Rick Cook - The Wizardry Consulted

"My, you are a bit odd, aren’t you?" the dragon said at last.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Normally the only humans who approach us are warriors who come blustering and bashing, or magicians who come hurling all sorts of dreadfully tacky spells. But you’re not doing either. I wonder what you could be?"

"I’m a negotiator. I’m here to arrange for the release of the hostages."

"Hostages? Oh, you mean those." The dragon jerked its head toward a corner of the farmyard and Wiz saw several people huddled together. One young man scrambled to his feet as if to dash for safety through the open gate, but without turning his head the dragon lifted his tail and brandished it threateningly. The youth turned white and sank to his knees.

"Actually they’re not hostages. More in the nature of provisions."

"That’s what I wanted to talk to you about," Wiz said.

"You’re not frightened, are you?"

"No," Wiz lied.

"Oh, I do hope you’re not," the dragon said. "These-" he twitched his tail at the cowering knot of people "-are frightened positively speechless and I was so hoping for some amusing conversation before dinner."

"Uh, I don’t suppose I could convince you to make a meal of beef?"

The dragon licked his chops and his fangs glinted evilly in the morning sun. "Oh, certainly. As a second course."

Then he was all mock civility again. "But I am being churlish. Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Griswold."

"Pleased to meet you," Wiz lied once more. "I’m Wiz Zumwalt."

"Ah, yes," Griswold said, regarding him closely. "And a wizard too, I see. My, my. How opportune of you to come to call."

Wiz was feeling that it was less opportune by the moment, but he didn’t say that.

"Yes, ah, now about releasing these people…"

"Oh, quite out of the question, I can assure you. But surely you knew that before you arrived?" The dragon heaved a great gusty sigh. "You humans, always thinking that wishing for something can make it happen. You are amusing, but you are so dreadfully illogical."

"And dragons are logical?"

"Of course."

For a mad instant Wiz tried to imagine what the NAND diagram for a logical dragon would look like.

And then he saw his opening.

He hesitated. The last time he had tried this with one of this World’s creatures he had nearly lost his soul. But he didn’t have much choice. He sure couldn’t fight the monster, he didn’t think he could out-magic it on the spur of the moment and he didn’t have any other ideas.

The people of this world didn’t think in the abstract. Abstractions and mathematical thought tended to puzzle and confuse them. Wiz devoutly hoped the same was true of dragons.

He cleared his throat. "Then surely you are skilled in all forms of applied logic. Riddles, say?"

"Dragons are excellent at riddles," Griswold said loftily. "Surely you’re not proposing playing the riddle game with me?"

"Yep. And if I win you turn these people loose and agree never to bother them again."

"And if I win?" Griswold asked, leaning forward so Wiz had to crane his neck to meet the dragon’s eye.

"You get them."

"My dear boy, surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that I have them already. No, you’ll have to offer something more." The dragon licked his chops in anticipation. "Yourself, for instance."

It occurred to Wiz that the dragon had him too, but he tried to ignore that.

"All right, but if I win I want a larger prize, too."

Griswold looked amused. "Gold? Jewels?"

Wiz almost agreed; then he caught sight of a farm implement leaning against the wall. It was a pruning hook, its two-foot curved blade wickedly sharp along its inner edge.

"Uh, no," Wiz said. "I was thinking of something a little more personal."

"What then?"

Wiz smiled as unpleasantly as he could manage. "Well, dragon skin does have a number of magically useful properties."

The dragon hesitated for an instant. "Done and done," he exclaimed.

"Fine. I’ll go first,"

Griswold nodded. "Tell me the riddle, then."

"It isn’t one I tell you. I have to show it to you."

The dragon brightened. "Charades? I haven’t had a good game of charades in ever so long."

"Here are the rules," Wiz told him. emac. Instantly a two-foot-tall demon wearing granny glasses and a green eyeshade popped into existence next to him.

Griswold watched him closely, alert for any sign of treachery.

APL dot man list exe, he commanded.

The demon drew a quill pen from behind one bat ear and began to scribble furiously. Line after line of fiery letters grew before them. Each line defined one of the commands of Jerry’s version of APL. There were a lot of them and the emac took several minutes to write them all in the air.

"Hmm. Ah, yes," Griswold said.

"Now, have you memorized them?"

"Of course." The dragon didn’t sound quite so confident now.

"Fine," Wiz said. emac.

? replied the editing demon.

clear end exe. The emac rubbed the air furiously and the characters vanished. The demon bowed and it vanished as well.

"Now." Wiz picked up a stick and scratched furiously in the dirt.

"I’ll bet you can’t tell me what this does."

Griswold craned his neck forward to stare at the symbols in the dirt.

"Um, ah…"

"Come on," Wiz said. "It’s perfectly logical and quite unambiguous. What is the result?"

"Well…"

The dragon drew his brows together in a mighty frown. He stuck his forked tongue between his ivory fangs and let it loll out one side of his mouth. He cocked his head nearly upside down to get a better view of the characters.

Whistling tunelessly, Wiz strolled over to the wall and picked up the pruning hook. He ran his thumb along the edge nonchalantly and hefted it experimentally.

"You’re forfeit, you know," Wiz said, turning back to the dragon.

"Time," Griswold said desperately. "Give me more time!"

Wiz had never seen a dragon sweat before. He decided it was an interesting effect.

"Can’t you solve it?"

"Of course I can solve it," Griswold said pettishly. "I just need a little more time." His voice rose to a whine inside Wiz’s head. "The rules didn’t say anything about a time limit."

"Very well." Wiz laid the pruning hook aside and gestured magnanimously. "I will give you until the Moon is full again to solve the riddle. Now go."

Griswold sagged with relief. "Thank you," he practically blubbered. Then he hesitated and looked back at the humans huddled behind him. "Uh, I don’t suppose… just one… for a snack, you know?"

"GO!" Wiz roared, reaching for the pruning hook. Muttering to himself, the dragon leapt into the sky.

"Whhhoooooo," Wiz breathed and collapsed against the wall, using the pruning hook for a cane. He was immediately engulfed by the hysterically grateful Baggots, all of whom were laughing, crying and hugging him simultaneously. Since the entire family apparently enjoyed garlic as much as they disdained bathing, and since their idea of a thankful hug could snap the spine of an ox, Wiz was less appreciative than he might have been. In fact, by the time he got out the farmyard gate he was limping and holding his ribs.