Matt leaped to the side, yanking Alisande with him. "Watch it - he gets mean when he gets high. Back off, Stegoman! The lady was jumping to conclusions!"
The dragon paused on the intake, blinking blearily at Matt. "What shayesht thou?"
"A misunderstanding," Matt said quickly. "The lady could tell we'd met before. Can you blame her for thinking we were in cahoots?"
"Nay, truly! I see I was mistaken!" The princess cried. "You are, indeed, untamed and free, as all your people are!"
Stegoman cocked his head to the side, thinking that one over. While he was thinking, Matt slipped off his jacket and used it to beat out the brush fire Stegoman had accidentally touched off. He came back with his bargain-basement-best a bit charred, but with the fire out.
Alisande was cooing to an attentive Stegoman. "... nay, not one so strong and brave, with the power of giants and with naked beauty in the flow of polished scale o'er cabled muscles. You would not do so vile a thing as to attack an unarmed maiden!"
Her voice had a husky quality that touched off every ductless gland Matt owned. He pulled himself together and remembered his manners. "Your Highness, may I present Stegoman, a wanderer of the dragon people. Stegoman, her highness, the Princess Alisande."
The princess straightened, gathering dignity about her like an invisible robe, and inclined her head gravely. "Delighted am I with your acquaintance, Master Stegoman, though I could wish we'd met more formally."
Watching Stegoman, Matt preceived that royalty has its impact, even on a democrat. The dragon's eyes widened; then he bowed his head, plus at least three feet of neck. "Honored, Highness!" He turned to Matt. "So thou hast done it. Art thou more puissant than thou didst tell? Or hast thou but rash fool's luck?"
Matt was just opening his mouth to admit he'd been lucky, when Alisande gasped, "Oh!" He looked up at her, frowning; her hands were clapsed at her throat, and her eyes were wide with wonder. "Air, and trees, and sky! Sunlight, blessed sunlight! And water!" she cried, runing forward to look down into the brook. "Running, open water!" She fell to her knees and caught a palmful to her lips, drinking deeply.
Matt watched in admiration. So slender, so lithe, so graceful ... She fairly seemed to flow as she turned, rising to her feet again, and tossed her head, hair swirling back, forger stabbing out in imperious command. "Master Wizard, get you hence, I pray you; take your eyes away - and you also, good Master Stegoman! For I've not felt the blessed touch of water on my skin this half a year! If you please, I would bathe me!"
Matt bridled a little at the arrogance of her tone, but he couldn't very well refuse. "Uh-are you sure you'll be safe?"
"Come, come," Stegoman huffed, "let the lady be, good Wizard! We'll be close by; if trouble brews, we'll be within her call. Let the lady bathe! What monsters were her captors, to deprive her of the touch of water half a year!"
He waddled off toward the meadow. Matt could hardly be less of a gentleman than a lizard.
"Master Wizard!"
Matt looked back, startled. "Your Highness?"
"I loathe the thought of taking up again these rags!" The princess plucked at the remains of her dress. "Could you not conjure up some fitting raiment that hath not six months' filth about it?"
"Uh ... yeah, sure." Matt bobbed his head, feeling extremely awkward. "Sure thing, your Highness."
"I'll thank you with each breath I breathe!" she cried and whirled away behind a thorn bush.
Matt reflected that the girl was somewhat given to hyperbole. Then he imagined how a shirt that had been worn, day and night for six months, would feel each time he breathed and decided that maybe she hadn't been exaggerating, after all.
"So! Thou art truly a wizard, it seems!"
Matt looked up, surprised. Was that a note of respect in Stegoman's voice? "Not really - no more than I was the last time you saw me. I haven't learned anything new, anyway."
"Then thou hadst more knowledge than thou didst know," the dragon stated. "How didst thou break Malingo's magic bond around the princess' prison? For that must have been the fiercest and most puissant spell he knew!"
Matt felt suddenly weak at the thought of having crossed spells with Malingo, even at second hand. "Well, I really didn't do anything much. I just recited a bit of poetry I happened to know, and here we are."
"Thou hadst no notion of the powers thou didst challenge?"
"Oh ... I wouldn't say that." Matt remembered the heat, the feeling of being inside a dynamo. "But what else could I do?"
"Aye, I was quite confident thou wouldst play rash fool and take the risk." The dragon eyed him, brooding. "Yet thou art here; his spell is broken. I must think, then, thou didst work a spell unknown."
"Unknown to Malingo, you mean?" Matt pursed his lips, thinking it over. "Yeah, quite probably, now that you mention it. All the poetry I have in my head is old stuff, where I come from; but it would probably be brand new, here."
Stegoman seemed to shy away a little. "A new spell! 'Tis strange, and vastly dangerous!"
Matt stopped, rooted to the spot. Now Stegoman had his full attention. "Oh! Do tell!"
"I do indeed. Magic is elusive; it hath no principles, no rules of trade. It is an art, but one whose power shows in moments. Therefore good wizards cull old books for practiced but forgotten spells; all their world is a searching through of musty manuscripts. Their end-all and their be-all is in learning. 'Tis the search that they enjoy, the finding of old knowledge, new to them. They care little for its use."
"True scholars," Matt said thoughtfully. "They wouldn't happen to be on the scarce side; would they?"
"Extremely rare. But sorcerers sprout from every bush."
Matt looked up, frowning. "Sorcery is easier to learn?"
"Aye; ye've but to find a grimoire. And they never seem in short supply. I believe the powers of Darkness see to that."
Matt had a brief, dizzying vision of a rotary press churning furiously in the bowels of Hell. "That's all Malingo did? Just memorized a book?"
"One book, or two - it matters not. He will not take much time in seeking out new spells, unless he's challenged by a stronger; his tine is fully occupied in gathering wealth and seeking out new enemies, before they garner power enough to challenge him. And ever and anon, he plucks some victim for the torture, to amuse his idle hours. But thus it is with sorcerers; they see their Power only as a means of gaining their desires. They will not take the time to seek new spells."
"And all the wizards do is research." Matt scowled, shaking his head. "It doesn't fit. Someone has to think up a new spell now and then-or there'd never be any change in the power structure!"
Stegoman regarded him quizzically. "A strange thought, that. Yet thou hast the way of it aright; each century or so, a man appears who doth work out a spell anew. Yet from all that I hear, the forging of new spells is like the walking on a knife's edge, o'er a pit of flames and vipers mixed."
"You use such picturesque similes." Matt swallowed thickly as he realized he'd been running just the risk Stegoman described every time he'd worked a spell-for, by local standards, all his spells were new. More to the point, he didn't know any of the old ones. Remembering the buildup of forces on his escape from Malingo's prison, he could easily believe what Stegoman had said; it wasn't hard to imagine that force shorting through him, leaving a charred and reeking husk ... He shuddered and put the thought behind him. "If a guy let himself think about that, he'd very quickly lose his taste for magic."
"He would indeed," the dragon said. "Yet thou no longer hast the choice."
"What? Hey, hold on!" Matt's head snapped up. "I'm a free agent here, I'll do, or not do, as I please!"
"Assuredly," Stegoman agreed drily. "And I'm certain Malingo will respect thy freedom."