Rick Cook - The Wizardry Quested

Jerry slipped one hand out of the relative warmth of his heavy cloak and pulled the fur-trimmed hood closer around his nose. The fur smelled faintly of cedar even in the nose-numbing cold. He made no move to go back in.

So stand to your glasses steady: This world is a world full of lies. It was Charlie, obviously very much the worse for wear. From the way he was staggering Jerry was afraid he was going to fall off the walkway into the courtyard two stories below.

He was bareheaded and wearing only his flight suit and flying jacket; not even gloves. The old pilot must be freezing in this weather but he seemed too full of drink and his own concerns to notice.

"How ya doin’?" he slurred as he came up to Jerry.

"Okay," Jerry said neutrally, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t "I got my ears pinned back good an’ proper tonight," Charlie told him with an air of alcoholic confession. "I butted into something that wasn’t my affair, squadron business, and I got what I damn well deserved."

Jerry nodded and didn’t say anything.

"A squadron’s like a family, son. There’s times outsiders are welcome and there’s times they ain’t. Forget that and you’re gonna get slapped down." Some comment seemed called for. "You must have run into that in Vietnam," Jerry said.

Charlie leaned on the parapet and stared out into the freezing night.

"I wasn’t in Vietnam," the old man said softly. "Hell son, I didn’t learn to fly until I was thirty-two." He turned back to look at Terry.

"You know what I was? I was an accountant. A goddamn accountant! But I got lucky and I was in the right place at the right time and when we went public I walked away with nearly twelve million bucks.

"A good chunk of that went to my second wife, but I was still left with more money than any normal human being can spend in a lifetime of trying. The day we closed the deal, I came out of the lawyer’s office, tore off my coat and tie, threw ’em in a trash can and I vowed I’d spend the rest of my life doing exactly what I wanted.

"Oh yeah, I got what I wanted." He smiled off into the darkness but there was no humor in it. "Maybe what I deserved."

Charlie hawked and spat out into the crystal night.

"Thirty years of doing just what I wanted and you know what that adds up to? Not a bucket of warm piss.

"I’m sixty-three years old, I got a drinking problem, diabetes and a cardiac arrhythmia that’s probably gonna kill me if the other stuff don’t get me first."

"Sounds like you had fun, anyway," Jerry said neutrally.

Charlie turned to face him. "You know what I found? Too much fun ain’t fun any more. You need some kind of purpose to make it all mean something." He waggled a finger under Jerry’s nose. "Now you, you’ve been dragged from pillar to post. But you know what? All of that was for a cause. It means something.

Take this here. You’re gonna go charging off to rescue your lady love and maybe save the world

"Maybe you’ll win, maybe you’ll lose. But when it comes to the end you’re gonna be able to look back on your life and say it meant something.

"Son," the old man said, "from where I stand you’ve got nothing to complain about."

Mick Gilligan peered down onto the floor of the aerie, trying to pick a familiar blond head out of the dozen or so mounted dragon riders assembled below for the dawn patrol. But the aerie was softly lit and the observation balcony where he stood was high. He thought Karin was the third in line, but he couldn’t be sure. At an unheard command the first dragon lumbered forward, spreading its great bat wings as it picked up speed. In five strides it blocked the daylight and then it was out of the cave, its wings beating strongly. By that time the second dragon had started its run and the third was straining forward. One by one the beasts and their riders poured put of the door and vanished into the bright blue beyond. Mick waited until the last of them had gone and turned away as the grooms and other ground crew swarmed out onto the floor to prepare for further operations.

"Forgive me, My Lord," came a gentle female voice behind him. "You seem troubled." Gilligan turned and started when he found himself face-to-face with a dragon.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Gilligan said, ignoring his questioner’s physical form.

"You are worried about Karin, are you not?"

"She asked to be put back on flying status. We had a big fight."

"She is a dragon rider, after all," Moira said gently. "As a flier, surety you can understand how she feels."

"Yeah, but it’s different from this side of the fence.

I’m getting some of my own back " His mouth quirked bitterly. " You know something? I don’t like it."

Shit! Telling my problems to a dragon. Well, it was no crazier than the rest of this place.

"We seldom do," Moira agreed. For a while both of them stared at the bustle of activity in the aerie below without talking.

"What brings you here?" Gilligan asked.

"Watching me dragons. I enjoy it-or rather this body enjoys it." She sighed.

"Sometimes I am not sure of the difference any more."

Charlie was at Bal-Simbas door early the next morning. That was surprising because the old man had established himself as a late riser. Looking at his generally disheveled condition and smelling the alcohol on his breath, Bal-Simba surmised he hadn’t been to bed yet.

"I need to talk to you," Charlie said without preamble.

"I am at your disposal, My Lord." Bal Simba gestured to a chair but Charlie kept standing.

"You’ve got a big show coming up," Charlie said. "I want a piece of it. Flying." Bal-Simba cocked his head. "On a dragon? I believe your machine will not work here."

"You mean it won’t fly under its own power," Charlie corrected, "But if you guys can float a big rock you can float a plane."

"Perhaps, but-without meaning offense- what can your craft do that dragons cannot do better?"

A broad smile spread over Charlies face. "Confuse the hell out of ’em."

"Eh?"

"You need a distraction, right? Okay, Mick and the nerds tell me that comes down to an ECM problem. Electronic Counter-Measures," he added quickly at Bal-Simba’s puzzled look. "You need something that will spoof them into thinking you’re coming at them from one direction when you’re really gonna hit them blind-side." He leaned forward and put his hands on Bal-Simba’s work table, heedless of etiquette. "So we load the Colt up with all the magic it can carry and your wizards wave their wands to make it fry. I go blasting toward the Enemy, radiating magic like it was going out of style. They’ll know something is coming, but they won’t know what. It will be radiating enough magic to cover every dragon in the North."

In spite of himself, Bal-Simba nodded.

Charlie grinned. "The best part of it is that even once they acquire me visually they still won’t know what the hell they’ve got They can’t just break off like they would with a drone."

The big wizard grinned mirthlessly. "You mean they would continue to pursue you and try to destroy you. We cannot spare the dragons to protect you. Not a safe position, I fear."

The old man grinned back equally mirthlessly. "It’s sporty son. Downright sporty."

Bal-Simba looked more closely at the pilot, and thought hard. The man was apparently sincere and undoubtedly sober enough to understand what he was suggesting. Having such a strange thing at the center of the magic would indeed confuse the Enemy.