Her Majesty's Wizard #1 by Christopher Stasheff Read Free Book Online

to know how to wish properly. And he'd better learn fast; Malingo might get impatient.
       How do you cast a spell?
       So far, from all indications, it was done by poetry-or verse, anyway. And Malingo's gestures seemed to have a place in it, too. Would Matt's beggar summons have worked if he hadn't adopted a Statue of Liberty pose?
       Matt took a deep breath. The next move was to experiment, validate the theory. Okay, he'd conjure up something-something safe, such as light. Only without a match at all, this time; he didn't need a bonfire.
       Then a happy thought struck him; instead of fire, why not call for a fire-lighter? Or a lamplighter, at least ... No, the way things worked here, he might wind up with a Victorian streetboy with a match on the end of along pole. He wanted a local; might as well get some information, as well as company.
       He felt the familiar gathering of force as he began to recite, but stronger now; much stronger.
       "It's light to which I do aspire; Send someone quick to light my fire! And long or short, by any name, So long as he's equipped with flame!'
       There was a shattering roar, and light seared Matt's eyes. He fell back against the wall, covering his face, while something huge and scaly rasped and grated against the stone walls. Fool! Matt's monitor-mind gibbered. When will you learn to be specific?
       The roaring slurred into words; heat seared Matt with syllables. "Who? Who hath done zhish to me? ... Thou!"
       Matt jerked his head up, staring. The light winked out, but the afterimage showed two burning eyes...
       Light came again, a five-foot gout of glaring flame, showing a mail-scaled snout with flaring nostrils over pointed teeth and huge, scaly-ridged eyes. "Thou! Vile dung-heaped hunter of hatchlings! What! Dursht summon a grown dragon to ambush?
       Temeritoush idiot! If thou dosht hope to drain Shtegoman's blood to shell to a shorsherer, thou'rt a fool, and will shoon be a dead one!"
       A gout of flame seared out again. Matt yelped and leaped aside just in time. The dragon took a breath like a bellows and lurched against the wall with a clash. "Where art thou, worm of a man? Thinkesht thou to hide from Shteo ... Shtegoman ... in sho shmall a shpace? Thou'lt ... thou'lt..."
       The flame suddenly seared out again, and Matt leaped. But he needn't have worried; the fire missed him by five feet as the dragon lurched to the side. The great eyes were filmed and bleary in the firelight.
       Then light snapped out like a strobe and, in the darkness, Matt realized. The fool beast is drunk! And getting drunker.
       But apparently he was the unpleasant type of boozer, the kind that gets mean in its cups; and he was taking another blast-furnace breath.
       "Hold it!" Matt snapped up a hand, palm out. "I'm innocent!"
       "Indeed?" the behemoth sneered. "Then thou art the firsht man to be sho, shince Adam. Wherefore didsht thou shummon me here, if not to drain dragon'zh blood?" The glowing eyes seemed to wince slightly.
       "Well ... curiosity! I was just doing research!"
       "Belike," Stegoman sneered. "And what wazh thish `reshearch?' Didsht thou sheek to dishcover the limitsh of a dragon'zh enduranshe? How mach pain I might withshtand? Nay!" The blowtorch spat again -- but it wavered this time, inscribing a zigzag of soot on the wall; and in the light, Matt definitely saw the dragon wince again, eyes almost squeezing shut with pain.
       Then it was dark once more, but Stegoman was inhaling. Delay! Matt thought frantically and called out, "What's the matter?"
       There was a moment of silence; then the slurred voice asked suspiciously, "Matter? What dosht thou shpeak of?"
       "Your pain!" It was an opening. Get him talking! Keep his mouth too busy to use for afire thrower! "I saw you wince. Does it hurt much?"
       "What conshem izh it of thine?"
       "Well, gee ... I just hate to see a fellow being in pain." Matt