centimeter solar collector.

That gave Dennis one more reason to get out of here. Kremer had talked of using the needler to blast down the walls of cities. Dennis didn’t want to be around when the Baron found out the deadly little weapon could be practiced only so far.

He watched the guards cautiously remove the needler from its little solarium. No. The device was guarded much too closely. He clearly wasn’t going to be able to reclaim his property and blast his way to freedom. There would have to be another way.

He had considered building a wheeled cart and practicing it into an armored car. Theoretically, it should be possible. But it could take months or years, at the rate things normally improved here. It just wasn’t feasible under the circumstances.

As dusk settled, the watch kites were pulled in. The Baron’s glider corps had already swooped down from their training flights for the night.

Dennis thought again about those glider sheds. They were lightly guarded. It took long training to learn to fly one of the gossamer-winged things, and Baron Kremer apparently assumed he controlled the only corps of qualified pilots in the world.

He was right. Dennis had never flown even a fixed-wing glider, not to mention one of these kite things. But he had taken a few private flying lessons in single-engined prop planes. He had always intended to go back and get his license.

The two kinds of flying couldn’t be that different, could they?

Anyway, he had seen lots of movies and talked to hang-glider pilots about how it was done. And he had taken courses in the physics of aerodynamics. The principles seemed simple enough.

“Have you managed to pick a way in and out of your room yet?” he asked Arth.

“Of course.” The small thief sniffed. “They bolt th’ door, but you can’t keep a fellow like me in a room that hasn’t been practiced as a jail.”

“Especially with the help of a little slippery oil.”

Arth shrugged. They had been careful to collect the stuff when nobody was looking, so they only had a little. Still, just a little bit of the perfect lubricant could go a long way.

“I can get about the cruder parts of th’ castle pretty well after dark. The hard part’s the outer walls, where they’ve got dogs, an’ sniffer beasts, an’ lights and guards by the dozens. I could pilfer half the stuff in Kremer’s banquet room if I knew I could get off the castle-mount with it.”

“Do you think you could snatch one of those?” Dennis nodded toward the shed where they had watched the pilots carefully fold their machines earlier.

Arth looked at Dennis nervously. “Uh, I dunno. Those gliders are kinda bulky…” He bit his lower lip. “Your question’s just… uh, hypothetical.” He carefully spoke the word Dennis had taught him. “Isn’ it? It doesn’ have nothin’ to do with your idea on how to escape from here, does it?”

“It does, Arth.”

Arth shuddered. “I was afraid you’d say that. Dennizz, do you know how many men Kremer lost before they learned to handle those things? They still lose nearly half their new pilots. Can you actually fly one?”

Dennis needed Arth’s help. To get it he would have to inspire faith. “What do you think?” he asked confidently.

Arth smiled slightly, tentatively. “Yeah, sure. I guess only an idiot would try to take off in one of those things, in th’ dark, without knowin’ what he’s doin’. I’m sorry, Dennizz.”

Dennis managed not to wince visibly at his friend’s way of putting it. He clasped Arth’s shoulder. “Right. Now, do you think you’ll be able to hide the glider until we need it? Kremer’s people don’t seem to understand inventory control, but they may miss it anyway.”

“No problem.” Arth grinned. “My room’s stuffed with heaps of cloth and lumber for our ‘experiments.’ The servants’ve got orders to give us any junk we want, whatever’s not sharp or made of metal. I can hide it in there easy.”