Belphebe was hiding a smile, Shea realized—no doubt in admiration of Florimel's adroit handling of the situation. Shea gave her a hundred points for tact, himself. In fact, he thought she seemed almost relieved, and Shea found himself wondering if married people did benefit from occasional vacations from one another. He wasn't particularly anxious to find out personally, but he found the thought reassuring, just in case.
"Before you depart, though," Florimel reminded Chalmers, "there is a matter that really must be resolved."
"Hmm, yes." Chalmers frowned. "We have had a bit of an upset recently, Harold.
"An upset? What kind?" Shea saw a cloud on the horizon of his hopes.
"Just a niggling little matter," Chalmers said, "but one with which I should appreciate your help."
"Help? Sure!" Shea knew it was illogical, but he felt a glow of pride that Reed had asked him. "What is it? An evil baron? A flock of bandits? A plague of bats?"
"A hydra," Chalmers said. "It has been terrorizing the countryside for the last fortnight or so, and a messenger brought word of it just this morning, beseeching my assistance."
"Of course," said Florimel, "he could not refuse."
But she glanced at Chalmers anxiously, then back at her guests. "I am so glad that you have come!"
She included Belphebe in her gaze of gratitude. Shea could understand that—he was awfully glad for the company of his archer/wife, himself.
"Let us step into my workroom and pack such items as we may need, eh?" Chalmers rose.
"Sure!" Shea rose, too. "If you'll excuse us, ladies?"
"Certes, Sir Harold," Florimel said, and Belphebe looked up, amused. "Shall we wait dinner for you?
"Oh, come on! We won't be that long!"
"If you say so," Belphebe rejoined. "Naetheless, I have seen you 'talk shop,' as you put it, and waited whilst you did so."
Not entirely patiently, as Shea remembered it—but that was the hazard of going to faculty parties. "I won't be, this time," he promised. "See you soon, dear."
Fortunately, Belphebe and Florimel enjoyed each Other's company. They did not wait dinner, but they did insist the men join them for a late supper.
"Oh, well," Shea sighed as the door of the guest room closed behind them, "we needed a good night's sleep before we tackle that monster, anyway. Sony, dear."
"You may make it up to me," Belphebe said, looking up at him through long lashes.
As they rode through the forest toward the terrorized parish, Shea had plenty of time to regret his willingness, and to get a bit more information about the situation. "What's a hydra doing in medieval Europe, Doe?"
"I do not really know," Chalmers answered. "There are only rumors of its sudden appearance—but there is also mention of a sorcerer seen in its company."
"Oh." Shea frowned. "So an evil magician imported it from the universe of Greek mythology, eh?"
"That would be my conjecture," Chalmers agreed, "though as I say, I do not truly know."
The peasants were more than willing to direct them toward the hydra's lair, though they made it clear that they thought the two magicians were out of their minds.
"You, at least, should stay, lady," one brawny peasant objected.
"I have fought vile monsters, good man, and lived to tell the tale," Belphebe assured him. "But I thank you for your concern." She might have thanked him for the glint in his eye, too—but she certainly would not have welcomed his "protection."
They followed one set of directions after another, through an outcrop of woodland, up the slope to the top of a ridge—and found themselves looking down on a little meadow around a rocky outcrop. At the base of the rock was a cave, large enough for a small congregation.
Shea reined in, surveying the bones that lay about in front of the cave—deer, pig, and quite a few cattle. "I think we've found it."
"Then I shall prepare." Chalmers started to dismount.
"Wait," Belphebe suggested, stringing her bow. "Let us first knock, to see who is home." She drew an arrow from her quiver.
"I don't think that's the world's best ..." Shea began.
Belphebe drew the feathers back to her ear, and loosed.
The arrow shot into the cave mouth, struck against rock and ricocheted, then struck rock again, and again. A huge roar came out.
"Yes, it is home." She paled a little.
The hydra surged out of its cave—a snake as thick as a cask, three of its nine heads roaring fire, the other six coursing close to the ground in search of dinner, jaws gaping wide.
Shea reined in, face paling. "We've got to fight that?"
"Only with magic, of course." Chalmers dismounted and drew a small brazier, a tripod, and a miniature cauldron out of his saddlebag. "I have several new spells I'm rather anxious to test under field conditions. They will take some time to set up and activate, though, so if you could manage some defensive enchantments, Harold, I should very much appreciate it."
"We cannot wait," Belphebe said as she dismounted. "It has our scent."
Shea looked up, alarmed. Sure enough, the monster was moving toward them, one of its heads low and glaring at them.
Belphebe's bow thrummed, and a clothyard shaft sprouted in the cavernous nostril. The head fell to the ground, eyes glazing, but the other eight screamed in pain and rage, and the beast charged.
"The poor thing, to know such pain! Belphebe nocked another shaft. "Quickly, husband! We must put it out of its misery!"
"How about ours?" Shea drew his sword. "But I'll agree we have to be quick!"
Belphebe's bow thrummed again, and another arrow stabbed in at the base of one of the necks. The hydra shrieked in pain, but kept on coming.
"Around us a circle as round as a moon!" Shea shouted:
The hydra smacked into something unseen, a few yards from Shea and Belphebe—and Chalmers, who had a little fire going in the brazier, heating some sort of mixture in the little cauldron. The breeze wafted it toward the hydra, five of whose heads recoiled, offended.
A sixth reached over the unseen wall and down inside the circle, jaws gaping wide for Belphebe.
Shea shouted, leaped, and caromed into his wife, knocking her aside. The huge head slammed down into the ground right where she had been.
"Darling!" Shea cried, scrambling to his feet. "Are you ..."
The hydra roared with frustration, and the head hooked up toward him, jaws gaping.
Shea sprang back, anger at the monster surging Belphebe might be lying injured! He had to get rid of that head! He lunged up as it went past him, stabbing just below the jaw. Blood spurted, and the head screamed, whipping up and away, splashing the side of Shea's face. He shouted and leaped back, wiping frantically at the fluid; it burned! He wiped it clear with his sleeve, feeling a tingling in his forearm, but then- was no time to worry about that now. The head gone, he could see Belphebe climbing to her feet, and relief shot through him, followed by blood-lust—he had to kill the creature before it had a chance to hurt Belphebe again!
It gave him the opportunity, for though the wounded head hung back, thrashing, its neighbor struck down at Shea, jaws wide. He leaped aside, stabbing up with his sword. He missed the nose; the head swerved, tracking him, and the huge mouth came down all about him; his head filled with a charnel reek, but he managed to riposte and stab again, at the soft palate.
A shriek like that of a dozen steam engines filled his whole head, and the gaping maw lifted away from him abruptly, wrenching the sword-grip from his hand. Shea staggered back, senses reeling, and Belphebe's bowstring thrummed. The monster howled again, and Belphebe was beside Shea, her arm beneath his shoulders steadying him, while she cried, "Harold, are you hurt?"