The Eyes of the Dragon - Stephen King [49]
Peter turned his pale face away from both of them and looked out across the city, once more struggling for control of his emotions. His fingers were laced tightly together. His knuckles were white. He looked much older than sixteen just then.
"Do you see the box on the desk?" Peyna asked.
"Yes, Judge-General," Flagg said in his stiffest, most formal voice.
"Inside is a packet which appears to be slowly charring. Inside the packet are what look like grains of sand. I would like you to examine them and see if you can tell me what they are. I urge you very strongly not to touch them. I believe that the substance in the packet may have caused King Roland's death."
Flagg allowed himself to look worried. To tell the truth, he was feeling very fine. Playing a part always made him feel that way. He liked to act.
He picked up the packet, using the tweezers. He peered into it. His gaze sharpened.
"I want a piece of obsidian," he said. "I want it right now."
"I have a piece in my desk," Peter said dully, and brought it out. It was not as big as the one Flagg had used and then disposed of, but it was thick. He handed it to one of the Home Guards, who handed it to Flagg. The magician held it toward the light, frowning a little but inside his heart, a little man was jumping excitedly up and down, turning cartwheels, and doing somersaults. The obsidian was much like his own, but one side was broken and jagged. Ah, the gods were smiling on him! Indeed, indeed, indeed they were!
"I dropped it a year or two ago," Peter said, seeing Flagg's interest. He was unaware-as was Peyna, at least for the moment-that he had added another layer of bricks to the wall that was a-building around him. "The half you're holding landed on my rug, which cushioned its fall. The other half landed on the stones, and shattered into half a hundred pieces. Obsidian is hard, but very brittle."
"Indeed, my Lord?" Flagg said gravely. "I've never seen such stone, although I've of course heard of it."
He put the obsidian on Peter's desk, upended the packet over it, and poured the three grains of sand onto it. In a moment, little tendrils of smoke began to rise from the obsidian. All present could see that each grain was slowly sinking into the pock-mark it was creating in the world's hardest known stone. The guards murmured uneasily at the sight.
"Be silent!" Peyna roared, whirling on them. The guards drew back, faces long and white with terror. This seemed more and more like witchcraft to them.
"I believe I know what these grains are, and how to test my idea," Flagg said, rapping the words out. "But if I'm right, the test must be performed as quickly as possible."
"Why?" Peyna demanded.
"I believe these are grains of Dragon Sand," Flagg said. "I had a very small quantity once, but it disappeared, alas, before I could study it closely. It may well have been stolen."
Flagg did not miss the way Peyna's eyes flicked toward Peter at this.
"I have been uneasy about it off and on ever since," he went on, "because it is reputed to be one of the deadliest substances on earth. I did not have a chance to test its properties and so doubted, but I see much of what I was told proved here, already."
Flagg pointed at the obsidian. The dimples in which the three specks of green sand rested were each now nearly an inch deep -smoke rose from each like smoke from a tiny campfire. Flagg guessed that each grain had eaten through half the thickness of the stone.
"Those three specks of sand are working their way rapidly through a piece of the hardest rock we know," he said. "Dragon Sand is reputed to be so corrosive that it will eat through any solid-any solid at all. And it produces fearsome heat. You! Guard!"
Flagg pointed at one of the Home Guards. He stepped forward, not looking happy to have been chosen.
"Touch the side of the rock," Flagg said, and as the