Up In A Heaval Read Free Page A

did his bottom stop smarting, it suddenly felt great. He had gotten a bit tired from the constant bending and pressing on the fork; now his energy had been restored. It truly was healing elixir.
    But the mystery remained: How had what he needed been so providently presented to him—by the action of a dragon? Umlaut did not have a lot of belief in coincidences, at least not favorable ones. Normally they just got him into deeper trouble.
    Could the dragon have done it intentionally? That seemed incredible, but added to the fact that the creature had not attacked when it could have, it was a possibility. “Did you do that on purpose?” he inquired.
    The huge head nodded.
    Still, that was not absolute proof. “Are you going to gobble me up as soon as I turn my back on you?'”
    The snout moved sidewise in a ponderous no gesture.
    This was becoming more interesting. “Do you understand my words?”
    The head nodded.
    “What is two plus one?”
    The head bobbed three times.
    “You're intelligent!” Umlaut exclaimed.
    The dragon hesitated.
    “For an animal,” Umlaut amended.
    The head nodded.
    “So you understand me and mean me no harm?”
    Another nod.
    “Well, that's fine, because I have come here to muck out your stall. Do you happen to know where I can dump the stuff?”
    The dragon turned and slithered away. Umlaut hesitated, then decided that it was best to trust the creature, since he could not get the job done otherwise. He followed.
    The dragon led him to a large chamber with a hole in the floor.
    “An oubliette!” Umlaut said. “Dump it down there?”
    The dragon nodded.
    “But there's a lot of this stuff. Won't it eventually fill up the oubliette?”
    The head shook no.
    “Magic? Or fast composting?”
    That seemed to be the case. At any rate, the dragon nodded.
    “Well, I'd better get started,” Umlaut said. “I think I'll need more than a fork, though.”
    The dragon slithered to another chamber, leading him to a two-wheeled cart. That would help.
    Umlaut worked. Soon he forgot how he had come here and just focused on the job. It did need to be done, and no one else was here to do it. He started with the chambers closest to the oubliette and worked slowly outward.
    Then the dragon nudged him. Umlaut jumped; he had almost forgotten the creature's presence, though the dragon was obviously the source of all this manure. “Something wrong?” he asked.
    The dragon made a sidewise motion with its snout, then slithered away. Umlaut followed. They went to the foot of the stairs. Breanna of the Black Wave stood there, holding a burning torch. “I think there's been a mistake,” she said. “We don't have any record of a zombie girl of your description, and the zombies don't know you.” She raised the torch. “In fact you don't look like a zombie at all— or a girl.”
    Oops. Umlaut had let his emulation lapse again. Did it matter? “I'm a living boy named Umlaut,” he said. “I got caught up in things.”
    “Why didn't you protest when I sent you to the dungeon? I thought you were a misbehaving zombie girl.”
    “It was easier just to go.”
    She glanced at the dragon. “I see you are getting along well enough with Drivel.”
    “Drivel Dragon? That's his name?”
    “Zombies tend to have descriptive names. He drools.”
    “I hadn't noticed.”
    “Well, come on. We'll get you cleaned up and give you supper and a bed for the night, and you can go on your way in the morning with our apology for the misunderstanding.”
    Umlaut looked at the dragon. “What about Drivel?”
    “He won't fit in the castle. He was here when we took over. We feed him and let him be.”
    “This is not a vicious or stupid creature. Why is he confined?”
    “We don't know. The Zombie Master didn't mention him.”
    Umlaut made what he suspected was a foolish decision. “Thanks, no thanks. I'll stay down here with him. The job's a long way from being done.”
    “But it's not your job! I mean to get up a cleanup crew,