I’m doing now.” She smiled. “The secret of good programming is that you
spend ninety percent of your time up front building tools and maybe ten
percent on the actual job-plus the other ninety percent of the time it
takes to debug everything, of course. Unlike most of the people I’ve
worked for, you were smart enough to stand back and let us spend the time
on the tools. So now . . .” again the shrug, “it’s easy.”
“You said you also wanted to discuss strategy. My guard commander tells me
your suggestions are, um, somewhat unorthodox.”
Judith smiled. “I’ll bet he did.”
“Well, he did put the matter-ah-somewhat more strongly.”
“I can understand that. But I know Craig and Craig’s a gamer.”
Judith rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Look, one of
the problems most gamers have is they spend too much time worrying about
hardware and not enough on C3-command, control and communications. If I
know Craig, he’s got some horrendously effective hardware. But he’s weak
on the things that will let him use it effectively.
“Now,” she went on judiciously, “we could try to match him on the
hardware. But we really can’t because he’s had longer to play with this
stuff and he has control of the Bubble World. So mostly we won’t bother.
Instead we’ll use pretty much the weapons and tactics your people already
know-plus the new magic-and we’ll primarily use technology to enhance the
C3. We may not be as powerful as he is, but we’ll be better coordinated.”
Bal-Simba grinned. “Excellent, Lady.” Then the grin faded. “But you have
laid your plans in terms of only one of our enemies, this Craig. What
about the other one? The one called Mikey?”
Judith’s frown matched the wizard’s. “I don’t know. So far we haven’t seen
anything that isn’t in Craig’s style. Either Mikey is just like Craig or
he’s up to something that hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Ah,” said the wizard Malus, “you sent for me, my Lord.”
Bal-Simba looked up from his desk and eyed his tubby little colleague.
“My Lord,” he inquired pleasantly, “have you ever flown on a dragon?”
Malus blinked. “A dragon, my Lord?”
“Yes. Have you ever flown on one?”
“Why, ah, no. No I haven’t. That is . . .”
“We need wizards with the dragon cavalry in the attack. You are among the
best qualified of the Mighty for the job.” Bal-Simba forbore to mention
that Malus’s main qualification was his weight. In spite of his girth, he
was the lightest of all the Mighty-save for Juvian, who suffered from an
airsickness no spell could cure.
Malus half-bowed, torn between honor and trepidation. “Well, thank you, my
Lord, but I mean, after all, a wizard on dragonback . . .”
“It is voluntary, of course,” Bal-Simba said blandly.
“Oh naturally I volunteer, but, ah, wouldn’t a levitation spell work just
as well?”
“Dragons do not like to have other flying things near them when they are
on the wing. Especially not something so unnatural as a flying wizard.”
Malus deflated like a cold souffle. “Oh.”
Bal-Simba beamed and clapped the smaller man on the shoulder. “Excellent.
Now, report to the Master of Dragons in the main aerie. He will see to
your training as a dragon rider. Later the Lady Judith will brief you on
tactics and teach you the new spells you will need.”
As the pudgy wizard bowed and turned toward the door he remembered that he
was deathly afraid of heights.
Judith pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face as she bent over the
map again. Her lower back ached from the time she had spent standing like
this and she was hoarse from talking all morning, but at last the plan
seemed to be coming together.
“Okay, that leaves the communications relay here.” She stabbed her finger
down on the three-dimensional map that occupied the whole table top. “If
we lose that we lose most of our ability to coordinate between the
attacking force and the Capital.”
Moira checked her stack of wooden tablets. “We have an entire squadron of
dragons assigned to protect it. They carry your new weapons. The squadron