B.U.M.P. in the Knight
THE PRINCE RODE through the dark woods, his mind filled with thoughts of war. He was newly come to his majority and touchy about it. His father's highest-ranking men and most powerful knights refused to forget that he'd once been a grubby-faced child who'd sucked his thumb and ridden on their shoulders. Now the king was ailing and much as it pained the lad to think of his father's death, he had to accept that it was only a matter of time before he ascended the throne.
And then what? Would the crown's golden touch be enough to force the knights and nobles to respect him, to do so sincerely? Or would they continue to see him as a child playing at being king?
He wouldn't stand for that. For his pride's sake—and perhaps for his kingdom's sake, just a bit—he could not allow that to happen. If he was going to be an effective ruler, they must take him seriously!
Few things were more serious than war. His royal father's words echoed through his mind: Once you've led men in battle, once they've seen you cut down your enemies, once there's blood on your sword, everything changes. War is not a business for boys. You cannot go to war and be taken for anything less than a man!
Very well, then: there would be war. He had several possible quarrels to pick, old grudges to whip up into new conflicts. It wouldn't have to be a big war, or even a glorious triumph. Either a real win or a defeat that could be claimed as a moral victory would do. As long as he had the proper stage for proving his manhood and managed to live through the slash-stab-burn-pierce-y parts, he'd be satisfied.
Even though his father still lived, the prince already had broached the subject of war casually to a couple of his closest friends. These two young knights were all for it. They faunched after an opportunity to show their parents' generation that they too could climb the heights of fame on a stairway—or at least a step-stool—of other men's corpses.
They both became so eager for this glowing future of infinite (albeit gore-soaked) possibilities that they couldn't help blabbing about it to the castle wenches who shared their beds. These willing women enjoyed a healthy romp well enough, but took even more pleasure in gossiping about their impromptu amours afterward. Gossip lasted longer than many a fledgling lover. It reproduced and spread faster than lice while enhancing the carrier's popularity.
The prince had no idea that his meditations on combat and conquest to come had reached many, many ears. Some of those folk who heard, smiled to know that their king-to-be was so brave. Some wept, knowing that their sons would bleed to pay for the prince's bravery.
And one listened attentively, wrote a brief note, tied it to a dove's leg, and released the messenger bird to the heavens. Then she waited.
Innocent of all this, the prince rode on, pondering his pending choice of enemy, tactics, and which words to engrave in a circle around his noble profile on the medal he'd award to the more outstanding survivors, once the dust cleared.
Abruptly, from somewhere well within his hearing, a maiden screamed.
The prince reined his steed to a halt and pricked up his ears. His attentiveness was rewarded by a second scream accompanied by a dreadful roar. The breeze brought his nostrils the scent of burning. He drew his sword, kicked his horse into a gallop, and charged toward the scream, the roar, and the fire.
Right on time.
THE EXTRICATION OF an agent is never easy. Too bad that sometimes the agent herself makes it harder than it has to be. Every member in my branch of the Union knows this, but it's only the old hands who also know the best tricks for dealing with the foolish, the idealistic, the stubborn, and the ones who've just plain bitten the apple and bought into the illusion that they created in the first place.
Andromeda was one such apple-biter. I sighed deeply when the chief came to see me about handling her case. I didn't want to accept the assignment, not by a long shot, and I didn't have any qualms about telling the chief so, rather hotly.
Maybe a little too hotly. The chief brushed a scattering of ashes from her long black hair as casually as if my fiery breath hadn't come within a handspan of frizzling her bald-headed. It was a narrow escape for us both. There are many words to describe those who make Medea angry. They are all synonyms for dead.
"Look, I understand why you're reluctant to intervene, Cetus," she said. "I read the girl's file: You're not just B.U.M.P.'s best team; you two have a history."
"History my butt," I countered. "We've got us a bloody epic!"
"Please don't exaggerate. Not every myth is an epic, and shouting about it does more harm than good." The chief spoke softly, but I could tell she was peeved. Hard not to be, with a fresh layer of pale gray dust now settling thick over her head and shoulders like a fluffy hood. This time she left it where it fell, a silent reproof for me to control myself. Or else was implied.
"Sorry," I muttered, lowering my eyes.
Her hand caressed my armored cheek and she followed it with a there-there kiss, its touch cool and soothing and not to be trusted. "It's all right, Cetus," she said. "I doubt you could help yourself. She was your first princess, wasn't she?"
Her gentle words pierced me more deeply than any hero's sword. "My first—My first and my only one, until I joined up here." Because she brought me in, I thought. "It was different, back then. We were different."
"I suppose it was. You must have some very pretty memories of her, so lovely, so vulnerable, just the way all monsters like their maidens. I understand, my dear." Our chief could be a charmer when she fancied; a charmer in every sense of the word. "But our problem is how she's acting now. It sets a bad precedent. Everything we've struggled for, all we've built up, it's as fragile as it's wonderful. Peace always is. No one in the Union wants to see our hard work destroyed. That's why I need you to fix this. If I send one of the others, they might be too eager to cut straight to the quick-and-dirty."
"They'd kill her," I said, under my breath. Two trails of sulfurous steam escaped my nostrils. My wings quivered with poorly suppressed rage. I knew the chief was right: None of the other agents would give Andromeda a chance to realize she'd made a mistake or the opportunity to back away from it. Persuasion takes time and delicacy. We monsters have plenty of the former, but the latter? Not a quality you need to cultivate when you're bigger than a house and can breathe fire. My colleagues would just dispose of Andromeda, claiming they didn't have any other options. And who was going to call them liars? Not her. Certainly not after they'd reduced her to a poor, pitiful, smoldering pile of blackened bones.
I couldn't let that happen.
I lurched to my feet so suddenly that the chief was thrown backwards. Her rump hit the stone floor of my cavern. She could shake off an accidental ashing but not an unexpected pratfall. She leaped back up at once, glowering, ready to avenge the insult to her dignity. Her hair fanned out in a starburst of fury, crackling with raw sorcery. The flimsy layer of civilized self-control she'd nurtured over the millennia vanished in a blaze of her old, barbaric wrath. For a moment, she looked ready to annihilate me.
So I apologized again, in a hurry. My life wasn't much, but I liked it, and I had nothing more. In all my centuries I'd yet to meet up with a faith whose priests proclaimed that dragons had any place in the afterlife.
My groveling did the trick. Medea's anger subsided as swiftly as it had risen.
"Never mind, dear," she said in a mild voice, daintily shaking dirt from her dress. "I'm sure you didn't mean to do that. Now let's get you briefed and out of here. You have work to do and three days in which to do it."
"Three?"
"Too little time?" she asked with an arch look. She knew it was more than I'd hoped for.
"No, no, not at all, just point me at the right kingdom and send me on my way!"
"Such zeal. I'm pleased. Our errant princess is enjoying the delights of royal matrimony here." Her hands described the contours of a sphere. Empty air became a shining orb filled with dancing ribbons of light and shadow. These wove themselves into more distinct, recognizable images. I gazed closely as the waves of a wintry sea gave birth to a towering cliff with a modest castle crowning the precipice. I knew the place at once. I'd swum the world's oceans in my youth and when maturity gave me wings I'd flown over countless lands. It was these travels, paired with my flawless memory, that let me identify Andromeda's new home on sight.
"That's the stronghold of Belencant," I said. "But it's leagues from where he rescued her! Was that scrawny princeling really so far-ranging? Or was he just a lucky bum who stumbled across a quick way to make his reputation?"
Medea chuckled. "You know better than that. Our targets are always young kings-to-be, not their kingdoms. It doesn't matter where we intercept them, whether near or far from home, as long as we make sure their paths and ours do cross. You can't deal with a threat that doesn't show up to be neutralized. So! Are you ready to go?"
I nodded.
"Then I release you."
THE TROUBLE WITH being a dragon is that you are built for shock and devastation, not stealth. Even when I was a young, aquatic monster, I couldn't sneak up on anything. (Luckily I was swift enough to overtake prey without the need for a subtle approach.) Time, metamorphosis, and the regular meals that were part of B.U.M.P. membership only added to the problem.
Size matters. Size also means I had to travel to Belencant by night or risk being seen. When humans spy a dragon, everything goes all higgledy-piggledy. Cowherds panic and start driving their stock to shelter, never mind if the spooked beasts go over a cliff or trample half the village's crops en route. Children are snatched screaming from the streets only to make repeated breaks from the haven of home in order to catch sight of a genuine fire-wyrm. Alas, this often leads to them being run over by the aforementioned cattle. Sly young men make haste to tell credulous girls that dragons only devour virgins and before you know it, every haystack in sight is a thrashing explosion of straw with a line of impatient swains and nervously giggling lasses waiting their turn. Dogs fly into a frenzy of joyful barking, eager to be part of the general hoopla. Chickens riot on general principle.
And every so often, there'll be a local nobleman in possession of a crossbow who decides to make a name for himself by shooting a monster. His attempts never succeed—not so long as arrowheads shatter against scales—but I've heard of too many cases where errant shafts struck innocent folk by accident.
Medea founded B.U.M.P.—the Benevolent Union of Monsters and Princesses—for the purpose of saving lives, not wasting them. If I were ever the cause of a human's death, however inadvertently, the shame would be too much to bear.
So why was I thinking about all the ways I might destroy Andromeda's prince? I don't know. Love and logic go together like eels and marzipan.
Therefore, to avert disaster, I flew to Andromeda's castle under cover of darkness, hoping that the light of a waning crescent moon was too faint to betray me. I swooped in from the seaward side, avoiding the town that slept at the base of the castle road. Luck granted me a cave among the kelp-covered rocks. I claimed it as my base of operations, settled down on the wet shingle, closed my eyes, and concentrated.
Shape-changing is a tricky business. In youth, our bodies are the playthings of forces that remake us without our consent, sometimes without our awareness until after the deed is done. I did not control the transformation from living as a sea monster to what I am now. It overtook me while I still lay pent up in the stone prison thrown over me by the dead Gorgon's gaze. But when did I first realize I still retained that metamorphic power and could call it up at my pleasure? I couldn't say.
Fact matters more than theory. What's important is that I mastered the force that first altered me: I had the power to shape-shift at will. A lot of will, so it's not the sort of thing I do lightly. The effect is temporary but convenient. A dragon can't enter a castle discreetly; a cat can. Dwindling my size was the hardest part, leaving me without much power to refine the niceties of my appearance.
"God save me, that's the ugliest damn cat I've ever seen!" a castle guard exclaimed as I came padding up to the gate. He stooped to pick up a stone. "Go on, get out of here, you freak!"
He lobbed the rock at me. I calmly opened my mouth and with one thin blast of flame shattered it into a pattering rain of pebbles. It was amusing to watch the play of emotions across the guardsman's face: Did I see that? But it's impossible! Does that mean I'm insane? They tether madmen in dungeons 'til they die. No, no, I'm not crazy, I can't be, that didn't happen, it was only a trick of the light. Thank God!
By the time he'd readjusted his senses to suit his safety I was through the gate and well inside the castle. Most of the household slept, and those who waked were too preoccupied with business of their own to bother over a cat. Andromeda's trail was easy to trace. I knew her scent as well as I knew my own.
"Cetus, what are you doing here?" Her familiar voice hissed through the stony corridor on a sharp whisper's wings. I nearly jumped out of my fur, taken wholly by surprise, tracker become target.
"How did you do that, woman?" I demanded, trumping up anger to cover my embarrassment. "When did the chief give you the power to see in the dark?"
"Medea never gives anything. You may look like a cat, but you smell like a pile of dead fish," she replied with a mischievous smile. "Once a sea monster, always a sea monster."
"And proud of it, even though it's not true." I peered down the hallway, spotting the door from which she'd probably emerged to pounce on me. "Is that your room?"
"Yes."
"Are you sleeping there alone tonight? We need to speak privately."
Her smile faded. "So this isn't a friendly visit. When did things change between us so deeply that it takes an assignment to bring you to me?"
Her words shamed me. "I meant to come, but you know how difficult it is for me to travel without causing trouble along the way. And to be frank, I thought we'd be able to catch up on things when you were done here and returned to headquarters." I gave her an accusatory stare. "I didn't expect to wait so long for your homecoming."
She met my glare with one that would have done Medusa proud. Without another word, she marched into her room, leaving me to trot after. Once she had the door shut and latched, she spoke again:
"This is my home now. I love Paladio. I'm staying."
"Paladio?" I repeated with an ungovernable dollop of sarcasm. "There's a name! What were his parents thinking? Rather a heavy load of pomposity to dump on that scrap of a princeling. The scrawny pup could barely lift his sword, let alone swing it at me. Ah gods, I truly earned my keep for the job of acting I did that day! 'Have mercy, great warrior! Spare my wretched life and I will release the princess at once! Your martial skill and valiant heart have defeated—'"
Andromeda ended my snide declamation by dumping the contents of her gilded washbasin on my head. I hissed and sputtered and yowled like any ordinary cat, then blew sparks out of my nose and demanded: "Why did you do that?"
"You were being a cess-pit. Count yourself lucky I didn't upend my chamber pot on you. I don't care how low your opinion of my husband is. The only one that matters is mine, and I'm telling you he's a sweet boy, unlike those other puffed-up 'heroes' I handled in the past. I never had a moment's hesitation about leaving any of them. Faking my own death was always a pleasure."
I shook my soaked fur violently. "Stay with your prince now and you won't need to fake your death. You have two choices: Come back like a good little princess, accept your next B.U.M.P. assignment, and get on with your life, or . . . lose it."
"And I suppose you'll kill me if I say no?" Andromeda didn't look worried by that possibility. She'd always been a cool customer. I remembered our first encounter: I surged out of the waves and there she was, a beautiful maiden chained to a rock, facing death-by-sea-monster with as much calm as if she were awaiting the delivery of a fruit basket. Her aplomb startled me so badly that I didn't notice the swift descent of Perseus until he swung Medusa's head before my eyes. Even as the Gorgon's petrifying spell raced over my body, sealing me in a granite chrysalis, my sole regret was that I'd never had the chance to ask that brave and lovely girl her name.
How long did I spend in stone-surrounded sleep? I had no idea. One day the rock enclosing me burst into splinters and I was free. The first thing I saw was Andromeda's face, still with that same serene smile and for an instant I believed I'd spent only a few heartbeats in captivity. Then she spoke and my illusions shattered as completely as my prison: "My, haven't you changed! But I suppose a few thousand years will do that to anyone."
A few thousand—
Stunned, I was only partially aware of her soothing voice as she coaxed me to creep out of the rubble, stretch taloned paws that had lost their webbing, and spread the surprise of mighty wings. When I gasped in amazement, she barely dodged my first gust of fiery breath, then laughed about her brush with flaming death.
"Be just a bit more careful," she said. "We're long-lived, not immortal and certainly not invulnerable, you and I and the rest of us." She patted my still-steaming snout. Her cool gallantry won my heart. In that moment, I realized I loved her.
Today—tonight—I had the chance to prove it.
"I won't kill you." My voice went husky as I added: "I could never do that. But if you don't return for your next assignment, the chief will send someone else to finish where I failed."
Her expression became grim. She folded her hands over her belly. "Then all Belencant will fight him when he comes for me. Paladio commands many warriors. They'll be more than a match for one monster, especially when my prince tells them they're defending this kingdom's unborn heir."
So that was it. How had I not suspected? I peered at her belly, but it was not yet big enough to declare her condition to the world.
I shook my head. "What makes you think that a single battle will end it? It's bad enough you're defying one of B.U.M.P.s key rules—get in, get rescued, get out—but if you take that route—blatant rebellion—you're defying Medea. Medea! Rile her and you'll learn the meaning of overkill, you and your prince and your baby and this entire realm!"
"Medea? That hypocrite," Andromeda said. "She founded B.U.M.P. to put an end to useless wars, yet she'd destroy a kingdom rather than let me go. She claims she loves peace, but you and I both know her first, best, greatest love is getting her own way. What do you think my fellow agents will do once they hear of such goings-on? We all joined her to serve the cause of pre-emptive peace: me, Ariadne, Hesione, Olimpia, Angelica, Kushi-Inada-Hime, and every other princess ever rescued from a monster's jaws. They'll desert her before you can say 'Eek, a dragon!'"
"And we all know how well Medea handles abandonment," I murmured. The former princess of Colchis loved the Greek adventurer Jason so madly that she sacrificed her whole family on his account. She used her sorcerous powers to help him steal the fabled Golden Fleece from her father. She compounded her crime by chopping her brother to bits and scattering these in the wake of their fleeing ship, forcing the king to cease pursuit in order to gather the remains of his slaughtered son.
When a lady commits theft, treason, and murder for her lover, you'd think his gratitude would last. Not Jason's, and in spite of their two children he pledged himself to wed a more civilized princess. That girl's father, Creon of Thebes, told the deserted sorceress to get out of town.
And so she did, but not before destroying her rival with a poisoned robe and crown that seared the foolish girl's flesh from her bones. (Seriously, that poor child was too stupid to live: "Oh look, a gift from a known sorceress! I'm marrying the father of her children and Daddy just exiled her, but why wouldn't she want to celebrate my wedding? This isn't the least bit suspicious. I'll put it on right away.") Medea fled in a dragon-drawn chariot, but not before killing her own children, just to teach Jason the price of desertion.
Andromeda knew the chief's history as well as I did. I saw her dreams of outright mutiny drain away before my eyes. Her hands laced themselves even more tightly over her expected child and her eyes grew bright with tears.
"If—if I do obey her," she faltered. "If I do deceive my prince by faking my death here, the same as always, and come back with you, what do you think she'll do when she finds out that I'm…—?" She didn't have the heart to finish. She knew the answer: Where Medea was concerned, nothing must stand in the way of B.U.M.P.'s great and glorious mission of peace. She hadn't hesitated when it came to killing her own children.
My past swam up to meet me again that night, a pool of memories into which my cat-self dipped a paw. The ripples flowed into the image of the hidden palace where Andromeda took me to meet Medea.
"Welcome, Cetus," the Colchian woman said. "I'm pleased to see that my visions didn't lie. Your centuries in stone have changed you nicely, little polliwog. You're a magnificent dragon. B.U.M.P. needs more like you if our mission is going to succeed."
"Bump?" Naturally I heard it as the ordinary word.
"The Benevolent Union of Monster and Princesses," Medea clarified. "My organization; your future."
I was about to say, What if I choose a different future? but she was already weaving a spell of words that held me as immobile as Medusa's dead-eyed gaze.
"I've lived a long time, Cetus," she said. "Long enough to grow tired of men and their wars, so I've started one of my own, a war against war itself. Some wars will happen, but too many take place for no other reason than some untried princeling or newly crowned kinglet is eager to claim the name of hero. Those horrid little boys can't wait to drink manhood from a goblet of blood and fire." She smiled. "B.U.M.P. exists to stop that."
"How?" I asked. "Do you want me to kill those royal troublemakers?"
That made her laugh. "All of them? I like your spirit, monster, but kill one fame-hungry prince and he's succeeded by another. And that next royal sprat might be twice as keen to prove his mettle by drumming up a war." A cool smirk lifted the corners of her mouth. "I don't want to end their lives: I want to end their dreams. And what better way to do that than to serve them up all the glory they can stomach on a silver platter?"
The mad Colchian sorceress went on to describe the simple, elegant, effective method she'd perfected for thwarting princes hungry for a hero's name: "There is glory in war, but it's glory that a ruler must share with his knights and nobles. On the other hand, killing a monster and saving the beautiful princess he's about to devour is a one-man business. One man? One champion! One magnificent, celebrated, superb legend of a man! One smug, self-satisfied man who can then go home with no need to find excuses for sparking another needless battle. The awe and adulation for such a feat is his, his alone! He can enjoy his new-made reputation as a monster-slayer unquestioned until his dying day."
I tilted my head, fascinated. "And what about the princess?"
"Oh, he gets to enjoy her, too—" Her smirk widened. "—for a while. Not above a month, usually. Then she finds a way to feign death by illness or to make it appear she's suffered a fatal accident—an unwitnessed one—and then she's back here for her next assignment. Well, Cetus? Will you join us?"
"You expect me to volunteer for being slain? Medusa's gaze turned my body to stone, not my brain."
"Do you think me a spendthrift? Dragons are not easy to come by, cooperative ones even less so. I never waste resources: None of my monsters ever sets off on a mission until I've swathed him in spells. The instant that a prince's weapon comes close to you, an enchantment robs him of the ability to judge distance. A second creates the false impression that his wild sword thrusts are hitting the mark, making you bleed. (Don't forget to roar in pain and rage when that happens.) And at last, your death! You collapse dramatically and my magic creates the magnificent illusion of your internal fires bursting from your belly, reducing your whole body to ashes."
"Why do that?"
"To prevent some trophy-mad prince from cutting off your head for a souvenir."
"Oh." I considered her words. "It does sound safe enough."
"Safe and entertaining. Now that you're back in the waking world, you'll find that a dragon's life is only as interesting as you make it. Becoming part of B.U.M.P. will give you something to do besides growl and prowl and wallow on a pile of treasure. Wouldn't you rather have a purpose for living through the centuries ahead?"
Before I could answer, I felt a small hand pat my flank. I turned to meet Andromeda's encouraging smile. "Do join us, Cetus," she said. "It would be fun, you and I working together."
"Not always, though." Medea held up one hand. "If the same dragon is seen too often in company with the same princess, the mortals might begin to suspect that something smells fishy."
"Besides Cetus," Andromeda put in with a fetching smile. She stroked my scales again. "There now, I'm only joking. I'd love nothing more than being able to work with you."
"That's odd, given that I was supposed to devour you at our first meeting," I remarked.
Her laughter held its own magic. "I've never blamed you for that. My mother bragged that I was more beautiful than Poseidon's daughters, so he sent you to punish her pride by insisting she sacrifice me. He could have done something reasonable, like demand an apology or turn everything she touched into week-old anchovies, but no. Let's work together, since we're no longer the sea god's tools! We can't change the whole world, but at least we can do some good now that we're free."
"Except we're not free," I muttered, breaking away from my memories. Suddenly I knew how they felt, all the non-B.U.M.P. princesses who'd ever been held captive by dragons: the helplessness; the desperate mental search for some way to save themselves; the chill realization that there wasn't always a prince around when you needed one, that death seemed inevitable; last of all, the greater horror, that even if a prince did come to their rescue, they'd be forever in his debt, obliged to do his will whether or not it was their own desire.
It was a terrible thing, to be a dragon's captive. It was far worse to be saved. What price would be too high to pay if it meant you could escape—escape—
"By my fire!" Thunderstruck by inspiration, I sank my kittycat claws into Andromeda's ankle without thinking. "I've got it. I've got it!"
Andromeda yelped so loudly from the unexpected pain that within moments we heard the pelting of swift feet in the corridor outside her room. The door flung open and Prince Paladio was upon us. He hastened to stand behind Andromeda and grasped her shoulders with tender care.
"Darling, are you all right? What happened? Is the baby—"
Strange, how quickly those simple, caring words of his touched me to the core. He loves her, I thought. He truly does, and not just because she's carrying his heir.
"Good evening, Your Highness," I said affably.
He greeted the spectacle of a talking cat as one might expect, with shock and a wide-eyed whisper of "Sorcery!" Despite his apparent terror, he did not bolt. He would fight through his fears for her sake, standing steadfast to protect her. I decided I could like him after all.
So Andromeda laughed and kissed him and calmed him down enough to pay heed to what I had to say. He took the news well that I was actually a dragon and not a talking cat, probably because he'd dealt with dragons. I did my best to hide my amusement at his crestfallen expression when we explained about B.U.M.P.
He gazed at Andromeda sadly. "So when I rescued you from that dragon, none of it was real? I'm not a hero after all?" He sounded pathetic enough to move a harpy's tiny peach-pit heart to pity.
Andromeda kissed him again. "You're my hero," she said. "You didn't need to slay anything to win that name."
"However—" I raised one paw. "—if you would like a second chance at rescuing your princess, I think I can provide us all with a happy ending."
Paladio's expression turned attentive, serious, and—dare I say it?—all grown up. "Go on," he said. "I'm listening."
The following morning, a messenger rode forth to a nearby kingdom where a young prince of Paladio's acquaintance was contemplating where to initiate the war that would secure his reputation as a ruler worthy of his nobles' respect. I could not attest to the contents of that message—a bid to discuss trade agreements? The promise of a boar hunt? An invitation to tea? I only knew it was sufficient to lure the royal sprat out of his castle and down the road to Belencant where, in the midst of a darkling forest of aspect grim and drear—
"HELP! HELP! A dragon! Save me!"
The monster's defenseless victim cringed before gusts of fiery breath and knew the icy certainty of inescapable death. What use the brave resolution not to cry, to meet one's doom with dignity? It was hard to keep your dignity when staring down a dragon's glowing gullet, past deadly fangs that were each longer than the most far-famed of heroes' swords.
Hard? Impossible. Tears streamed freely, sobs punctuated hoarse cries for rescue that would never come.
Ah! Or would it? For just then a voice of heaven-sent salvation resounded from beyond the pall of smoke shrouding the scene: "Fear not! I am here!"
As the dragon's captive watched breathlessly, a glittering blade danced in graceful, deadly combat with the beast. The creature's roars of outrage soon turned to shrieks of fear and pain as it was beaten back, back, until finally the death-blow fell. The dragon let loose one last roar, tumbled onto its side and lay still.
"It's over." A small, comforting hand rested on the broad shoulder of the dragon's erstwhile prey. "Are you all right?"
"I—I think I am." The prince touched his head as though making sure it was still there. "Thank you. I owe you my life, Sir—Sir?"
His hero removed her helmet, setting free a cascade of glossy black hair. "Andromeda of Belencant," she said. "I think you know my husband?"
The prince goggled. "You're a girl!"
Andromeda smiled. "So I'm told. Shall we proceed to the castle? I can't wait to tell the court all about this, especially our bard."
"A bard? Dear heavens, no! You can't! You mustn't!" the prince cried. "If word gets out that I was rescued from a dragon by a girl, I'll be ruined! And if a bard hears about it, you know the story will spread faster than the plague. Please, my lady, I'm begging you—"
"Don't beg." Her dimples deepened. "Pay." Seeing his confusion, she added: "For my silence."
"Pay for—? Yes, of course, anything." The prince was one frayed nerve away from babbling. "Name your price! Gold? Jewels? Land?"
"War," said Andromeda. His blank expression moved her to elaborate: "The war you want to start as soon as you're crowned king. Don't look at me like that: I know your kind very well. Don't start your war and I won't start my bard."
"Yes, but—"
"Now if some other fool attacks your realm, feel free to fight back. I want you to be sensible, not defenseless."
"Yes, but—"
"And don't worry about making a name for yourself. You're a clever man; you can find a better way to achieve fame."
"Yes, but—"
Andromeda sighed. "Listen, it's very simple: Don't try to make your reputation based on war unless you want me to unmake it by letting all the world know that you were rescued from a dragon by a princess."
"You—you can't prove it happened!" Driven to the last ditch, the prince tried to bluster his way out of his mortifying position. "If you breathe one word—" He reached for his sword.
The lady did not flinch. "My dear, I just slew a dragon. How do you think you'll fare, fighting me?"
The prince paused in his foolish course, swallowed hard, and let his sword stay in its scabbard.
"I see we have a bargain," Andromeda said sweetly.
MEDEA WAS ENCHANTED by the new system. Turning princes into prey held a certain appeal for her. No doubt she was picturing her faithless lover, Jason, in a dragon's clutches. In gratitude, she granted Andromeda full amnesty, and the freedom to return to active B.U.M.P. duty whenever she wished, or not at all.
"If her new system works as well as I think it will, our dragons can continue faking their own deaths as usual but our princesses won't have to waste time playing the grateful prize," she said. "They can come back for their next assignments in a matter of days, not months or years. I'll have more than enough agents on hand; I can spare one."
"Your graciousness is exceeded only by your wisdom," I murmured.
"And your ability to speak fluent horse manure is exceeded only by your talent for overstaying your welcome." Medea smiled. "Now run along and tell Andromeda the good news."
I hadn't far to run: my princess was waiting for me on the path just beyond the stronghold gates. "Well?" she asked anxiously. "What did she say?"
"You fight like a girl." I grinned. "And you win."
THE PRINCE RODE through the dark wood, his mind filled with thoughts of war.
Little did he know.
Nebula Award winner Esther Friesner is the author of over 40 novels and almost 200 short stories. She is also a poet, a playwright, and the editor of several anthologies. The best known of these is the Chicks in Chainmail series that she created and edits for Baen Books. The sixth book, Chicks and Balances, appeared in July 2015. Deception's Pawn, the latest title in her popular Princesses of Myth series of Young Adult novels from Random House, was published in April 2015.
Esther is married, a mother of two, grandmother of one, harbors cats, and lives in Connecticut. She has a fondness for bittersweet chocolate, graphic novels, manga, travel, and jewelry. There is no truth to the rumor that her family motto is "Oooooh, SHINY!"
Her super-power is the ability to winnow her bookshelves without whining about it. Much.