FSE

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Chapter Seven

The Insult

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“Announcing, General Sunbird!”

Four gryphons in showy, ceremonial plated armor of silver and brass snapped to attention outside the Hall of Feathers and Talons. They all bore helmets, inscribed with intricate designs of stylistic wings. The black padding beneath their armor obscured fur and feather alike. Each also bore an indigo and ebony sash with Gryphon Legion emblem upon it. The four guards all bowed, forelegs splayed and chests brushing the ground.

Sunbird returned the gesture, her beak parted and ears perked in gryphon smile. “Don’t you all look sharp!” Ceremonial or not, they looked good in that armor.

The four gryphons kept their heads down as Sunbird walked between them. Two younger gryphons held open the immense wooden doors behind the guards. Their yellow sashes indicated they were in training to serve at the palace. They too, kept their heads down. As Sunbird passed through the doors, she examined the intricate scenes inlaid upon them, depicting gryphon history throughout The Mire. Sunbird moved on, and the entrance was closed behind her.

A dozen gryphons of various ages sat around a grand, oval-shaped table. Each bore a sash of rank. Some wore jewelry, while others had decorative adornments woven into fur and feathers. Even the largest among them was still smaller than Sunbird, but that was not unusual. Platters of food and drinking bowls of wine sat before them all. At the head of the table sat a solitary human in a large, padded chair. He was lean, by human standards, and long streaks of gray invaded his black hair and close-cropped beard.

“Which is why we should increase taxes on the dragon’s tributes by another five percent.” An older, dark blue gryphon was speaking as Sunbird entered the room. Lately, some of his once-vibrant silver highlights were fading to gray. He tilted his head, fixing his striking crimson eyes upon her. “You’re late. Again.”

“No, Carrus, I’m not.” Sunbird smiled as she strode towards her favorite gryphon in all the Mire. Carrus had offered her his support and loyalty from nearly the moment she arrived. Over the decades, that support had blossomed into a deeper friendship. Lately, Sunbird suspected it was growing into even more. “I’m never late. I always arrive precisely when I wish to.”

“When you wish to arrive is irrelevant.” The older male snapped his beak, though hints of playful mischief danced in his eyes. “The Warden scheduled this meeting for ten in the morning. It is now nearly noon, and the meeting is nearly completed. You’re late.” He softened his tone, and bumped his beak against hers. “As usual.”

Sunbird made a show of rubbing up against him. “If it’s such a common occurrence, I should think you’d be used to it, by now.” She smiled, then gently preened his neck. “Nonetheless, I do apologize, Flight Captain Carrus.”

“Apology accepted, General Sunbird.” He set his paw atop hers, squeezing it. “I’m glad to see you again, just the same. I trust you’ve been-”

“Oh, mount her already, Carrus!” The human slapped his hand against the table, laughing. “You two have been flirting for months, now, at least!”

“Warden, please!” Carrus drew himself up, fluffing out his feathers in indignity. “Can we at least try to maintain some professional decorum?”

Sunbird warbled happy laughter as she eased away from Carrus. “Yes, Warden.” As she turned, she made sure her tail trailed across the male gryphon in a very provocative way. “Do try to be professional.”

Carrus shuddered, and swatted her tail aside. “Th-this is hardly the time for your flirtatious antics, General!”

Sunbird glanced back at him over folded wings. “Just tell me when it is the time then, won’t you?”

The golden gryphon made her way around the rest of the table, brushing her wings and tail across each of the other familiar gryphons in greeting. As their General, Sunbird imagined herself akin to an old tribal queen, marking each of her officers with her scent before diplomacy, or battle. For now, she ignored the newest arrival, Jikir.

She reached the Warden last, and rather than rub up against him, she yanked his chair away from the table, settled onto her haunches, and plopped her head against his chest. “You may now pet the gryphon.”

The Warden heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, very well.” He scratched at Sunbird’s ears with both hands, then stroked her down across her neck a few times before abruptly shoving her head away. “There. Happy?”

Sunbird clicked her beak, lifting her head, eying him like an eagle sizing up a hare. “It’s a start. But my absence has a accrued of debt of proper petting, and I shall expect the remainder to be paid shortly.”

The Warden cupped her beak, grinning. “I’d never want to leave a debt unpaid, especially to you.” Then he pushed to his feet, and hugged her tightly around the neck. “Good to see you again, old friend. Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Warden.” Sunbird returned his hug with a foreleg, sighing.

When their hug ended, The Warden returned to his seat at the table. “So how were things across The Bridge?”

“Troublesome.” Sunbird clicked her beak, then thumped her tail against his chair as she took her seat next to him. “But also productive. Problem solved, for now.”

“Excellent.” The Warden pushed his half-eaten plate of food towards her. “Hungry?”

As if on cue, the gryphon’s belly rumbled ominously. She scrunched her face behind her beak, ears flat. “Quite. But I’ll get my own, thank you.” She lifted her voice to the servants waiting in the spaces between rooms. “Food, if you please!”

“Shall I take it that the General is always late?” For the first time, Jikir, the new flight captain, spoke up. Hints of derision colored his voice. “Perhaps next time, we should all arrive two hours behind.”

Sunbird snapped her attention to Jikir, grinding her beak. His feathers were emerald, mostly with hints of ruby red trimming his wings and tail. Despite his rank, he looked younger than she expected. Perhaps she should have read his profile more carefully, she thought. He met her glare with far more defiance than anyone else at the table would have dared.

“You must be Jikir.” She flared out her wings, looking him over. “You look far too young to be a Flight Captain.” The title was a bit misleading, as a Flight Captain was responsible for a regional division of the Gryphon Legion. “So who’d you have to let mount you to earn that recommendation?”

“Oh, hilarious, General Pretty Bird.” Jikir gave an irritable hiss. “Hilarious.”

Something cold and angry twisted in Sunbird. She slapped a forepaw against the table, claws unsheathed. “What was that, Captain?”

“I said-”

“Don’t call her that.” The sharpness of Carrus’s tone silenced Jikir. “Just don’t.” He glared Jikir, then turned towards Sunbird, softening his voice. “For what it’s worth, General, I know he’s young, but he was very highly recommended to us. He’s earned numerous commendations, despite his youth, and has worked his-”

“Yes, yes, Carrus.” Sunbird waved him off, and took a calming breath. “I’ll give him a fair shot, as long as he watches his mouth.”

Jikir glared at her, but kept his beak shut.

Sunbird decided to let Jikir’s anger simmer when her food arrived. A human servant emerged from a hidden door in the wood-paneled wall. He set a silver platter heaped with fresh seafood before Sunbird, then bowed and scurried off. There was plentiful raw fish. Some was cubed and tossed with citrus, while more was dressed with sauces and presented atop diced fruits. More fish was stuffed with vegetables and herbs, and grilled over flame. Roasted lotus root slices ringed coils of fried water snake. A heaping portion of swamp crab meat was served in its own inverted shell.

Sunbird smiled, her pointed ears perked. Gryphons liked seafood, but then again, gryphons liked almost anything. She unsheathed a single talon, and speared a cube of raw, red-fleshed fish. “Don’t wait on my account. Return to your reports and discussions.”

“Actually.” The young green-feathered male glared at her across the table. “We were nearly finished.” He waved a front paw at the only human seated with them. “Surely, The Warden would like to hear the great General Sunbird’s report on her own activities.”

Sunbird popped the fish into her beak, savoring the way the citrus had firmed its outside, while inside it remained soft, almost ready to melt. “My reports are for the Warden’s ears only. But since you’re curious, I was securing our interests across The Bridge. Some with negotiations, some with subterfuge, and some with…” She flicked the rest of her claws out, clicking them against the table. “Blood. Speaking of, how much blood have you shed, Captain Jikir?”

“I’ve not yet been required to draw any.” The emerald and ruby male drew himself up, opening his wings. “But I assure you-”

“Not what I asked.” Sunbird popped a coil of fried water snake into her beak. She crunched it up, swallowed it, and then set her paw upon the table, her claws still out. “I asked, how much blood have you shed? Your blood, Jikir. How much blood have you offered my Legion?”

The younger male glanced around, flaring the red feathers around his green head. No one else dared meet his gaze. “I was not aware bleeding was a requirement for-”

“It’s my requirement.” Sunbird hissed through grit beak.

“It’s about order, you see.” The Warden speared a roasted prawn with a silver fork, and swirled it in the air. “There’s an order to things, a natural order.” He bit the prawn in half, chewing it thoughtfully. “You’re young, inexperienced, and unproven. Yet, you sit at a table with me.” He tilted his head towards Sunbird, sharpening his voice. “With her. And with Flight Captains who have proven themselves to both of us with loyalty, hard work, and with blood. You’ve yet to do so.”

Jikir bowed his head, pressing his beak to the table, a very respectful gesture. “I assure you, Warden, I am loyal to you until the very end.”

The Warden lifted a goblet carved with images of his most esteemed predecessors. “Oh, I’m certain of it. And for someone who’s practically a fledgling compared to the other Flight Captains, you have impeccable credentials.” He took a long drink of wine. “But I’ve been waiting to hear what the General thinks.”

Sunbird flexed her wings in casual shrug. “I don’t know, yet.” She picked out a few choice bites of food, ignoring Jikir till he ruffled himself in impatience. “Maybe I should bleed him a little.”

“You’re welcome to try.” The younger male gryphon hissed, settling both forepaws down on the table with claws unsheathed. “If that’s a challenge-”

“Careful, Fledgling!” Carrus snapped his beak, then gestured with an indigo wing. “She’d rend your wings from your back, and return to finish her meal.” He flattened his ears back, glaring at Jikir. “Not to mention, your promotion to Flight Captain is on interim basis. You require the General’s approval to keep the position.”

“She made the challenge, not I!” The emerald male tossed his head. “If she wishes me to fight her in order to prove myself, I am more than willing, even if she bests me.”

“And best you, I would.” Sunbird reached for her wine bowl. She tipped it to her beak, taking a long drink. Then she offered Jikir her friendliest smile. “But that’s quite courageous of you. Tell me, how thorough would you like your beating to be?”

Before the emerald male could reply, Besirr, a golden-brown female seated next to him, set her forepaw atop his. “She’s only baiting you. But I suggest you keep your beak shut before she takes your balls as her latest trophy.”

Sunbird snorted. “I’ve never taken anyone’s balls.” She took another drink, then chirped. “Well, not as a trophy, anyway.”

The green male jerked his paw away, muttering. “Yes, I’m sure General Pretty Bird-”

Carrus cut him off with a snarl, the sound of a warning not yet heeded. “What did I tell you about calling her that?”

“Captain Jikir.” Sunbird stretched a wing to point towards the exit doors. “I feel it only fair to offer you a chance to leave this table before you say something you regret.” She tucked her wing back against her body. “When you’ve grown up, and lost your baby down, we’ll give you another chance to prove yourself.” She emptied her wine bowl, then gestured with it at the gryphon. “However, if you remain at my table, do remember that I gave you a chance to walk away.”

Jikir gave a low, rumbling growl. “Oh, I see how it is.” He drummed unsheathed talons against the table, one at a time. “Let me guess. If I stay here, General…what was it you didn’t like to be called? Pretty Bird?” He splayed his ears in gryphon smirk. “General Pretty Bird is going to challenge me to a fight, to make a point.” He pushed himself to his paws, tail lashing. “Ready when you are, General.”

“No, Fledgling,” Carrus said, with a sigh. “You’re not.”

Sunbird, ever so slowly, set her drinking bowl down. “You know, my mother used to call me Pretty Bird.” Deep inside her, something dark and angry awoke.

The room fell silent. Gryphons glanced at each other, nervously ruffling their wings. The Warden picked up his entire plate of food, and backed away from the table. Carrus did the same.

“How exciting for you.” Jikir tensed, his wings half-unfurled.

“I was the light of my mother’s life.” Sunbird stared into Jikir’s eyes, her black crown feathers rising. “On her many, many dark days, she would look at me, and smile. I was her light in the darkness. As long as she had me, she had reason to live. And as a child I knew, in my heart, that as long as I had my mother, everything would be alright.”

Sunbird’s ears drooped, and smoldering anger crept into her voice. “But it wasn’t. It was never alright. We were slaves, you see. Put on display, like animals. Made to serve. Only…” Sunbird helped herself to another gryphon’s wine bowl. She took a sip, then stared at her faint reflection in the reddish liquid. It was like seeing herself in a pool of blood. “Mother refused, Mother disobeyed. So, our owners gave her a nickname, too.” She lifted her eyes to stare at Jirik again, her every muscle tense. “Do you know what it was?”

Jikir gaped at her, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice. “How the hell would I know?”

“Pincushion.” The word began as a chirp, and ended in a snarl. “They called her Pincushion. Do you know why?”

Jikir watched a few more gryphons leave the table and back away. His bravado faded, as if he’d finally released why the others kept warning him. “I don’t know, but-”

“Because, whenever she disobeyed?” Sunbird drained the wine, and tossed the bowl aside. It clattered across the floor. “They stuck sharp things in her.”

Jikir swallowed, slowly retracting his claws. “I’m sorry they did that.”

“I’ll bet you are.” Sunbird pushed herself up to all fours, flexing her limbs. “It wasn’t pride that made her so defiant, though. It was love.” She waggled unsheathed claws, staring at them. “She was trying to protect me, but they didn’t care. They’d take her away, and make her their pincushion for a while, to punish her defiance, and make an example of her.” She put a paw to her chest. “And an example she was. Of courage, of love, of willingness to suffer to keep your family safe.”

Sunbird set her paw back down, sorrow filling her voice, an old scar opened anew. “At night, she’d limp back to our cell, her feathers matted with blood, but her head held high. I’d try to make her feel better. I’d wash the blood from her feathers, and I’d sing to her. Till my voice broke, and tears replaced my song.” Sunbird’s voice trembled, her wings shook. “And when all I could do was cry, Mother took over, and sang her little Pretty Bird to sleep.” She took a slow, shuddering breath, and all at once her voice was cold, steely menace. “And that is the memory of my mother that you insult, when you call me Pretty Bird.”

Jikir hunkered down in a defensive crouch. “General, I did not know-”

“Knowledge is irrelevant.” Deep inside Sunbird, something cold and furious uncoiled, like a vestigial memory of pain she could never quite shed. She had held it back until now, but in that moment, it surged through her, an unwanted passenger hijacking control. “My mother’s memory remains insulted! Mother earned her defiance, but you?” She tilted her head, lifted her ears, and smiled. “You’re just a little pincushion.”

Sunbird gripped the immense table in both forepaws, and with impossible strength ripping through her, hurled it over towards Jikir. Gryphons scrambled away, and food flew everywhere. Wine bowls toppled through the air, splashing their contents. Jikir squawked in startled fear, turning to scrabble away as the table came crashing down. It smashed down atop his tail, pinning it to the floor.

Even as bowls clattered across the ground, Sunbird was already moving. She leapt towards Jikir, beat her wings once. The motions propelled her across the room in a blink. As Jikir struggled to free his tail, Sunbird slammed her hind paws into him. The impact was so hard it sent him tumbling and wrenched free his tail, breaking the bone. Jikir screamed, thumping up against the stone wall.

Sunbird dropped back to the ground, using her brief flight’s momentum to charge after him. Just as Jikir staggered back to his feet, Sunbird threw her full weight against him. The male gryphon screeched as Sunbird crushed him up against the wall. Something in Jikir gave way, ribs broke. The wood panels on the other side of him cracked and shattered. With an agonized wheeze, he slumped to the floor.

“Now then!” Sunbird dropped onto her haunches near his head, snatching his green-feathered head in her paws. She let her claw tips prick at his skin, beneath the feathers. “Shall we make this official, Pincushion, or would you like to apologize?”

“General!” Carrus called out, walking closer to her. “I think you’ve made your point.”

Sunbird glanced up at him, her head tilted. “Are you sure? I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

“He’s learned his lesson, I assure you.” Carrus gently set a paw upon her foreleg. Then he lowered his voice to a gentle whisper. “Lirra, that’s enough. You’re not yourself.”

Sunbird blinked, soundlessly working her beak. _She…she wasn’t…_Somewhere inside her, the furious thing shrank back, just a little.

“He’s right.” The Warden hurried to Sunbird’s other side, and stroked her shoulder. “Lirra, what would your mother think?”

The cold thing within her withered away, completely. Sunbird took a slow breath, glancing around as if just starting to realize how carried away she’d gotten. The old name settled into her mind, calming her. “Oh...Carrus, Warden, thank you.” She eased back from Jikir.

Carrus nodded once, then lowered his head, hissing into Jikir’s ear. “I tried to warn you.” He waved his paw at Sunbird. “Hell, she tried to warn you.” He sighed, ruffling his wings. “We’ll get you medical attention. No one will think less of you, if you withdraw from the Flight Captaincy.” Carrus turned his attention back to Sunbird, delicately preening at a few of her displaced feathers. “Lirra, are you alright, now?”

“I’m…I’m not…” Sunbird took a few slow breaths, steadying herself. Only now did she realize how her heart was racing, how her blood felt like raging fire, pulsing through her. She had not lost control like that in quite some time, and it dismayed her. Maybe she was more exhausted from her trip than she thought. Sunbird shook herself, and then forced a bright smile to her face, beak parted and ears perked. “I’m right as rain, dear Carrus. Just got a little angry.”

The Warden gently grasped her beak, tugging her head down towards him so he could stare into her eyes. “Lirra, I need you to be honest with us. Are you alright? Is your…” He tapped her head. “Alright?”

Sunbird ground her beak. Her secret travels were often stressful, and sometimes took a heavy toll on her psyche. But there was more it than that, and Sunbird knew what The Warden was really asking. After all, only he knew her deepest secrets. Such knowledge could be a terrible burden, but she hoped she could one day share it with her own kind. Perhaps, she thought, even Carrus. For now she merely nodded, and offered the Warden a smile.

“More or less.” She gave his palm a thankful nuzzle. “Mostly more.”

“Let me know if that changes.” He scratched her ear, and then turned to the doors. “Guards! Summon the medics!”

The doors opened, and several gryphon guards hurried in, only for Jikir to voice immediate disagreement. “N-No!” Jikir forced himself to rise, his limbs shaking. Each breath rattled in his lungs. “I will not withdraw. I will not be…intimidated.”

Sunbird had to admit, she was impressed. But if the young gryphon was serious, she wasn’t going to make it any easier on him. “Admirable, young Jikir, but Carrus was right. If you leave now, no one will think less of you.”

Jikir grimaced, ears flat. “I will stay.” He forced himself to stare at the guards. “D-dismissed!”

Sunbird waited till the guards hesitantly retreated, then draped her wing across Jikir. “Very well then. But you’ll remain until the meeting is formally adjourned. After that, you will see the medics, then rest. Starting tomorrow, you’ll work your ass off every day, even if it hurts just to breathe. By the time you’re healed…” She dipped her head to look him in the eye. “You’ll have earned my respect, and I’ll consider you a real Flight Captain.”

“And here,” Jikir said, between pained coughs. “I thought I had to bleed.”

Sunbird warbled laughter. She was starting to like the little bastard. “Oh, I’m certain you’re bleeding internally. And I broke a few of your bones, I’d say. Which, in light of your willingness to remain…” Sunbird pulled her wing back, then touched her chest and beak to the floor in respectful bow. “I apologize for. I was carried away.” As she rose up, Jikir returned her bow, best he could. She waggled a single digit at him. “Just don’t call me that again.”

Jikir limped towards the upended table. “I certainly will not, General.”

“You ought to be apologizing to me, Sunbird.” The Warden retrieved his plate of food, and waved his fork at her, a smile on his lips. “I was using that table.”

Sunbird laughed and offered him a bow, as well. “My apologies, Warden. I’ll have it replaced for you.” Then she turned her attention to the many platters of food strewn across the floor. “Now, where did I leave my lunch?”

“I can have fresh meals brought in, if you wish.” The Warden returned to his chair, setting his own plate in his lap.

“Seems like a waste.” Sunbird plucked a few bits of fried snake off the ground, popping each into her beak. She found a whole fish, and though it had lost most of its herb-and-vegetable stuffing, she helped herself to it, anyway. She glanced at the other gryphons. “If the rest of you have been so softened by luxury that you need a fresh plate of food just because of a little spill, the Warden can arrange it.”

“Nonsense.” Carrus settled himself onto his haunches near his own toppled meal. “It’s no different from hunting your own food, and setting your kill on the ground.”

Sunbird smiled at Carrus, mantling her wings in appreciation. “Exactly, Carrus. And I do hope you soft city-birds still remember what it’s like to hunt.”

Jikir staggered to the remains of his food, resting alongside the upended table. He lowered his head to eat a few chunks of meat off the stone floor. When he saw her looking, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Anger, pain, and pride alike all burned in his eyes like tiny embers.

“If it’s good enough for the General…” Without breaking her gaze, Jikir picked up another bite of food, and put it into his beak.

As the rest of the gryphons finished what was left of their meals, a hidden door in the wood-paneled wall opened. Sunbird glanced up, and saw Information Officer Nils standing in the adjoining passageway. She surveyed the room, the table, the mess, and the wounded gryphon, all without any visible sense of surprise. Eventually, her eyes landed on The Warden.

Nils saluted the Warden. “If you’ll forgive the intrusion Sir, I came to remind the General that there’s something that requires her attention, when she’s done here. You may wish to attend as well, Warden.”

“Can it wait?” The Warden waved his fork at the upturned table, and all the gryphons around it. “Despite appearances to the contrary, we’re still in a meeting.”

Sunbird pushed herself back up to all fours, splaying her ears. Given her little dust-up, she almost had forgotten. That was rare, for her, and it wasn’t a particularly good sign. Sunbird wiped her paws on the floor, then padded around the table, brushing up against everyone. “I’ll go and see what it is.” Her touch lingered across Carrus, before she made her way to Nils. “Warden, you finish the meeting. I have to give you my briefing in private later, anyway. If this is important, I’ll tell you then.”

“Very well.”

Sunbird followed Nils into the hallway. The hidden door was just wide enough for a gryphon to pass through, but Sunbird’s feathers brushed it on either side. The door silently closed behind her. The hallway was white marble, and little wider than the door. It left her feeling claustrophobic as she followed the captain of her Information Division. Triangular, blue fixtures near the ceiling shed soft, blue light. The air here was strange, filtered, and stuffy. The scents were all muffled. There were no obvious doors, only embedded security slates to open hidden panels and doorways.

“So, you said this was about a slate activation?” Sunbird glanced down at Nils as they walked together.

“Yeah.” Nils folded her arms. “And something else I haven’t seen before.”

Sunbird tilted her head. “A warning? An error code? What color did it present with?”

Nils shrugged. “It was red level, with an unknown connection attempt warning. I think it was trying to send a distress signal.”

Sunbird’s breath caught. “Did you intercept it in time?”

“We believe so, but…” Nils turned around to face the gryphon, holding up her hands. “Then again, we’ve never seen this before.”

Sunbird clicked her beak, humming to herself in thought. “You said it was a Dragon Lord, right?”

“Correct. In Hope’s Folly.” Nils unhooked her data slate from her belt, activating it. “We pulled up the Dragon Lord’s file, and it turns out you’d previously flagged him for suspicious family history, and potential for disloyalty, among other things. His name is-”

“Arcaydior.” Sunbird flexed her forepaws, unsheathing her talons. “Yes, I remember him. Well, then, Nils, let’s go see what he’s been up to. If he’s lucky, all I’ll have to do is take away his toys.”

“And if it’s something worse?” Nils read through some of the dragon’s file as she walked.

Sunbird dug her claws in against the floor. “Then it’s simple, Nils. I’ll pay him a visit, and terminate his services.”

Nils scowled. “Just his services?”

“That remains to be seen.”

*****

Chapter Eight

The Dragon Tamer, and the Beacon

*****

With Esmir’s help, Mirin located several large, leather-bound books filled with fresh, blank pages. She also discovered a sizable, oak and brass chest absolutely brimming with writing utensils and other such goods. It had tiny journals complete with miniature lock and key. There were inkwells in fanciful shapes cut from stone and crystal. Bottles and jars held black ink and colorful dyes. There were charcoal sticks, and pens of several varieties. There were quills made from the feathers of gryphons. Mirin also found sheaf’s of especially sturdy parchment made to withstand use by larger creatures.

“Oooh, look at this one!” Esmir pulled up a crystalline ink well, shaped like a dragon sprawled upon his back. It was designed so that the quill was placed in an especially rude location. “You put it where his-”

“You are so easily amused.” Mirin smiled and waved her hand. “Set it over there.”

Tamriss walked over and burst out laughing. “Look at that thing! You put it right where his-”

“Two peas in a pod.” Mirin picked out the books she wanted to use for her cataloguing, and then selected the quills and pens in the best condition.

“Oh, come on, Drinksy.” Tamriss picked up the inkwell, grinning at it. “You don’t think that’s funny?”

“I didn’t say that.” Mirin stood and took the crystalline well from the thief. “It’d be a hit in the bar, that’s for sure. In fact, I think I’ll use it, and imagine Arcaydior I’m sticking right there all day long.”

“Hah!” Tamriss clapped her on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

Mirin spent the rest of the day digging into the forgotten sections of the dragon’s hoard. She started by giving a cursory inspection to the contents of all the nearest boxes, chests, crates, and so on. Each container was given a basic written descriptor before she moved on. Mirin thought it would help to start with an overview of the dragon’s collection before she undertook a far more detailed evaluation.

After watching her sort through and describe the first few boxes, Tamriss fetched herself a blank book of her own, along with charcoal sticks, ink, and other writing utensils. She perched on a crate, fixated on whatever she was scribing. Tamriss muttered to herself but did not bother Mirin. Though Mirin doubted she was doing anything helpful, she let the other woman work as she pleased. The less she was distracted, the more she could accomplish by the end of the day.

Tamriss eventually hopped down and wandered over. “Whatcha think?” She held out the book.

A detailed drawing now stretched across both pages. It showed Mirin kneeling in front of an open crate, with all sorts of items spread around her. A flintlock pistol, the matchlock rifle she discovered earlier, books, ink quills, a few magnifying glasses, and more. Mirin’s hair was falling around her face, and her expression was furrowed as if in deep concentration. A caption beneath it in fanciful script read, Professor Drinksy, Hard at Work.

“I think that’s damn good, actually.” Mirin reached out for it, but Tamriss pulled it away.

“Cut it out, you’ll smear it. But…thanks.” Tamriss smiled, and returned to her crate. “I think I’m gonna do Fairy Tale and her lizard hat, next.”

Mirin glanced to the other side of the room, where Esmir knelt before a small pile of gold coins, waggling her finger at the lizard. Little Admiral perched on a miniature chest that sat in the middle of the coins. The tiny reptile watched Esmir as if in rapt attention. “What the hell are they doing?”

“Pretty sure she’s given Little Admiral her own hoard to watch over.”

“Of course, she has.” Mirin rolled her eyes. “Everything’s an adventure for that girl.”

Tamriss set her drawing tools aside, folding her arms. “How old you think she is?”

Mirin shrugged. “I dunno. Early to mid twenties, maybe? Bit hard to tell with the way she acts, but she looks younger than us.”

“Whoa, hold on there, Grandma.” Tamriss held her hands up. “Don’t start lumpin’ me in with you, I’m not even thirty yet.”

Mirin glanced up at her, offering a smile of faux-sympathy. “A life of crime does terrible things to the complexion, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, shut your wrinkle hole, Grammy.”

Mirin only snorted. “How old are you, anyway?”

Tamriss folded her arms. “Twenty-eight.” Then she blinked and scowled. “Wait, it’s fall, right? Damn it. Twenty-nine.”

“So, you’re a whole two years younger than me.”

“Yeah, but I look twenty years younger.”

“Now you have a hat!” Esmir balanced a coin on Little Admiral’s head.

Mirin laughed and shook her head. “Meanwhile, she’s over there acting twenty years younger.”

“Yeah.” Tamriss scratched her neck. “I’m kinda jealous right now. If I didn’t have any responsibilities, I’d act like that too.”

“You’re far too bitter to ever act like that. Besides, what responsibilities have you got? You’re a damn thief.”

“And a bad thief, apparently, considering how I got here.” Tamriss climbed back up onto her crate. “And you’d be surprised what sorta responsibilities I got. Anyway, I’mma go back to drawing, now.”

“Actually, can you make yourself useful?”

“If you want, I can go over to the other side, start cataloguing the actual treasure.” She waved her book across the dustier side of the room. “I don’t know the first thing about all this old crap. I’d just write…” Tamriss mimed writing in the air with her charcoal stick. “Some kinda wooden box. Filled with junk. Small crate. There’s a gun inside. I think. Big chest. Moldy old garbage, and some kind of brass doohickey. Large box filled with smaller boxes filled with dragon sex toys.”

Mirin burst out laughing. “I’m not touching those, if that’s what we find.”

“We’ll just get Fairy Tale to take them to the dragon and ask what they do, while we watch from a safe distance.” She glanced over at the princess, now busy digging through a few crates of her own. “I can go start writing down treasure if you want, though.”

“Nah, no reason to rush. The longer we can drag this out, the less we gotta do around here before our time’s up.” She patted the ground next to her. “Bring your drawing things here, instead.”

“Now Drinksy, that’s an awfully underhanded plan, coming from you.” Tamriss collected her utensils and joined Mirin. “I gotta admit, I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you, you sneaky little-”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Tamriss.” Mirin waited while the other woman settled in, then pointed to the oak and brass chest. “Can you draw that?”

“Easy.” Tamriss spread out the tome she was using as her sketchbook. “You want charcoaol, ink, or what? Ink’ll last longer, but we gotta give it time to dry. Couldn’t find any drying sands yet.”

“That’s fine. I’d like you to draw container I search, and we’ll pair those with my descriptions of their contents.”

“Alright, I can do that.” Tamriss dipped her quill in ink, and scribed a few lines in black across the parchment. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Now and then I’ll pull out a few valuable or interesting items, and have you draw those, as well.” Mirin leaned forward, then gave a little coo of excitement. “Oooh, like this.” She carefully pulled out an instrument of brass curves and angles, with lenses tucked away in tubes. “Can you draw this?”

“Yeah, I can, but complicated stuff like that will take longer.” Tamriss moved her quill to a blank page, drawing new lines. “Lemme do that one first, actually. What is that thing, anyway?”

“It’s a sextant.”

Tamriss stared at her. “It’s a sex tent?”

“Yes, it’s…wait, what did you say?”

“What did you?”

Mirin adjusted a slide to see if it still worked. It creaked, but seemed functional. She picked it up to peer through the sight. “It’s a sextant.”

Tamriss laughed, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought you said. Hey, I’ve done it in a tent, but never with one of those things. How’s it work?”

“What?” Mirin lowered the device, then gave a long, weary sigh. “Not a sex tent. A sextant. One word. Wait, in a tent? Really?”

Tamriss scribed a few more lines, and then a long curve. “Uh huh.”

“Hmm.” Mirin dug through the crate again. “So, how was it?”

“Well we didn’t have a sextant to help out, so I guess we weren’t doing it right.”

“Hah hah.”

Tamriss drew a few more lines, bisecting the first ones. “Really, though, it was in a tent. I mean, how good could it be?”

“Fair point.” Mirin smirked, shaking her head.

Tamriss glanced up from her work. “What’s that thing really do?”

“It’s for navigation. Measures distance between stars and objects on the horizon. Helps ships and sky-crawlers navigate by the stars, basically.”

“Oh, that’s all?” Tamriss snorted. “That’s not half as fun as the name makes it sound.”

“No, I suppose not.” She glanced at Tamriss’ drawing. The sextant was already taking shape. “You’re really good at that.”

“Thanks. Been doing it a while, I guess.” She added a few more lines, and a cylinder, then leaned forward to blow on the ink. “My mother was an artisan, by trade. Taught me a few things when I was a girl. Drawing’s the only one that really stuck with me. Probably cause when I’m on the road or hidin’ out, I can just pull out a sketchbook and draw a while to pass the time. Used to sketch Vet a lot.”

Mirin took the sextant and replaced it in the chest. “Dare I ask who Vet is?”

“Vetkol.” Tamriss chuckled.

“Gibberish is not an answer.”

“It’s not gibberish. It’s a name.” Tamriss held up the drawing. “Not very detailed yet, but you can tell what it is. Is that good enough? I can keep going, but the longer I work on it, the further behind you I’m gonna get.”

“No, that’s lovely, thank you.” Mirin pushed the chest aside, and pulled up a smaller one, working the latches. “So? Who’s Vetkol?”

Tamriss returned to drawing the chest. “An old partner of mine. Used to like to draw him.”

“Aaaah.” Mirin arched a brow, smiling. “The one from the tent?”

“Huh?” Tamriss blinked, and then chuckled, waving off the idea. “Nah. I’ve slept in a tent with Vet, but I haven’t slept with Vet in a tent.”

“Just elsewhere, hmm?”

Tamriss only gave her a blank look. “Wouldn’t be much fun if I didn’t keep you guessing. So. What about you?”

“What about me?” Mirin popped the latches open and peered into the chest. It looked to be filled with an odd assortment of old mugs and rolled up scrolls. If Tamriss wanted to change the subject, she wasn’t going to stop her.

“What about you and Muttsy?”

Mirin glanced at her, smirking. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not really his type.”

“See, when you say it like that, you make it sound like gnolls are your type.”

Mirin pulled out a scroll, and inspected it. “You’re not roping me into that trap.”

Tamriss held up her hands. “Hey, if you ask me, I don’t care who you’re with. As long as they can, and do, consent? Have fun, I say.”

“For once, we agree.” Finding the scroll to be in decent condition, Mirin gently unrolled it.

“Wasn’t really what I meant, though. I just wondered how you met him.”

Mirin went still for a moment. She swallowed, then returned to unrolling the scroll. “I saved him, actually. When we were both younger. Though…it’s not really a story I like to tell. At least not without his permission.”

“Yeah, I getcha.” Tamriss chewed her lip, glancing away. “Vet wouldn’t want me talking about how we met, either, but…it don’t sound so different.” She sighed, then gently set her hand on Mirin’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Trust me, Drinksy, we all got stories like that.”

“So we do.” Mirin smiled at Tamriss, then realized her fingers were blackened. “You’re getting ink on my dress.”

“Oh. Right.” Tamriss yanked her hand back. “Sorry about that. So, whatcha find there?”

“Looks like…” Mirin carefully opened the scroll. Faded images marked it, mountains, trees, water, and markers for cities. “An old map of the Mire.” She glanced at Tamriss. “Probably don’t need to draw those. Just draw the chest, and I’ll note it down as filled with drinkware and various scrolls, to be investigated later.”

“Right. Can do.”

Mirin returned the scroll to the chest. Dark splotches caught her eye, and she turned her head to stare at her own dress. “You definitely marked this thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I said I was sorry.”

“What did you do?” Esmir shouted, stomping across the room.

Tamriss threw up her hands. “I know, I know! I stained the damn dress.”

Esmir stopped. “You did?” She walked up behind Mirin, then shrugged. “Oh, that’s not so bad. You should just mark the other shoulder, too.”

“Wait, then what were you shouting about?”

Esmir rolled her eyes. “Little Admiral just ran over to that box and made a doodie on it!”

Tamriss snickered. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“But not on the pretty boxes!” She shook her finger. “Bad lizard! Do that in the latrine!”

Tamriss leaned in to whisper to Mirin. “If she trains a lizard to use a latrine, I’ll tongue-kiss Muttsy.”

Mirin turned her head to stare the thief. “Better be careful what you wish for. If I told Tokka, he’d probably let you kiss him just to keep you from shirking a bet.”

“Ooooh!” Esmir let out a squeal of delight. “Look at this!”

Tamriss shouted back at her. “I ain’t comin’ over there just to look at your lizard’s turd!”

“Not that!” Esmir wrapped her hands around something leather-wrapped that protruded from an open crate stuffed with all sorts of random objects. With a grunt of effort, she pulled it free, spilling a few puzzle boxes with faded colors in the process. “This!”

Esmir walked over to them with the object. Little Admiral followed her, skittering over crates and jumping from box to box. When the princess neared them, she held her newly claimed trophy out for Mirin. It was a large, flat object of sturdy, dark wood, with rounded corners and a handle wrapped in black leather. A few holes were cut down the center of it. Esmir turned to show it to Tamriss when the thief joined Mirin.

Tamriss’ eyes went wide. “Is that…?”

Mirin only shrugged, smiling. “I think so, yes.”

“Do you…think it’s for his maidens? Or…?”

Mirin folded her arms, her grin widening. “You think it’s for him?”

“It’s for everyone, of course!” Esmir swatted the object against her palm.

Mirin and Tamriss both backed away.

“Look, Little Admiral!” Esmir showed it off to the smaller creature. “It’s a fancy cutting board!”

The little lizard cocked its head, then hopped onto the flat wood, skittered across it and ran up Esmir’s arm.

Tamriss wagged a single finger at the princess. “Do not cut my food on that thing.”

Esmir thumped it against her hand a few more times. “Why ever not?”

“Because the way you keep smacking it against your palm tells me you know what it’s really for.”

Esmir burst into giggles, backing away. She turned, and swung the paddle through the air. “For taming dragons, of course!”

“Oooooh.” Tamriss smirked at Mirin. “So that’s why they’re friends.”

The princess only giggled louder. “Hardly. We’re friends because we get along so well.”

“That doesn’t discount my theory.” Tamriss held a hand out. “Can I see it?”

Esmir passed it over, and Tamriss took it by the handle it, hefting it. “Yeah. Yeah, this is definitely a paddle.”

Mirin folded her arms. “Have a lot of experience wielding such things, do you?”

The thief snorted. “You hardly need experience to know what this is for. Can’t say I’d mind a chance to use it on that scaly bastard, though.”

“I’m not entirely certain he wouldn’t enjoy that.”

Tamriss laughed, a very wicked sound. “I’ll just keep going till he stops enjoying it, then.”

“Maybe that would teach him to keep his paws to himself.” Mirin gestured at Esmir. “You better put it back before he sees it and gets ideas.”

Tamriss returned it to the princess. “Put it back where you found it. But, uh…just in case, don’t stick it in too deep.” Then she shot Mirin a grin. “Well?”

Mirin just stared at her. “Well, what?”

“I was expecting a, ‘that’s what she said’.”

Mirin remained completely straight faced, aside from a single arched brow. “I should think she would want it in deep.”

Esmir snatched the paddle away, sticking out her tongue. “You’ve both foul and dirty minds, and I shan’t have my royal innocence tainted any longer!” She turned, and then skipped back to the crate, green lizard bobbling on her head. When she reached the box, she thrust the paddle into the air with both hands. “I shall dub the, The Dragon Tamer!”

“Royal innocence, huh?” Tamriss nudged Mirin. “Am I the only one who remembers her playing strip poker with a dragon?”

Esmir shoved the paddle back into the crate, leaving its handle protruding. “And not only did I win strip poke it, but I kept every scrap of clothing on.”

“Yeah. By cheating. Real innocent.”

“Princesses are always innocent.” Esmir tossed her curly red hair over her shoulder, striding past the other two women. “Come along, Little Admiral, we needn’t take these baseless accusations from the peasantry. Let’s go look at the admiral’s dirty picture books and put spiders in his bed.”

Tamriss turned on her heel. “Hey! So you were paying attention earlier!”

“Can’t hear you, being innocent and doing innocent things!”

Once Esmir was gone, Mirin went back to investigating the dragon’s hoard. She pushed on through another group of boxes and chests, cataloguing a general inventory. Tamriss sketched each container to go with Mirin’s descriptions and labels. The thief also drew any items of interest, such as a high-quality spyglass, and a pair of brass flight goggles with adjustable binocular-type lenses. One box was filled almost entirely with gears and cogs of difference sizes and metals. Grease marred some of them.

Mirin also discovered a black circlet, with dragons carved across it, and what appeared to be a set of silver bracelets with sand dunes inscribed upon them. Another box had an assortment of spherical metal projectiles under some old clothes. In a chest inlaid with white pearl stars, she discovered a fist-sized cube of crystal, with shimmering markings on each side. Within the same chest, she found two silvery stones about the size of her head. They were cut to odd angles, like giant dice with too many sides, none of which were even. Unfamiliar runes marked each disparate side. Mirin let Tamriss draw one, and then put it back.

As exciting as it was for Mirin to find so many fascinating relics, it also baffled her. Mirin was used to knowing what almost everything she came across was. And when she didn’t, she usually knew a trader, historian, or someone else who could identify it for her. But Mirin wouldn’t even know where to begin with a few of the objects in the dragon’s vast collection. She suspected the further she dug into it, the more oddities and mysteries she’d uncover. Half of this stuff was probably looted by Arcaydior’s grandparents, long before The Mire’s prison-building founders returned home and took most of their toys with them.

When echoes of the dragon’s voice bounced along the stone corridors, Mirin decided she’d done enough for the day. She stood up and stretched her back, easing out a crick she hadn’t even noticed was forming. She dusted off her hands, then picked up some blank vellum, a spare inkpot, and a quill crafted from a gryphon’s bright-crimson tail feather.

“If Admiral Ox Shit is home, I’d better start our grocery list.” She spread the vellum out atop a crate, dipped the quill, and scratched down some basic supplies. Then she glanced at the quill itself, rolling it between her fingers. “I hope this was shed naturally.”

“Huh?” Tamriss blew on fresh ink to help dry it, then set her final sketch for the day with the others. “What do you mean?”

“This quill is from a gryphon’s tail, I think. A male, from the looks of it.”

“You think some bird got murdered for his feathers?” Tamriss packed her supplies away into a satchel.

“I hope not.” Mirin sighed and pursed her lips, but dipped the quill again and returned to writing. “Who knows what sort of barbaric things happened back when the land was less civilized.”

“I thought that’s why they started hiring gryphons, and gnolls. To help protect the civilized areas from the less civilized.” Tamriss inspected the ink stains on her hands, then tried to wipe them off on an old, rolled up rug. “Dragons too, maybe. Paid ‘em off to off to help protect their colonies from the rest of the beasts and barbarians.”

Mirin shot her a glare. “Please don’t wipe your inky hands off on potentially priceless tapestries.”

“It’s a rug.” Tamriss wiped her hands on it again, anyway. “I think. And it ain’t priceless now so I may as well keep going.”

Mirin sighed, shaking her head. “Some people have no respect for-”

“I got plenty of respect for valuable things.” Tamriss waved towards the other side of the room. “But when I’m starin’ at piles of actual gold, it’s hard to get real excited about some ink-stained rug.”

“It wasn’t ink-stained…oh, nevermind.” Mirin ran her thumb against the feather’s soft red barbs. “Anything you want me to ask him for?”

“Nah, I’ll eat anything you know how to cook.” Tamriss picked up another large, feathered quill, darker than Mirin’s. “Say, how you’d know that feather’s from a male gryphon, anyway?”

“Generally, gryphons from The Mire have a lot of sexual dimorphism.”

“Hah!” Tamriss rolled the quill back and forth between her hands. “Damn horny birds.”

Mirin laughed, scribbling down a few more staples. “That isn’t that what that means. But also, yes, they are.”

“Oh?” Tamriss reached out and tried to tickle Mirin’s nose with the feather. “What’s it mean, then?”

“Cut that out!” Mirin batted Tamriss’ hand away. “It just means, differences between the sexes. Male Mire gryphons often have brighter colors than the females.”

“Oh, you mean like how your friend Feathers is blue?”

“His name’s Kalrith, but yes.” Mirin added a few cooking implements to her list, then set her quill down and blew on the ink. “Female Mire gryphons usually have earthy colors, sometimes with brighter secondary tones.”

Tamriss stared at the quill she picked up, a deep brown color, paler towards the shaft. “How come you keep saying ‘Mire gryphons’?”

“Because gryphons from other parts of the world have different traits. Same with all creatures, even humans.” She blew on her list again. “Really need some drying sands.” Mirin picked up her quill once more to add them to the list.

Tamriss walked up alongside her, reading her writing. “You know he’s just gonna knock that out of your hand, and tell you something like…” She raised her voice an octave. “Maidens will eat whatever I say they eat.”

“Probably.” Mirin retrieved an ornamental fan she’d discovered earlier. A bright orange sun was painted upon it, shining golden rays down across blue water, with a green dragon sunning itself on a single rock. “Why’d you do his voice so high?”

“Cause that’s how he talks in my head. All squeaky and hoity toity, like some nobleman whose always gettin’ it pinched by his fancy silver-spotted pants. And his stupid ugly purple shirt never fit right, either.”

Mirin arched a brow. “You’ve lost me.”

Tamriss waved her hand. “Oh, somebody I knew.” She raised her voice again, and took a mock bow. “Lord Barnabus Butterchurn, the Seventeenth.”

“You’re making that name up.” Mirin put a hand on corner of her list. “Hold this down for me, will you?”

Tamriss took over holding down the vellum at its corners. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.” Mirin fanned the ink to help it dry. “I think I would have done a noblemen’s type voice, too, but mine would be all slow, and ponderous.” She deepened her voice. “I say, Maidens! Who wants to shine my silverware? Oh, damnable indignity, I’ve stepped on the punchline to my own joke!”

Tamriss lowered her voice, too. “And also I’ve shat myself!”

Mirin laughed as she checked the ink. “I don’t know how to play cards. I say, why do I keep losing? What ho, I’m damnably dumb!”

“And also I’ve pissed myself!”

Mirin only laughed harder, setting the fan down when she was satisfied the ink was dry. “You’re really going all in on the latrine humor, hmm?”

“Also I have a paddle!” Tamriss waved her arms around at her sides. “I sure hope no one uses it on me, what terrible indignity!”

“That would be fitting, wouldn’t it?” Mirin wiggled her arms in imitation of Tamriss’ gestures. “But what’s all this about?”

Tamriss dropped her arms back down. “Was supposed to be his wings. Not so good, huh?”

“Looked like a butterfly having a seizure.” Mirin picked up the list, and made her way towards the room’s exit. “C’mon. Let’s go see if we can convince Lord Ox Shit to do some shopping for us.”

“Shopping?” Tamriss shook her head, following along at Mirin’s side. “Nah. But maybe he’ll go yell at people in town till they fill out the list for him.” Tamriss danced a few steps in front of Mirin, grinning. “Hey, know what sounds great to me, right now?”

“Aside from theft and robbery?”

“Yeah, aside from that.” Tamriss pointed at Mirin. “Let’s do your hobby tonight!”

“My hobby?”

“Yeah. Dragon made you send up all that great booze, right?” Tamriss continued her dance with backwards, shuffling steps. “So let’s get ploughed!”

“Actually, that sounds like a great idea. Just don’t tell the dragon you want to get ploughed. He might think you mean something else.”

*****

Chapter Nine

The Partner in Crime

*****

To Mirin’s pleasant surprise, Arcaydior agreed to take her list into town. She filled it with staples like rice and fresh grain, salt, spices, cones of sugar, vinegar, and other seasonings and ingredients. The dragon did not have a proper ice box, so Mirin asked for preserved foods such as along with cured meats, salted fish, dried fruit, and more. Mirin told the dragon if he was able to arrange daily deliveries of fresh meat and produce, that would help. Also on her list were new pots and pans, along with other cookware and utensils.

Once the dragon left for Hope’s Folly, Mirin went in search of proper drinking vessels. Since the kitchen’s selection was so poor, she turned to Arcaydior’s hoard, instead. She found plenty of ornate glassware and ornamental chalices, but seemed them all too fragile. Mirin eventually settled on a collection of wooden mugs, each carved like different races from the Mire. One was a dragon’s maw, with the liquid held inside. Another resembled interwoven gryphon feathers, with a handle akin to a front paw. The third had a handle carved in the shape of a stylized gnoll, as if the tiny creature was hefting an enormous mug up to its own mouth.

When she returned to the front room, Mirin found Esmir and Tamriss discussing the various barrels and casks stacked along the wall. “I decided wooden vessels would be safest.”

“Yeah, good thinkin’.” Tamriss turned towards Mirin. “We don’t need broken shards everywhere because Fairy Tale decides to play Smash The Glass.”

“Oooh, how do you play that?”

Mirin shot the princess a glare. “You don’t.” She handed Tamriss the tankard carved like feathers, and then offered the dragon’s maw vessel to Esmir. “These are made for beer, but they’ll do for anything in a pinch. Now, if you don’t wanna drink on an empty stomach, we can wait till-”

“I want a mug of this!” Esmir put her hand on a small cask.

“That’s whiskey.” Mirin stared at her. “An entire mug of that would-”

“So half a mug then.” Esmir gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll just help myself.” Esmir stuck her mug under the spigot of the whiskey cask. She poured some whiskey, then downed it all in one gulp. Esmir cleared her throat, smacked her lips, then smiled and poured herself some more. “Hey, this is good! That’s much better than what I drank with the Admiral before!”

Mirin stared at the princess. “Huh.” She scratched her head. “Not sure what I should have expected.”

Tamriss poured herself some whiskey, too. “Damn Princess, you took that like a champ. First time I tried whiskey I damn near coughed my lungs up.”

“Who said it was my first time drinking whiskey? The trick…” She poked Tamriss’ chest, giggling. “Is to drink it into your stomach, not drink it into your lungs.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Tamriss sipped her drink, then gave a sigh. “That is damn good, actually.”

“Of course, it is. You think I was going to ship him poor booze, once I found out I was gonna be stuck here, too?”

Tamriss poked Mirin with her mug. “Liar. You only sent good booze because last time you gave him garbage, he knew the difference. I was there when he called you out, remember?”

Esmir downed her second shot, and went to pour herself a third.

Tamriss put a hand over the princess’ mug. “Easy there, Fairy Tale. Maybe we’ll circle back to that stuff later, huh? You don’t wanna end up passed out before Ox Shit’s back, do you?”

“No, you’re right, he’d be terribly jealous if I passed out before he did.” Esmir leaned in and whispered to Mirin. “I think that stuff’s pretty strong. You’d better not give any of it to Little Admiral.”

“I wasn’t planning to give anything to Little Admiral.” Mirin stared into Esmir’s empty cup. “You really did down both of those.”

“Of course, I did.” Esmir wandered along the stacked barrels and casks, examining labels and names painted on the side. “You are going to keep up, aren’t you?”

“Uh oh, Drinksy.” Tamriss took another sip. “That sounds like a challenge!”

“Shut it, Thief.” Mirin laughed, and followed after Esmir. “As appealing as it might be to show you both how to get good and properly drunk, I’ve little intention of getting too inebriated with that dragon around.”

“Oh, listen to the Professor!” Tamriss finished off her whiskey, then waved her gryphon-feather vessel. “Inebriated!” She put a hand up to her face, circling her fingers around an eye to mime a monocle. “Remember, fellows, the overindulge of the consumption of alcohol may lead to the lowering of perceived inhibitions! Let us exercise due caution where it concerns the extended intake of alcoholic beverages!”

Esmir stared at Tamriss for a long moment before she turned to Mirin. “What language is she speaking?”

“Don’t mind her. She’s just trying to act smart.” Mirin poured herself some whiskey, then downed it, savoring the spice and faint, smoky sweetness it left behind, before the heat followed. “Happy? Now. Unless you have a better idea, we should drink Brambleberry wine, tonight. This particular batch has several years of age on it, and if you ask me…” Mirin glanced at the other two. “And you always should, by the way. I think it’s fantastic.”

“Brambleberry?” Tamriss made a face. “Swamp fruit?”

“It’s not ‘swamp fruit’ just because it grows in a bog.” Mirin set her cup in front of a weathered oak barrel, banded with iron.

Tamriss scrunched her face. “I mean, it’s good in tarts, but…wine?”

“I want Mirin Drinksy’s swamp wine!” Esmir spun back around towards Mirin, holding her cup out. “Is this something you serve your patrons back in Shitsville?”

“For the last time.” Mirin took Esmir’s cup, and shot Tamriss a glare. “There is no such town as Shitsville.”

Esmir gasped. “You made it up?”

“No, Tamriss made it up.” Mirin tilted Esmir’s tankard and opened the spigot, pouring wine. “My town is called Hope’s Folly.” She glanced at the other two women, then inclined her head towards the mug. “Wouldn’t normally use this style of vessel for wine, but-”

“It’ll be fine, Professor.” Tamriss drummed her fingers against her cup. “You’re not gonna make us swish it around and spit it out, are you?”

“I’d certainly recommend you swish the first mouthful, if you really want to appreciate it.” When the mug was about half full, she returned it to Esmir, then held her hand out for Tamriss’s. “But if you spit my wine on the floor I’m going to slap you.”

“Oooh!” Esmir beamed. “Are we playing Spit Fight?” She took a long drink of wine and turned towards Tamriss.

Tamriss quickly slapped her hand over Esmir’s mouth. “No. We aren’t.”

Esmir gave a muffled moan of disappointment, swallowing her mouthful. She stepped away from Tamriss’ hand. “That’s no fun. But at least this is good!”

Mirin poured Tamriss some wine, chuckling. “Good to hear. You’re at least one drink ahead of everyone, so take it easy, huh? You’ll be unconscious before we’ve even started.”

“Oh, please.” Esmir took another drink, swaying her hips to some unknown beat. Her purple and red dress swished around her. “Arcy usually passes out way before I do.”

Mirin handed Tamriss her wine, and finally poured her own. Scents of rich berry and tart fruits wafted from the reddish liquid. Mirin’s mouth watered. She glanced back at Esmir. “You two actually pass out often?”

“Not really, no. Well…” Esmir took another drink, licking her lips. She paused swaying her hips for a few beats, then went right back to it. Her head joined in, red curls bouncing. “Usually he ends up stumbling about and falling over! It’s quite funny. But I think he’s only actually passed out a time or two.”

Mirin cut off the spigot and turned towards the others. “If he drinks that much, I assume he’ll be joining us.”

Tamriss snorted. “Whether we like it or not, I’m sure.” She took a drink of wine, stared into her mug for a long moment, and drank again. “Sweet gold-gilded shit, this is good!”

Esmir turned towards Tamriss, pausing her swaying long enough to tilt her head. “If yours is golden, you may want to consider changing your diet.”

Mirin took a long drink of wine, then swished it around her mouth before swallowing. It was rich with flavors reminiscent of blackberry, cherry, hints of oak and vanilla, along with the gentle, distinct tartness of the brambleberries themselves. “Gods, I love this stuff.” She glanced at Tamriss, smirking. “Told you it was good.”

Tamriss took another sip, this time swishing it around her mouth the same way Mirin did. She gave a happy sigh. “Alright, I gotta give it to you. It is delicious, and that is a good way to taste it.”

“Helps you get all the nuances.” Mirin stared at the exit. “You know, if Ass Scales does drink that much…”

“We could get him hammered and make a break for it?” Tamriss poured more wine, then thumped Mirin on the shoulder. “Devious, Drinksy, I like it!”

“Hardly.” Mirin turned and punched Tamriss back, hard enough to make her yelp. “You’re here in lieu of jail, remember? I’m not letting you skip out on that. And he knows where my tavern is. If I left, he’d just come after me. No, I was just thinking…” She took a sip, then scowled. “Nah, nevermind.”

“Oooh, is it an evil plan?” Esmir skipped back and forth, somehow not sloshing her wine. “I want to know the evil plan!”

“It’s not an evil-”

“C’mon, Drinksy, you can’t hold out on us like that!” Tamriss bumped Mirin’s mug with her own. “If you got an idea, let’s hear it.”

Mirin took a drink of wine, swishing it thoughtfully. She swallowed it, gesturing with her tankard. “Well. This was only a fleeting fantasy. But I was thinking, if we get him drunk enough, it would be awfully satisfying to get a few cracks at him with that paddle Esmir found. A little revenge, as it were.”

“Oooooh.” Tamriss set her mug down atop a barrel, and thumped a finger into Mirin’s chest. “Yes. Yes! That. Let’s do that.”

Mirin grunted at the poke. “We can’t. As funny as it would be, he’ll just turn around and swat the paddle away, and get angry.”

Esmir giggled and took a drink. “Oh, that would be fun! I never got to paddle anyone, back home. Certainly not a dragon.” She set her mug near Mirin’s, and then dug through a nearby crate. “Where did I see that thimble?”

Tamriss folded her arms, grinning at Mirin. “What if we tie him up?”

Mirin blinked, took a drink, and blinked again. “Tie him up. The dragon.”

“Yeah. There’s all sorts of rope and stuff back in his hoard. I saw it the other night, before you got here.” She tilted her head towards the back room. “Hell, with all the crap he’s got back there, we could probably find something to serve as shackles.”

“He’s definitely got shackles.” Esmir finally popped back up, holding a tiny silver thimble. “I’ve seen them. He said they were used on dragon prisoners, once.”

“Problem solved!” Tamriss’s laughter echoed around the chamber. “We tie him up, shackle him, and get revenge for all that ass-slapping.”

Mirin smiled at the idea. “That’ll be fun, till he breaks free and eats us.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t eat me.” Esmir beamed as she stood before the brambleberry wine barrel. “He likes me.”

“Dare I ask what you’re doing with that thimble?”

“I’m getting wine for Little Admiral!” Esmir rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Obviously.”

“Wait, that’s going to pour way too-”

Esmir was already opening the spigot. A gout of wine flowed out into the thimble, and promptly sprayed everywhere. Mirin and Tamriss both danced back. Wine sprayed Esmir’s dress, and continued to spray it until she closed the valve a moment later. She turned around, humming and bouncing along as if she hadn’t even noticed the red, sodden mess. She came to a stop where the little lizard sat atop a crate.

“Here you are, Little Admiral!” Esmir set the thimble in front of the lizard. “Don’t drink it too fast, it’s strong.”

Tamriss stepped through the puddles for a refill. “Odd girl.”

The little lizard lowered its head to the thimble. Its pink tongue darted out, lapping at the wine.

Mirin chuckled, shaking her head. “Odd lizard, too.”

“Hey! What if the dragon lets us?” Tamriss held her feather-carved mug up to her lips, but stared across it at Mirin as if struck by a sudden idea. “Take a few whacks at him, I mean.”

“What, you mean if he’s into it? Then it’s hardly a punishment.”

Tamriss shrugged. “I was thinking more like a challenge. He gets real drunk, and then we tease him a while. Yanno, about how he wouldn’t ever dare to let a couple of his ‘maidens’ hog-tie him. Let alone let them paddle till he’s cryin’ like a little scaly baby.”

“Hmm. Maybe don’t put it that way to him, but that’s not the worst idea.” Mirin filled her voice with honey. “Oh, dragon, you’ve already slapped us on the rump…it’s only fair you let us do the same to you! Teehee, wouldn’t that be fun ladies?” She sipped her wine. “Somethin’ like that, maybe.”

“Yeah, but more like…” Tamriss lowered her voice, getting gruffer and sterner. “You big scaly crybaby, what’s the matter, afraid of girls? I guess you’re too much of a pathetic little weakling to let a few woman swat your-”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Mirin held up her free hand. “Because who the hell’s voice is that supposed to be?”

“That’s you, Drinksy!”

“Well, you sound like City Guard Number Two in the Briar Patch Theater production of Who Goes There.”

Tamriss only stared at her. “Say what to who?”

Mirin sighed. “Never mind. You’re right, though, appealing to his sense of ego would probably help get the job done. Then if he lets us tie him up? He can’t hold it against us when we get a little revenge. Might even show him how humiliating it is, and get him to stop.”

“Or…” Tamriss took a drink. “And hear me out on this…” She took an even longer drink.

Mirin grit her teeth. “Yes?”

Tamriss belched. Loudly.

“Lovely point.”

Tamriss flourished her hand, and bowed. “Thank you.” She straightened. “Nah, what I was gonna say is, maybe if we get him shackled up well enough, we can keep him there till he swears to treat us better.”

“A dragon is bound by his word, after all.” Esmir hopped from foot to foot.

Tamriss stared at her. “Huh?”

“A dragon. If they give their word, they’re honor bound to keep it.” Esmir stared at Tamriss. “Everyone knows that. It’s just like princesses, and animals.”

“Really?” Tamriss scratched her head. “I never heard that before.”

Esmir tossed her hair back. “Oh, read a book, thief!”

“I’ve read plenty of books.” Tamriss glared at the princess before she turned towards Mirin. “Is that true? About dragons?”

Mirin shrugged. “I’ve honestly no idea. I’ve heard rumors. And I’ve heard that dragons consider things like contracts to be permanently binding, but…” She watched Esmir, but the princess stared into her wine, inscrutable as ever. “I can’t say I know for sure how truthful that is.” She drummed fingers against the carved gnoll depicted on her tankard’s handle. “Still, it’s interesting.”

Tamriss took a drink, licking her lips. “Interesting how?”

“Interesting in that if it’s true, I wonder if we could convince him to give his word to stop extorting my town.” Mirin sipped the wine, savoring the rich, faintly tart flavors.

“Oh.” Tamriss rolled the mug between her hands. “Yeah, that is interesting.” She poked Esmir’s shoulder. “Hey Fairy Tale. If Admiral Ass Scales promised to stop asking for treasure and girls, would he have to keep that promise?”

“Of course.” Esmir drank, then wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her dress. “Dragons are honor bound to keep promises.”

“See, now there’s an idea.” Tamriss spun back towards Mirin. “An idea so good, that if I helped you make it happen, you’d be honor bound to ask to have my sentence commuted. Right? Riiiiiight?”

Mirin only snorted. “That’s an awfully large number of ‘ifs’ you’re counting on. I suppose if it worked, I may consider letting you, say…” Mirin swirled wine around in her mug. “Serve your sentence by working in my tavern.” She thumped Tamriss on the shoulder. “Under guard, of course, to make sure you didn’t cut and run.”

“Sounds like something we could negotiate.”

Mirin rolled her eyes. “If you say so. Besides, there’s a weak link in this whole chain of events you’re not considering.”

“And what’s that?”

“The idea that the dragon has any honor to be bound to in the first place.”

“Oh, he’s perfectly honorable.” Esmir turned to watch the little lizard lap at the thimble. “If he tells you he’ll do something, he’ll do it.”

“I’m not sure making girls serve him and slapping them on the ass counts as honorable.”

“I said he was honorable.” Esmir stroked Little Admiral’s back with a finger. “I didn’t say he wasn’t a scaly, sexist jerk.”

“Perhaps you and I have a different definition of honorable.”

“Speaking of scaly, sexist jerks…” Tamriss emptied her mug, then gestured with it towards the massive front doors. “That sounds like him now.”

Muffled wingbeats drifted through the half-open exit. They grew steadily louder until they culminated in the thump of a dragon landing outside. Arcaydior soon pushed his way through the doors, with a large gryphon carrier satchel in his jaws. Usually, gryphons strapped them around their bodies to help them carry cargo or food deliveries through the air. But they were rarely large enough to fit dragons, and so Arcaydior carried it the old fashioned way. He approached the women, and set it down.

“Here.” Arcaydior worked his jaws, then nudged the heavy-looking cargo pack with his nose. “I have brought you food for the evening.” He lifted his head, glancing at Mirin. “Your list has been delivered to your gnoll.”

“Hi Arcy!” Esmir waved at the dragon.

Arcaydior nodded at the princess, but soon returned his attention to Mirin. “Your gnoll also told me he would require several days to arrange for everything to be collected and delivered. I suggested he recruit his collection of blue feathers to assist when their amorous attentions were concluded.”

Mirin grit her teeth. Perhaps expecting the dragon to visit suppliers himself was too much to ask for. She hoped he had not troubled Tokka and Kalrith too much. “He’s not my gnoll, but thank you just the same.”

The dragon licked his muzzle, nodding once. “In the meantime, I went to a market and told the food wenches to fill a satchel with sustenance for you.”

Tamriss nudged Mirin. “I hope he didn’t call them food wenches to their faces, or they might have spit in our food.”

“Look, Admiral!” Esmir pointed towards the small lizard. “Little Admiral has wine, too.”

The tiny lizard lifted its head, gave what Mirin assumed to be a tiny belch, and flopped over.

“Charming.” Arcaydior snorted. “I see you’ve all gotten started drinking without me.”

“Yeah, you got a lotta catching up to do, big guy.” Tamriss patted a nearby barrel filled with ale. “Want me to crack this baby open, and see can see how fast you can chug the whole thing?”

“Faster than you.”

Mirin shot Tamriss a glare. “Shouldn’t we save the heavy drinking for another night?” She turned her back to the dragon, whispering. “After we’ve found rope and shackles?”

Tamriss shrugged. “Ain’t gonna bother me if he spends the night passed out.”

Esmir hurried towards the cargo carrier. “What’d you bring us, Arcy?”

“All sorts of things. I shall collect more food for you tomorrow, as needed.” Arcaydior worked the oversized straps open, pulling back the top flap. “You may eat now. As I waited for the wenches to prepare everything, I feasted upon glazed pigs. They were quite enjoyable, as was the barrel of tea served with them.” The dragon shook himself. “But now I need to piss.”

Mirin smiled at the dragon as she followed Esmir. “Aren’t you just a delight?”

“Of course I am. I shall return when my bladder is empty.”

“Bye Arcy!” Esmir waved with both hands. The dragon turned away, and his webbed tail spines swished through the air just in front of Esmir’s face. His tail passed near enough to ruffle her hair, and yet Esmir didn’t even flinch. “Bye!”

Mirin’s eyes widened, wondering if that was the courage of alcohol, or if the princess was just that comfortable around the dragon. Deciding it was just another part of her inscrutability, Mirin turned her attention to food. She knelt alongside the satchel and invited the others to join her.

Such cargo bags had stiff, flat bottoms, along with pouches and partitioned chambers with to help their contents stay upright during transit. Mirin pulled out wooden bowls, wicker baskets and stoneware filled with food. There was a steamer basket filled with dumplings, and a bowl laden with fresh noodles in a spicy curry sauce. Another bowl held thick slices of roasted water buffalo. Others contained vegetables fried with peppers, and large helpings of rice, and porridge. Another basket brimmed with pastries stuffed with delectable fillings. There were fish fried whole, and skewers of prawns and swamp crab, along with spiced water beetles and sugar-dusted tarantulas.

Mirin chuckled as she set the insects aside. “Shame Tokka isn’t here, he loves those.”

“There’s no way we can eat all this.” Tamriss grabbed a fistful of noodles. “But I’m sure as hell gonna try!” She crammed as many noodles into her mouth as she could, slurping them right out of her hand.

“Ugh.” Mirin glared at her. “Have you ever eaten in front of another person in your life?”

Tamriss wiped sauce from her mouth with the back of her hand. “Have you ever tried not judging everyone around you?”

“Ooooooh!” Esmir picked up a skewer of fried, fist-sized spiders, staring at it. “Disgusting!”

Tamriss snorted. “What, the princess too good to eat peasant food?” Tamriss waved at the tarantulas. “You know, ages back, when this place was a prison? The prisoners had to eat whatever they could catch, so-”

Esmir bit a tarantula in half, murmuring in delight as she crunched it up. She soon popped the rest of it into her mouth, and then gave a happy sigh. “Those are delicious!”

“I thought you said-”

“We never got to eat disgusting things back home!” She set the skewer down, and picked up a large water bug, crusted with spices and seasonings. “Is this a beetle? Oooh, I feel just like Little Admiral!” Esmir tried to shove the whole thing in her mouth, and failing that, chomped it in half. She chewed it up, and then finished off the rest of it. “No wonder Little Admiral eats bugs, they’re delicious!”

Tamriss ran a hand down her face, sighing. “You’re a weird girl.”

Esmir only smiled at her. “And you’re getting sauce all over your face.”

Tamriss jerked her hand away. “Damn it.”

Mirin touched Esmir’s shoulder. “Just remember, you can’t eat all bugs. Most of them are fine, once they’ve been cooked.”

“Do they have to be cooked, though? Little Admiral-”

“Is a lizard.” Mirin chuckled and patted the princess’s shoulder. “There are some things people need to eat cooked.”

Mirin helped herself to the dumplings. The first was stuffed with pork and cabbage, the next with fish and vegetables, and the third with a sweetened rice mixture. She glanced around at the array of food, smiling. “You’re right, Tamriss, we’ll never get through all of this. I suspect Admiral Ass Scales is planning to finish the rest of it off himself.”

“Then we’d best try everything while we can.” Esmir plucked a few prawns off a skewer, and then passed the rest of them to Mirin.

Mirin took a prawn and offered the last two to Tamriss. “We can save the fruit for breakfast, tomorrow. It’ll last. And anything dried or cured will last, too.”

Tamriss pulled the prawns off the skewer, and set it aside. She popped one into her mouth, speaking around her food. “Maybe we can hide some of it, to keep Scales from helping himself.” Tamriss licked her fingers after eating the last prawn. “Though we might have to put it somewhere he can’t reach.”

Esmir pulled out a pastry, holding it in both hands. “You mean like on his back?”

Tamriss stared at her, jaw hanging open. “Why the hell would you try and hide something on his back?”

“He can’t reach back there.” Esmir took a big bite, chewed three times, and spoke again. With every word, little bits of crumbs and spittle flew from her mouth. Some of them flecked Mirin’s cheek, and shirt. “That’s why we had to oil his wings.”

“Cut it out!” Mirin pushed Esmir’s face away. “Or at least point your mouth in another direction.”

“But…” Esmir swallowed, then went to take another bite.

Mirin put a hand on her arm. “Eat, swallow, then speak.”

“You’re no fun at all.” Esmir took a bite and chewed it with exaggerated vigor. She swallowed, and then smiled at Mirin. “Gulp!” She opened her mouth to show it was empty.

Tamriss leaned forward, looking at Esmir around Mirin. “Did you just say, gulp?”

“How else was she to know I swallowed my food?” Esmir rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Arcy can’t reach his back. So, if you want to hide food where he can’t reach it, just put it there.”

“That’s the dumbest…” Tamriss sighed, shaking her head. “He’d just sit down and it would fall right off.”

“And then it would be on the floor.” Esmir took another big bite of pastry, but finished it before she spoke up again. “No one wants to eat things that have been on the floor.”

“He’s a dragon.” Tamriss selected a slice of roasted water buffalo, waggling it at Esmir. “He’s not gonna care if it’s been on the floor. For that matter, neither do you.” She glanced at Mirin. “Before you showed up, Fairy Tale here picked up a cookie off the floor, and ate it.”

Esmir only shrugged, wiping her fingers on her dress. “It wasn’t there long.”

“I was more worried about where it came from in the first place, cause I sure as hell didn’t see any cookies anywhere before that.”

“So, you’re saying…” Mirin lowered her voice to a playfully conspiratorial whisper. “Her secret plan is to convince us to hide our leftovers on the dragon’s back, and when he shakes them onto the floor, she can help herself because no one else will want them anymore.”

“Isn’t that exactly the sort of weird, nonsensical plan she’d come up with?”

Mirin gave the princess a long look. Esmir was playing with a fried water beetle, walking it up and down the length of her arm. “Actually, yes, you might be right.”

“I’m Mister Beetle!” Esmir put the beetle on Mirin’s arm. She waggled it back and forth, moving it up towards Mirin’s shoulder. “I’m going for a walk. Why, I’ve spotted an enormous cave I’d better go investigate.”

Mirin only stared at her. “You’re drifting further from shore, aren’t you?”

Esmir giggled, walking the beetle up the sleeve of Mirin’s dress. “Now I’ll just peek into this cave…” Esmir put the beetle on Mirin’s cheek. “What’s in here?”

“Get that off my face!” Mirin swatted Esmir’s hand away.

“Aaaaah, a horrible ogre has attacked me!” Esmir waved the spiced insect around in figure eight patterns. “My legs are broken! Oooh, the pain, the pain! All I can do now is try to choke the ogre to death before it stomps my millions of children flat!”

“Don’t you even think about-MMMPPHH!”

Esmir shoved the beetle into Mirin’s mouth. With a sigh, Mirin chewed it up while Esmir continued her narration.

“Oh no, my plan has failed, I’m beating eaten alive! My bones are breaking! My guts are squishing! Oooh, my millions of children will have no one left to feed and clothe and shelter them! Who would have ever thought it would end like this? My last thoughts are of my wife and my-BLEEECH! Now I’m dead!”

Mirin swallowed and wiped her mouth. “I don’t even know where to begin unpacking half the things that come out of your mouth.”

“At the beginning, of course.”

“First, bugs don’t have bones. Second-” A loud, high pitched squeal from outside the fort cut her off. Mirin jumped to her feet, scowling. “What the hell was that?”

“Admiral!” Esmir jumped up and ran towards the front doors. “Admiral! Are you alright?” She glanced back at the others. “I hope he isn’t having pee-pee problems.”

Tamriss gave a loud, guttural laugh. “Oh, I do. A dragon with a kidney stone sounds hilarious.”

Mirin followed after Esmir. “I’m not sure that was him. I don’t think a dragon’s voice can get that high.”

“I dunno.” Tamriss stood up, dusting off her dress. “One time, I saw this gryphon accidentally sit down on a bramble vine. Thorn poked him right in his boys. I didn’t know gryphons could squeal like that, either.” She folded her arms. “Hey, now there’s an idea. We got any thorny vines around here?”

“Probably not, but-”

“Here comes the admiral now!” Esmir peered through the entry doors. “But what’s that in his jaws?”

“Oh, wonderful.” Mirin rubbed her forehead. “What poor animal is he going to eat in front of us, now?”

Esmir shook her head. “No, it looks like it has clothes on.”

Tamriss groaned. “Great. He murdered someone.” She poured wine into her mug, sighing. “At least we aren’t legally accountable for whatever unlucky bastard he just killed.”

“Oh, shush!” Esmir turned and pushed the others back to give the dragon room to enter. “He hasn’t murdered anyone. Whatever it is, it’s still breathing.”

“Whatever it is?” Mirin glanced at Tamriss, who only shrugged.

Arcaydior pushed through the doors, with something small, furry, and wearing dark green and gray clothes hanging from his jaws. Mirin recognized the creature immediately as an urd’thin, one of The Mire’s smaller people. To Mirin, they resembled a bipedal cross between foxes, and rats, with large, pointed ears, dark eyes, and somewhat canine-like muzzles. Urd’thin also had small, ridged horns set above their eyes.

This particular urd’thin was male, with inky black fur peppered with gray. More gray ringed the bushy black tail drooping between his legs. He hung almost completely limp from Arcaydior’s jaws, bobbling and swaying as the dragon carried him in by the scruff of his neck. His sharp, dark copper eyes darted about, and his arms were folded across his dark green, many-pocketed vest.

Arcaydior spat the urd’thin onto the ground. The dragon heaved a long, weary sounding sigh. “Alright. Which one of you does this belong to?”

The urd’thin jumped to his feet, flailing his arms at the dragon. “Get yer damn slobbery jaws off me!” He twisted and spun in place, wiping at the back of his black-furred neck. “Ecch! M’all drooly, now!”

“What the hell are you doing here, Vet?” Tamriss stormed towards him, emerald fire flashing in her eyes. “It’s been what, four days?”

“Oh, excuse me for bein’ worried about ya!” The urd’thin whirled on her, baring his little fangs.

“That’s Vet?” Mirin stared at the angry urd’thin. “That’s your old partner?”

The dragon snorted, then snatched Vet up by his neck scruff again. This time he hoisted him up with a paw, looking him over. “So, it belongs to you, thief?” Arcaydior snorted at the creature, then set him at Tamriss’s feet. “You take care of it, then.”

As soon as he was free, the urd’thin whirled around to punch the dragon’s paw. “I ain’t an ‘it’, ya sheath-lickin’ shithead!”

“Oooh, it swears!” Esmir giggled and clapped her hands. “We never had swearing dog-monsters back home!”

The urd’thin pivoted towards the princess. “I just told ya, I ain’t a damn ‘it’!” He grabbed his crotch in a black-furred hand. “I got-”

“Judging by your stature, whatever you’re grasping at is probably the least impressive aspect of an already unimpressive creature.” Arcaydior rumbled his amusement, then fixed his glare on Tamriss. “So. This little morsel belongs to you, Thief?”

“He don’t belong to me, but-”

“You mean doesn’t.” Mirin folded her arms.

“Whatever. I doesn’t own him, I’m sayin’.”

Mirin sighed. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

Arcaydior snapped his jaws, quieting both women. A smile stretching over the dragon’s muzzle. “I saw him skulking about earlier, and ignored him. But when I saw him again just now, I decided I’d best go round him up. I’m assuming he is here as part of your plan to rob me. Am I correct, Thief?”

“Oh, I see how it is!” Vetkol pivoted around to face the dragon, snarling. “An urd’thin can’t just go for a walk along a beautiful mountain trail?” He waved a black furred hand. “He’s gotta be ‘skulking’, huh? And he can’t just be out to enjoy a lovely day, he has to be…” Vet made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Planning a robbery’? Damn racist dragons.”

Arcaydior lowered his head to smile into the urd’thin’s face, his muzzle alone larger than Vet’s whole head. “You can be honest, or I can hang you by your tail from that pulley up there.” He pointed a wing tip towards an elevated pulley. “And then my princess can fetch a stick and bat you about like a party toy until you decide to tell the truth.”

“I ain’t scared of you, ya wet turd!” Vet tried to punch the dragon on the nose, but Arcaydior pulled his head back too swiftly.

“Mouthy little thing, your friend.” The dragon swung his head towards Tamriss. “Perhaps you had best tell the truth, to spare him the indignity?”

“She don’t gotta say nothin’!” The urd’thin spread his arms out, snarling again, louder than before. “So do your worst, ya mangy gryphon-sucker!”

Arcaydior flexed his wings in a shrug. “If that’s the way you want it, fine.” He snatched Vet’s black and gray tail in a paw. The urd’thin immediately twisted around and started punching and biting the dragon’s foreleg. Arcaydior barely even seemed to notice his efforts. “I told you before thief, I already suspected you. You aren’t the first to try and rob me, nor will you be the last. So you may as well admit it! Or…” He lifted Vet to his tiptoes, by his tail.

“OWWWW!” Vet yowled, trying to pull free. “Don’t tell him…aaah! Leggo, you gnoll’s latrine!”

“Alright, alright!” Tamriss held her hands up, walking towards the dragon. “Yes! I was gonna try and rob you. Happy?”

“Not sure why you’d think that would make me happy, but continue.” Arcaydior eased the urd’thin back down, but did not release him.

“I just told you-”

Arcaydior lifted Vet up by the tail again, and the urd’thin gave another little squeal. “Stop wasting my time. The plan. Now.”

Esmir pounded her fists against the dragon’s foreleg. “Arcy! Quit being mean to that little dog-monster this instant!”

Arcaydior glanced at her, snorting. “Not now, Princess, I’m conducting an interrogation!”

“I don’t care what you’re doing! Little Admiral and I won’t stand for this!” As Esmir moved to beat on Arcaydior’s shoulder, Little Admiral scrambled up the princess, and leapt onto the dragon. The lizard thumped her front feet back and forth against Arcaydior in imitation of the princess’s punching. “See? Now you’ve made her angry! How’d you like it if we hoisted you up by your tail?”

“You’re welcome to try.” The dragon rumbled laughter, then swung his head around and fixed his burnt-gold glare on Tamriss. “I’m still waiting to hear your plan.”

“Okay, fine!” Tamriss went to the dragon’s foreleg to try and pry his fingers off of Vetkol’s tail. “Let him go, and I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Very well.” Arcaydior let go of the urd’thin’s tail. “Now speak.”

As soon as Vetkol was free from the dragon’s grasp, Tamriss whisked him away from the dragon. Counting his tall ears, he only came up to her chest. Tamriss crouched down to look him over. “You alright, Vet?”

“Baaah.” The urd’thin waved a hand. “M’fine!” He glanced away, then tugged his tail around in front of his body, inspecting it. “Just a bit sore. Nothin’ broke or dislocated.” He bumped his muzzle against her cheek. “Thanks, though.”

“Sure.” Tamriss ruffled the fur between his oversized black ears. Gray tipped them. She stood up and circled an arm protectively around the urd’thin’s shoulders as she faced the dragon. “I wasn’t gonna steal much. Figured if I snuck out with an item or two, once a week or so, nothing would be missed. I was gonna sneak them outside while you were asleep. Vet here was gonna stash them somewhere safe.” Tamriss shot the urd’thin a glare. “But Vet was supposed to wait at least a week before he even thought about coming to look for the first pick up.”

The urd’thin snapped his teeth. “I told ya, I was worried about ya. Shoulda just stuck with robbin’ taverns.”

“Yes, because that worked out well.” Mirin waved her hand at them, laughing. “Hell of a pair of thieves you two are.”

“It worked just fine the first few times.” Tamriss glanced at Mirin, then shrugged. “Yours was gonna be the last one.”

Mirin folded her arms. “And yet you failed you realize my tavern wasn’t empty at night.”

Tamriss shook her head. “Nah, I knew you had a guard dog. I just expected him to be black-out drunk all night. Getting caught just accelerated the plan. I was gonna volunteer for the dragon’s service, later.”

“For your information, Tokka only gets black-out drunk occasionally!” Mirin thumped a finger against Tamriss’s chest. Then her confidence wavered and she dropped her hand. “That sounded better in my head.”

Arcaydior pushed Mirin away. “I believe I was the one interrogating the thieves, Bar Wench.”

“And a fine job you were doing.”

The urd’thin tilted his head back to glare up at the dragon, all bristled fur and fangs. “Ain’t you done, yet? We already told ya the plan, ya big ass-fungus.”

Arcaydior tilted his head, rumbling in amusement. “You’re quite an entertaining little rodent. I think I’ll keep you around.”

“How come he gets to call you names like that?” Mirin looked between the dragon and urd’thin. “If I said that, you’d be pissed as hell.”

“Because his voice is so high and squeaky I can scarcely tell what he’s yipping about.” Arcaydior laughed, stretching his wings. “Thief, since the rodent belongs to you, you will take care of him while he’s here.”

“I ain’t her damn pet, you scaly sack of-”

Tamriss grabbed the urd’thin’s muzzle, shushing him. “Quit while you’re ahead, Vet.”

“He’s too short to be ahead of anyone.” Arcaydior lowered his head to Tamriss. “Now, then. For the crime of attempted robbery, your six month term is now considered minimum. Your partner is hereby sentenced to join you in servitude. He will share your food, drink, and sleeping space.” The dragon flared out his spines. “I hope you understand the extreme leniency I’m offering you.”

“So do I,” Mirin said, giving the other woman a hard look. She’d expected the dragon to react far more harshly.

Tamriss gulped, and bowed her head in silent thanks, still holding Vet’s muzzle shut.

Arcaydior turned his head, sniffing at the urd’thin. He scrunched his muzzle. “Your pet smells unpleasant, so go give him a bath. Wash his clothes, too.” Arcaydior lifted his head, smiling. “Because I doubt I have any clothing small enough to fit children.”

Vet snarled, balling up a fist as he pulled away from Tamriss. “I oughta slug you square in your left-”

Tamriss snatched the collar of his vest. “Not now, Vet.” She glanced at Mirin and Esmir. “I’m gonna show him to the tub. Save him some food, alright?”

“You guys got food?” Vet’s whole demeanor changed in an instant. He looked around, and his dark copper eyes went wide when he spotted the cargo satchel and plates of half eaten dinner still waiting. “Oh! Come on, Tams, let’s eat!”

“Tams?” Mirin arched a brow, smiling. “You know, it occurs to me, Vet seems to be the only one don’t have an insulting pet name for. I wonder-”

Tamriss waggled her hands. “Oooh, the thief has a friend she actually cares about! What a revelation! Someone tell the town crier!” She put a hand to her mouth. “Hear ye, hear ye, the dirty thief cares about someone!” She dropped her hand. “Give it a rest, Drinksy.”

Mirin only shrugged, still grinning. “I wasn’t going to call you dirty.” She peered at the urd’thin. Mud marred his forest-green vest and its many pockets. More mud stained the hem of his dark gray breeches, replete with golden patches. Dirt matted the fur of his tail in a few places. “Your friend, though-”

Vet stomped a muddy boot. “Oh, here we go. Everyone always thinks urd’thin are dirty!”

Mirin shrugged. “I don’t think urd’thin are dirty at all.”

“Oh.” Vet rubbed his hands together. “In that case-”

“I think you’re dirty.” Mirin smiled at him. “Because your fur and clothes are literally caked with dirt.”

“I was in a damn swamp!” Vet huffed and folded his arm.

“Told you he smelled foul.” Arcaydior swished his tail, glancing at the princess. “If you and your little friend are done punishing my shoulder, I’m going to get some booze.”

“If you’re finished being mean?” Esmir shook a finger at the dragon. Little Admiral scurried back up the woman’s arm, then turned and shook a front foot at Arcaydior the same way. “Then we’re finished teaching you a lesson.”

“You guys got booze?” Vet turned his attention to the stacks of barrels along the far wall. “Ooooooooh! Tams, you’re livin’ better than I am!”

“Which is why I told you not to worry!”

“I think you were holdin’ out on me!” Vet punched her arm. “Livin’ the good life, with fancy food, and booze! Meanwhile, I’m tromping through the bushes, eatin’ grubs and drinkin’ ditch water!”

“Why were you…” Tamriss grit her teeth. “I gave you all the money we made in the other town! You were supposed to get a room at a nice inn!”

Vet waved her off. “And I did! For a night. Then I kinda lost the rest of it on…” The urd’thin trailed off, but Mirin caught something about a wager.

“Another fight?”

“That stupid gnoll took a dive, I’m sure of it! Besides, I figured you’d sneak me somethin’ I could sell to cover the bills.”

“Oooh, so now it comes out.” Tamriss threw her hands up. “You weren’t worried about me, you just needed more money!”

“Can’t it be both?” The urd’thin picked at a tangle in his tail fur. “Anyway, we’re both stuck here, and no one’s gettin’ their legs broke, so let’s drink!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mirin stepped closer. “Which one of you is making the sort of wagers that end in broken legs when they don’t get paid?”

Tamriss glowered at her smaller friend. “Take a guess.”

“It was a lock!” The urd’thin bared his fangs, ears flat. “Why won’t anyone ever listen to me about these things?”

“Because you’re usually wrong.” Tamriss flicked the urd’thin on his dark nose. “Case in point, someone wants to break your legs!”

“Ow!” Vet rubbed his nose, grumbling. “Yeah, alright. Anyway, let’s eat, cause I’m starved! Also, let’s get hammered, cause I’m sober!”

Arcaydior glanced over his black and gray mottled wings as he filled a drinking bowl full of wine. “Neither thief is to drink another drop until the mutt is clean. I won’t have dirty things tromping about my home.”

“Fine, fine.” Tamriss waved for Vet to follow her. “The tub’s this way.”

Esmir bounced on the balls of her feet. “I can bathe the little dog-monster if you like, Tams.”

“Oh yeah?” The urd’thin turned towards her, looking the princess up and down. “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

Mirin gently grasped Esmir’s hand. “Let’s let Tams handle it.” She smirked at the thief. “I’m certain she’s plenty of experience.”

Tamriss just glared at her. “Hilarious. Come on, Vet, let’s go.”

Vet followed the thief, but glanced over his shoulder at the princess. A grin stretched across his black-furred muzzle. “You can bathe with us too, if ya want.”

Tamriss swatted Vet across the back of his head. “Cut it out.”

“Ow! That hurt!”

“You’ll live. Besides, she’d probably drown you by accident.” She took Vet’s hand, guiding him towards the archway. She paused just before the maroon curtains. “We’ll be back soon.”

Mirin waggled her fingers. “Have fun, Tams.”

“Stop callin’ me that. Only he gets to call me that.” Tamriss tugged Vet through the curtains.

The urd’thin called back, his voice muffled. “Save me some damn booze!”

Mirin only smiled, lifting her voice loud enough to ensure the thief could hear it. “Bye, Tams!”

*****

Chapter Ten

The Volatile Possessions

*****

While Tamriss was away with Vetkol, Mirin and Esmir returned to eating dinner. Arcaydior lounged nearby, lapping at an immense bowl filled with wine. Esmir helped herself to some of everything available, and was still eating long after Mirin was stuffed.

“You know, you don’t have to eat until your stomach bursts.”

“That can happen?” Esmir stared at the half-eaten dumpling in her hand with wide eyes and mouth agape. Little Admiral, perched on her shoulder, gawked at the dumpling the same way. Then Esmir shrugged, ate the dumpling anyway, and offered the lizard a tiny bite.

Mirin chuckled, sipping her own glass of wine. She’d had enough now to feel pleasantly warm and unusually at peace with her current lot in life. If Tokka was around, she might keep drinking, but in the dragon’s company she wasn’t so sure that was wise.

“You’d be surprised how much the girl can eat.” Arcaydior thumped his tail against the stone floor, licking wine droplets from the pebbly green scales of his muzzle. “She has an appetite worthy of a dragon.”

“And surpassing one, from the looks of things. Starting to wonder if it’s her who’s been eating all the extra food, not you.”

“I never got to overindulge back in the palace!” Esmir licked her fingers, then scowled at the remaining food as if frustrated it would dare to continue existing when her stomach had no more room to fit it. “I don’t think I can manage anymore, but it still looks so good.”

“Save a scrap or two for the thief’s mutt.” Arcaydior lapped up a few mouthfuls of wine, snorting. “Or don’t. It might be fun to hear what foul new insults he comes up with, when I inform him you’ve eaten his share.”

“I suppose I should save the little dog-monster something.” Esmir sighed and pushed the food away. Little Admiral scurried down Esmir’s arm, hopped to the floor, and then licked at a bit of sweet sauce dribbling out of a pastry. Esmir stroked the lizard’s back with a finger, then shot the dragon a fiery-eyed glare. “You were terribly mean to him, Arcy.”

“He was robbing me.” The dragon snorted, flattening back his spines.

“No, he wasn’t.” Esmir folded her arms. “He was outside when you brought him in.”

Arcaydior heaved a frustrated sigh. “He was going to rob me.”

“That’s still no reason to hoist him up by his tail!”

“I barely lifted him to his toes. If I wished to be cruel, I’d have hauled him off his feet and spun him around like a party favor.” The dragon swirled his paw. “And then let go, to watch him sail off into the distance. Or at least the nearest wall.”

Esmir thrust a finger at the dragon. “How you’d like it if someone hoisted you up by your tail?”

Little Admiral lifted a front foot and pointed a toe at the dragon.

“See? Little Admiral agrees with me.”

“As I said before.” Arcaydior stretched his tail towards her, webbed spines scratching at the floor. “You’re welcome to try.”

“So, you’re saying if we can find a way to haul you up by your tail, you’ll let us?” Mirin gazed at the dragon, and took a long, slow drink of wine. She waited till he was about to reply, then cut him off. “That might make it easier to use that paddle we found in your hoard.”

Esmir burst into giggles, clapping. “Ooooh, that would be fun!”

Arcaydior gazed at Mirin, impassive. “What paddle?”

Mirin only snorted, and took another drink. “Uh huh.”

“The one in your hoard!” Esmir pushed herself to her feet, carrying her wine glass and Little Admiral’s Thimble towards the drink barrels on the far wall. “More wine, Little Admiral?”

The lizard scurried after her, head bobbing as if agreement.

“You know, you’re going to kill that lizard if you keep giving it wine.” Arcaydior pushed his bowl across the floor towards the princess. “But fill mine while you’re up.”

“Nonsense, the Little Admiral knows her limits.” Esmir fetched the dragon’s bowl. “And quit trying to change the subject.”

“Don’t stick that thimble under the tap.” Mirin pointed to the puddles still lingering from earlier. “You’ll just waste ten times as much as you’re actually pouring. Just pour your wine first, and then dip the thimble in it.”

Esmir scrunched her face, then tossed her head in her best imitation of the dragon. Red curls bounced. “I’d get lizard slobber in my wine. I’ll use the Admiral’s bowl.”

Arcaydior hissed at her, thumping a front paw against the ground. “I don’t want lizard slobber in my bowl, either.”

“Then you’d better stop drinking from it.” Esmir cackled as she poured the dragon’s wine. She cut the spigot off when the bowl was nearly full, then dunked her thimble in it. Esmir carried the dripping thimble back to where she’d been sitting, and put it on the floor. Little Admiral scurried after it, pausing along the way to lap at each droplet of spilled wine. Esmir waved at her. “See? She’s not wasting it at all.”

“You’re going to give her liver failure,” Mirin said.

Esmir spun back towards the barrels, her wine-stained dress swishing. “Nonsense. That won’t happen unless she drinks heavily until she’s sixty.”

Mirin set her own cup aside, then leaned back against her hands. “Lizards like that don’t live to be sixty. They live to be three, maybe.”

Esmir gasped, and clasped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. “How horrid!” Then she heaved a long, sorrowful sigh. “Poor Little Admiral! Well, all the more reason to live it up while she’s around.” She fetched the dragon’s bowl, and carried it over to him, then returned to refill her own glass. “So why do you have a paddle, Arcy?”

Arcaydior snorted. “I don’t.” He lowered his head, lapping at his wine.

“Yes, you do. We found it in one of your crates.” Mirin watched him closely, but other than the twitching of his tail tip, the dragon did not react. “Who’s it for?”

“Probably a cook, as I suspect it’s a cutting board.”

“Cutting boards don’t have handles like this. Or holes in them.”

“Sure, they do.” The dragon lifted his head, licking his muzzle. “The handle helps a cook carry it, and the holes allow juices to drain from sliced meats. Any other questions, inspector?”

“Yeah.” Mirin leaned forward, picking up her gnoll-handle mug. “Is the paddle for you, or your guests?”

“Or for his guests to use on him?” Esmir giggled as she settled down near Mirin.

“It’s going to be used on the Bar Wench if she continues her insinuations.” Arcaydior gave a low, rumbling growl.

“So you admit it is a paddle.” Mirin swirled her wine.

“It’s a cutting board, but I’ll be happy to use it as a paddle, if you wish it.” The dragon clicked his teeth. “Or you keep this up.”

Mirin sipped her wine. “What if we want to use it as a paddle, on you?”

“I doubt your efforts would even register as anything more than a tickle.” The dragon stretched his forepaws, splayed them, and then gave a long, exaggerated yawn.

“Care to wager about that?”

“Nice try, Bar Wench.”

“Is it me…” Esmir leaned over to Mirin. “Or is that red color at the edges of his head fans getting darker? And spreading?”

Mirin blinked. “Head fans?”

“Yes!” Esmir put her hands alongside her ears, waggling her fingers. “His head fans!”

Little Admiral wiggled a front foot near her head.

“Those are called frills!” Arcaydior snapped his teeth, then curled his tail around his paws. “At least your vine-runner has decided to mimic you, not me.”

Little Admiral stared up at Arcaydior, and curled her tail around herself.

“Stop that!”

Mirin looked the dragon over. It was hard to tell for certain, but his crimson-edged frills did look darker than before. “You’re right, Esmir, he is blushing.” She sipped her wine. “But it might just be because he’s drunk.”

“I am not drunk.” The dragon swiveled his head around, glaring at Mirin. “I’ve no desire for inebriation, given that a second thief has just entered my home.”

Mirin leaned back onto her hands. “Waiting till tomorrow, huh?”

Arcaydior cocked his head, a smirk playing across his muzzle. “If my maidens wish me to drink with them, who am I to deny the request?” He tapped a few claw tips against the stone floor. “Assuming I believe the rodent won’t try to run off. Of course, if he does…”

Esmir watched the dragon in silence for a few moments. Then she glanced at Mirin. “Did I black out for a moment?”

Mirin knit her brows. “I don’t think you’ve had that much to drink. Have you?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think so, but then the dragon just stopped talking and I blinked and I seem to have missed what he said.”

Arcaydior groaned, and put a paw on his head, just below a horn. “I was trailing off for dramatic effect.”

“Yes, but I think I blacked out.” Esmir stared into her mug. “Because after you trailed off, I missed what you said next.”

“I didn’t say anything next!”

Esmir took another drink of wine, tilting her head. “But why not?”

“Because I was trailing off for dramatic effect!”

“Yes, but I think I blacked out.” Esmir peered into her mug. “Because-”

“No!” Arcaydior held up a paw towards the princess. “We’re not playing this game.”

Esmir nudged Mirin with her elbow. “Do you know what game he’s talking about? Because I must have missed it when I blacked out.”

Mirin struggled to hold back laughter. “No, no. I’m not playing this either. I’d play Paddle the Dragon, but I doubt Scales over there would have the guts to let me.”

The dragon leveled his burnt-gold gaze at her. “I also lack the paddle.”

“Uh huh.” Mirin tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling. Her gaze wandered to some of the cargo pulleys, anchored in the stone. Those would do nicely, she thought. The pulley wouldn’t have to hold Arcaydior’s whole weight, just keep his tail hoisted. “You’d be too frightened to let us do it, anyway.”

“There’s nothing you could do that frightens me, Bar Wench.”

“Well. Then maybe you’d care to make a wager that-”

“Oh, the dog-monster’s coming back!” Esmir shot to her feet, whirling around. “I bet he feels better now that he’s all nice and clean.”

Arcaydior smiled at Mirin. “We can continue this later, if you like.”

“I just might.”

Tamriss held the magenta curtains open for Vetkol. The little urd’thin was now clad in a blue shirt that hung almost to his feet, with sleeves that nearly covered his hands. An immense, smiling sun was emblazoned across the front in bright gold, with sunbeams stretching across it. Vet’s black furred feet peeked out from beneath the shirt, and his gray-ringed tail protruded from a ragged slit in the back. His ash-tipped ears were flat as could be behind his horns. Mirin imagined he must have felt at least twice as foolish as he looked.

“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Mirin laughed to herself, downing some more wine. “How was bath time?”

“Shut the shit up.” Vetkol growled, fangs bared and burnt copper eyes narrowed. “This is all that fit-”

“Yes, Mirin Drinksy, shut up.” Esmir gave an exaggerated huff. “After all, it’s evening, not morning. How much have you been drinking?” She hopped to her feet, stumbled. and turned towards the urd’thin. Little Admiral followed her, wobbling to and fro. Esmir approached Vet, clasping her hands. “So there were children’s clothes in his hoard, after all! And don’t you just look adorable in your little happy-time sun shirt!” She tugged at the shirt, giggling like mad. “You look like a cranky puppy playing dress up with mommy’s blouse.”

“Get the hell off me!” The urd’thin flailed, knocked her hands away, then shoved past her. His gray and black tail stuck out behind him, rigid and fluffed out.

“Awww…” Esmir followed him back towards Mirin, still giggling. “I fink someone missed his nap time.”

“Keep it up, and I’m gonna start bitin’ people.”

“Awww, widdle puppy bites!” Esmir settled down alongside Mirin. “Do you think he has those little needly puppy teeth, too?”

“I ain’t yer damn puppy, Looney Bin.” The urd’thin growled, then looked around for a cup. “Think I liked it better when you were just callin’ me a dog-monster.”

“So you’re a full-grown dog monster?” Esmir drained the last of her wine. “Then why are you wearing a child’s shirt?”

“Because Lizard Bag here doesn’t have any urd’thin clothes!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Arcaydior flexed his wings in a shrug, gazing at the smaller creature. “I didn’t expect to have any tiny children visiting.” The dragon slowly cocked his head. “Will you also be requiring a diaper, little baby?”

Mirin laughed before she could stop herself.

Vetkol ignored her as he scrambled up the side of a stack of crates. “Nah, I’ll use a bucket. And when it’s full, I’m gonna dump it on your damn head while you’re asleep.”

Arcaydior unsheathed a few claws, waggling them in the air. “You do, and I’ll make you into a rug. A very tiny, little baby-sized rug.”

The urd’thin peered into the topmost crate, digging around. He replied without even glancing over at the dragon. “Yanno, last time I saw a dragon up close, it was just a head, mounted on a tavern wall. We used it for a dartboard!” Vetkol hopped back down and turned around to call out to Tamriss. “Hey, Tams? Where’s the damn cups?”

Tamriss yelled back, her voice muffled by stone halls and hanging curtains. “I’m getting you one.”

“Oh, okay. Hey, are you bringing my stuff, too?”

“Yes!” Tamriss soon returned from behind the curtains, a small wooden cup in one hand, the urd’thin’s dark green, many-pocketed vest tucked under her other arm. “I got your damn stuff.”

“There’s an idea.” Arcaydior turned his paw over, staring at his own unsheathed claws. “I could just have him stuffed.”

“Yeah, I hear you lizard-lookin’ perverts are always looking to ‘stuff’ anything that isn’t another dragon.” Vetkol grabbed his crotch, snarling at Arcaydior. “Well, stuff this, ya scaly deviant.”

Arcaydior only stared at him. “I’d have to find it, first.” He glanced at the women, smiling. “What’s that human expression, needle in a haystack?”

Mirin laughed, finishing off her wine. She got up and walked to the barrels, feeling a little light-headed. “I really don’t need more, but this is starting to get fun.”

“Yeah, I got an expression for you, dragon.” Vetkol waved at the dragon’s hind end. “All sheath and no sword!” He lowered his voice to an overloud whisper, with a hand by the side of his muzzle. “Know what I mean, ladies?”

Esmir gave him a blank look. “Not at all.”

Vetkol nudged her with an elbow. “Yanno, it’s like he’s keeping a dagger in a great-sword scabbard.” He pointed.

“Oooh!” Esmir burst into giggles. “You mean he has a very small-”

“I most certainly do not!” Arcaydior snarled, thumping his tail.

The urd’thin clapped his hands once, then pointed at the dragon with both forefingers. “You mean they’re always that small on a dragon? I guess that explains the stories about human girls. At least we know why there’s so few dragons around these days. Hard to till the soil when your plough’s too short to reach the field, am I right?”

Mirin laughed so hard she almost fell over. She stumbled, clutching her ribs with one hand. “Cut it out! You’re going to make me snort my wine!”

“And that’s how Vetkol died.” Tamriss dropped the urd’thin’s vest onto the ground near Mirin. “If you get swallowed whole, don’t expect me to come in after you.” She tossed Vet his cup. “May as well get hammered before you get eaten.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Arcaydior tossed his head. “I wouldn’t eat anything that filthy and flea-infested.” The dragon uttered a low growl. “At least not without charring it nicely first. Even then, I suspect he’d give me the runs for a week.”

Vetkol waved a hand in front of his muzzle. “Smells like you already got ‘em. And I told you, shit stain, I ain’t an ‘it’.”

Arcaydior yawned, then gestured at the smaller creature with a forepaw. “I’d make a joke about you proving it, but with fur that fluffy and bits that small, I doubt you’d be able to.”

“I’m flattered you want me outta my clothes, but I ain’t really into dragons.” Vetkol went to get himself some wine. “Hey, you ladies got any food left? I’m starving.”

“Should be plenty left.” She retrieved her gryphon feather tankard. “Get me a refill, will ya? I’ll find you something to eat.”

Vet caught the mug when Tamriss tossed it to him. “Sure thing. Thanks, Tams.”

Tamriss dragged the carrier satchel closer to where everyone was seated, then plopped herself near the others. She dug through the remaining food. “Let’s see. There’s water buffalo left, a couple pastries, some fish. Oooh, you’re in luck, Vet! Two dumplings!” She glanced at Mirin. “Those are his favorite.” Then she scrunched her face. “Unless they’re duck. Don’t ask me why, but he doesn’t like duck.”

A smile slowly inched across Mirin’s face. “You really do like the little jerk, don’t you?” When Tamriss rolled her eyes, Mirin waved her cup towards the urd’thin. He was busy filling up Tamriss’ mug, standing on his tip toes to do so. “You mentioned a partner you had a falling out with. Is that him?”

“Only partner I’ve ever had.” Tamriss set dumplings on a plate, along with slices of water buffalo and half a fried fish. “That was ages ago, though. More a stupid fight than a real falling out. Ended up stuck in the same prison again, anyway. We helped each other stay safe till we had a chance to break out.” She waggled a curry-stuffed pastry at the dragon. “But I didn’t want him catching on, so I figured I’d just exaggerate the falling out bit.”

“Yes, and a fine job you did, concealing your thieving intent.” Arcaydior flared up his red-lined frills, smiling. “Had you pegged since I first saw you in the market.”

Tamriss waved her hands over her head. “Oooh, great job, Detective! Who’d have ever guessed that the thief known for robbing dragons, was planning to rob…” She gave a mock gasp. “Another dragon!”

“Wait.” Mirin leaned forward, grinning. “You robbed dragons before?”

Vetkol returned, carrying Tamriss’s tankard. It looked immense in his hands. “How do ya think we got tossed in jail?”

“So, you tried to rob a dragon, got caught, and ended up prison?”

“Yeah, one of the other Dragon Lords.” Vetkol passed Tamriss her wine. “I think he figured it’d make him look better if he turned us over to the authorities instead of just eating us.”

“Or he knew you’d make him sick.” Arcaydior snorted. “Serves you right. Perhaps I should take you both back there and return you to jail.”

“Please do!” Tamriss only smiled at the dragon. “I’d be free of you, and we could just break out again, anyway.”

“How unfortunate for you then, that I’d rather make you my servants, than some rival city’s prisoners.” Arcaydior stretched his paws.

“Let me get this straight.” Mirin took a sip, appraising both thieves. “You tried to rob a dragon, and failed. You got caught, put in jail, and managed to escape. And yet immediately after breaking out, you decided to do the same stupid thing all over again?”

“Not immediately.” Vetkol snorted, then tasted the brambleberry wine. “Ooooooh, that’s niiiiiice.” He licked his muzzle and smiled at Mirin. “We waited a couple years to try again.”

“Besides.” Tamriss pushed Vetkol’s plate of food over to him. “You know what they say about trying and not succeeding at first.”

Mirin thumped Tamriss on the shoulder. “Yes. Find a new line of work.”

“D’ya know what I’d like to know?” Esmir made herself comfortable near the others. Little Admiral skittered up her, and settled atop the princess’ head.

Vetkol splayed his ears, staring at Little Admiral. “I’m gonna guess you’re wondering why there’s a lizard on your head?”

“No, silly.” Esmir shook her head, and Little Admiral did the same. “I want to know about you.” She picked up her dragon’s maw drinking vessel, and then wiggled it at the urd’thin. “Are you naked under that shirt, or what?”

“I got pants on!” Vetkol folded his arms, and gnashed his teeth.

“He’s got part of pants on.” Tamriss smirked at the smaller creature, then ruffled the fur between his ears. “The top part, at least.”

“I had to cut ‘em down cause they wouldn’t fit mah legs.”

“Nothing short of child-size would.” Arcaydior drummed his fingers against the stone floor.

“It’s not even that.” Vetkol shoved a slice of roasted water buffalo into his muzzle, speaking around it as he chewed. “Urd’thin legs ain’t designed the same as humans.” He swallowed, then picked up a dumpling and waved it at the princess. “Seriously. What’s with the lizard?”

“This is Little Admiral!” Esmir reached up, offering her a tiny morsel of food. “What’s with the vest?”

“That didn’t answer anything. At all.”

Mirin leaned towards the urd’thin. “You’d best get used to it. She’s in-scoopable.”

Esmir giggled like mad.

Vetkol just stared. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, you’re stuck here for six months with an entire cadre of assholes.” Tamriss ruffled his fur again. “Welcome to the club, Vet.”

“Yeah, thanks. Great.”

“So. Guess I could formally introduce you.” Tamriss pointed to each person. “We’ve got Drinksy, Princess Fairy Tale, Admiral Ass Scales, and me. You all, this is Vetkol.”

“And this is Little Admiral!” Esmir pointed to the lizard.

“So you said.” Vet ate half the dumpling, groaning happily. “Oooh, that’s good.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to call me Drinksy, too.” Mirin set her mug aside. “My name’s Mirin.” She jerked her thumb at the princess. “Her name’s Esmir.”

The dragon lifted his head, arching his neck. “And you may refer to me as Lord-”

“So what’s in all these pockets?” Esmir reached for the urd’thin’s still-muddy vest, strewn on the floor. Long, even lines of pockets spanned it, their golden edging peeking through the dirt.

“Hey!” Vetkol jumped up to snatch it away from her. “That’s my stuff.”

“I thought you were going to wash your clothes, too?” Mirin leaned down to scrape some mud off a pocket’s protective flap.

“I’ll do that later. I gotta dig all my stuff out before I can wash this, anyway.” Vetkol smoothed the vest on the floor, then flopped down next to it.

Tamriss nudged the bulging garment with her shoe. “Vet here always carries so much random junk around with him, that his vest weighs more than he does.”

“I do not!”

Arcaydior snorted. “A dry leaf likely weighs more than he does.”

“He’s probably carrying a few dried leaves in his pockets now, actually.”

Vet glared at Tamriss. “Those were medicinal and you know it!”

Tamriss chuckled, shrugging. “Hey, I was just implying you collect useless crap.” She leaned forward and grabbed the bottom of his vest. “I got an idea. Let’s play a game called, What’s in Vet’s Pockets.”

“Oooh!” Esmir clapped her hands. Little Admiral flopped over on her head to clap her own front feet together. “I love games!”

“I know you do.” Tamriss glanced over at her, then scratched her cheek. “Actually, maybe I shoulda thought this through.”

“Is it a guessing game?” Esmir moved onto her hands and knees, and was soon feeling pockets and pouches. “There’s something hard in this one! Metal, maybe? Oh, and this one’s got something crunchy in it. How do I win?” She popped a pocket open and shoved her hand inside. “Oooh, this one’s got cold metal. Loops, I think?”

Vetkol grabbed at the vest, trying to yank it back. “Quit playin’ with my junk!”

Tamriss burst out laughing, and slapped the urd’thin on the back. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear you say!”

Vet snapped his teeth. “Shut it! It just came out wrong before I could think better of it!”

Tamriss only laughed harder. “Isn’t that how it usually works?”

“Only when you’re involved! No, wait, that didn’t come out right either!”

“I don’t know, Vet.” Mirin swirled her wine in her mug, giggling. “It’s starting to sound like you might have a problem. Perhaps you should see a physician.”

“Hey!” The black and gray urd’thin snarled at her. “Tams gets to make jokes! You? I dunno you, so you can shut your booze hole!”

Mirin arched a brow, taking a drink. “Shut my booze hole? Yeah, you and Tamriss are made for each other.”

“Eh.” Vetkol shrugged. “Anything smart she says, she probably stole from me.” He plopped himself down on his vest, folding his arms. “Now everyone quit playin’ with my…I mean…uh…quit grabbin’ at my goodies. No, wait!” Tamriss snorted and Vetkol hissed through sharp teeth. “Damn. Fine, fine.” He flashed Tamriss a grin, and scooted back off his pocketed vest. “I’ll let you play with my stuff, Tams.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to turn it around.”

“So what’s in here, then?” The princess pulled out a collection of small, interconnected metal loops, examining them.

“My brass knuckles!” Vetkol yanked them away from her, and shoved them onto his fingers. “See?”

“Those aren’t brass.” Mirin set her mug aside, and crouched down to inspect them. “Bronze, maybe.”

“It’s a term!” Vetkol turned his hand over, flexing his furry fingers. “Like sky-crawlers. They aren’t actually crawlin’. My father used to call ‘em sky-ships, but no one really calls ‘em airships, cause-”

“I’ve called them airships,” Mirin said. “Lots of people do. Even if the ship portion is really just-”

“Professor Drinksy calls a lot of things funny names.” Tamriss reached down to open a pocket, then paused, brushing her fingers across the emerald flap. “How many of these have sharp things in them?”

Vetkol flashed his teeth at her. “Most of ‘em!”

“This one has a spider in it.” Esmir lifted her hand. A slender gray spider with spindly golden legs crawled over her fingers. “Hello, little dog monster’s pet spider!”

“I ain’t a dog monster, and that ain’t my pet.” Vetkol flattened his ears, growling.

“You know what amuses me?” Tamriss stared at the spider crawling up Esmir’s arm. “Not long ago, you were wearing that spider-filled vest.”

“It ain’t filled with spiders! That’s the only-”

“This pocket has spiders in it, too.” Esmir opened another pocket, and a few more of them scurried out, running in all directions.

Tamriss scooted back. “Gods, Vet, are you raising a family in there?”

Vetkol scratched one oversized ear. “Huh. They musta crawled in there last night when I was asleep.”

Mirin prodded another pocket to be certain it didn’t have anything living in it. “Now I wonder what else you’re crawling with.”

Arcaydior snorted. “Parasites, probably.” The dragon licked his bowl clean. “I hope your owner went over you with a fine-toothed comb during your bath, and pulled all the fleas and ticks she found buried under your fur.”

“She ain’t my owner, and I ain’t got any-”

“Mistress, then, whatever the preferred term is.” Arcaydior rose up, carrying his bowl in his jaws to the casks.

“Partner! We’re partners.”

“Given the way she bosses you around, I find that difficult to believe.” The dragon unsheathed a single claw, and used it to open the spigot, pouring more wine.

“To be fair, she tries to boss everyone around.” Mirin smirked at Tamriss, then shot the dragon a glare. “But so do you.”

“Exactly.” Arcaydior circled a paw in the air. “Because I am the Lord of the land. It’s my right to boss you all around. And if the thief is the urd’thin’s owner, it’s her right to boss him around.” The dragon glanced back, head cocked and frills splayed in smug amusement. “Which makes the mutt the lowest ranking person here. Congratulations thief, you have a servant of your own.”

Tamriss clapped her hands, then pumped a fist. “Yes! Finally moving up in the world.”

Mirin pulled out a bunch of circular wooden chits from another pocket. “This one’s got money in it.” She held one up to the lamplight, staring at it. “Something looks off.”

“That’s cause those are from down south.” Vetkol crawled over to try and snatch them away from her.

“No, it’s because they’re counterfeit.” Mirin held one out of reach.

“Says who?” Vet grabbed the others away and pushed them right back into the same pocket.

“Says the face carved on one side that shouldn’t be smiling.” Mirin plopped the last chit onto the urd’thin’s head. “The single denomination chit smiles. The twenty-five does not.”

“Maybe in yer city.” Vet shoved it back into the pocket with the others, then closed it up to prevent any further examination.

“In all cities.” Mirin felt around another part of his vest. “Since they’re issued by the Warden. The city-states mint their own coins, but the chits are Warden’s Authority, all across The Mire. Which means they all have to be the same. Those are clearly fake. They’re good forgeries, but not perfect.”

“Baaaaarrhh!” The urd’thin made a frustrated growling sound, waving his hand at her. “They’re only practice, anyway. I was bored!”

“Vet.” Tamriss poked the urd’thin’s nose. “We talked about this. You’re only supposed to carve the small value chits. No one pays any attention to those. People look closer at the higher denominations.”

“But I can’t buy shit to drink with a single chit, and they take forever to carve!” Vet slapped Tamirss’ hand away. “If I’m gonna spend the effort, I gotta make sure I can use ‘em.”

“Then you’d better learn to do it right before you get tossed in jail.” Mirin took a drink. “Again.”

A wobbly flash of green scooted across the floor near Esmir. The princess gasped and shook her finger. “Little Admiral, stop that at once! Those aren’t your spiders!”

While the others were talking, the lizard had spotted the various spiders that scurried from the urd’thin’s pockets. She darted after one, wobbling as she made several poorly-aimed attempts to consume the spider. Finally, she got her jaws around it. She snapped it up and gulped it down, stumbling to the side.

Esmir clapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Vetkol! Little Admiral is drunk, you have to understand she didn’t mean to-”

Vetkol gave her a baffled look, his large, gray-tipped ears swiveled to odd angles. “What loss?”

“Of your beloved pet spider, Mister Wigglelegs!”

The urd’thin just stared at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? That ain’t my spider, and that sure as hell wouldn’t be its name if it was!”

Mirin put a hand on the urd’thin’s shoulder. “Don’t mind the princess. She lives in her own little fairy tale.”

Ignoring them both, Esmir crawled after the small lizard. “That’s enough! You’ve had more than enough to eat, today. You’re going to give yourself a tummy ache! Little Admiral, are you listening?” Esmir reached out to try and grab the lizard, only for the smaller creature to wobble away again. “You leave Mister Wigglelegs and Mister Wigglelegs alone!”

Vetkol scratched under one of his horns. “I thought the one she ate was called that?”

Esmir glanced back. “They’re all called Mister Wigglelegs. Spiders aren’t very creative with their names. Except the girl spiders, of course. They’re not called Mister Anything.”

“Lemme guess,” Mirin said. “Miss Wigglelegs?”

Esmir stared back at her, confusion twisting her features. “What sort of silly name would that be?” She turned her attention back to the lizard, following on hands and knees. “No, female spiders are called Susan.”

“Okay, okay.” Vetkol fetched a pillow and dropped it onto the floor. He flopped onto it, glancing around at all the others. “Which one of you knocked her in the head?”

“Actually, there’s an idea.” Tamriss took a long drink of wine, watching the princess crawl after the lizard. “Maybe if we knock her in the head, all those loose pieces’ll finally fit together.”

“Then she’d be awfully boring.” Arcaydior returned when his drinking bowl was full. He carried it over in a forepaw, moving slowly on his other three limbs to avoid sloshing wine everywhere. He set the bowl down, and curled himself around it. “If she was some normal, stuffy princess, I’d have traded her away already.”

Mirin twisted around to the dragon. “You kept her for the same reason the other dragons wanted to be rid of her? That’s sort of nice, actually.”

“Nonsense.” Esmir finally scooped up the lizard, cradling the little thing against her chest like a baby. She rejoined the group, and settled near Vetkol’s gear. “Arcy kept me because he was lonely!”

The dragon only stared at her. “Liar. I kept you because you were entertaining.”

“Boredom, loneliness, ‘care for your captor syndrome’, it’s all the same thing.” Esmir set the lizard back atop her head. “So, let’s get back to seeing what else the little dog-monster has in his pockets.”

“You gotta stop callin’ me that!” Vet tugged his bushy tail around, kneading at a ring of gray fur amidst all the black. “And be careful, some of those pockets have-”

“Knives!” Esmir drew two short, iron blades out from one of the urd’thin’s many vest pockets. She brandished one in each hand. “Oh, they never let me play with knives back home!” She thrust one into an imaginary foe. “Have at thee, safety regulations!”

“You carry knives in your pockets?” Mirin raised her brows, then gently disarmed Esmir. “Let’s put these down, dear.”

Vetkol flicked his gray-ringed tail. “If you think those are fun, you should see what I keep next to them.”

“Oooh, let’s find out!” Esmir popped the button and opened the pocket. She shoved her hand in, and pulled out a small, wood and brass pistol. “Oooh, there’s a gun inside!” She promptly pointed it at Arcaydior. “Bang! You’re dead, Arcy.”

“Yes.” The dragon glared at her, his voice flat. “Hilarious. Now stop pointing that at me.”

“Careful!” Vet hissed through his teeth. “That’s loaded, yanno.”

“What?” Mirin immediately reached for the weapon, only for Esmir to scoot out of reach.

“No, Mirin Drinksy, you took the knives, so I get to look at this one first.” She turned it over in her hands. “You can fondle the dog monster’s junk in a moment.”

“Bahahaha.” Tamriss folded her arms, grinning. “You walked right into that one.”

“You’re carrying a loaded pistol in your vest?” Mirin gaped at the urd’thin, keeping careful watch on Esmir to make sure she didn’t point it at anyone else, including herself. “You’re going to kill yourself!”

“Ah. quit yer bitching.” Vetkol waved her off. “It’s got a safety. Besides, the whole point is that I can yank it out and fire it in an instant.”

“Do you even realize how dangerous-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Madame Safety!” The urd’thin held his hands up. “Should I wait till the next time someone’s stranglin’ me to death before I load it?” He raised his voice to a rasping croak. “Hey! I know yer tryin’ to kill me, but can you give me a few minutes to load this old pistol so I can stop you? Thanks!”

Mirin grimaced, rubbing her neck. “Point taken, I suppose, but shouldn’t you at least carry it in a holster?”

“It’s a concealed weapon!” The urd’thin threw his hands up, tail swishing. “That’s the whole point! It’s concealed! It’s gotta be in a pocket I can reach with either arm!”

“Is it really loaded?” Esmir lifted the weapon closer to her face.

Mirin snatched it away from her while she was distracted. “Since I have a terrible feeling you’re about to stare into the barrel, I’m taking this. Let’s just assume it’s ready to fire at any moment.” She made sure the safety catch was engaged, then placed the weapon onto the highest shelf she could reach. “There. It stays there until it’s time for us to leave.”

Vetkol rolled his eyes, scratching at a horn. “Like I can’t climb up there and get it.”

Arcaydior shook his wedge-shaped head. “The Bar Wench is right. None of you need to play with loaded firearms. If anything, she should unload it.”

“I would have.” Mirin dusted her hands off as she walked back to the others. “But that thing’s in bad shape. I was afraid it would go off in my hands.”

Tamriss nudged the urd’thin, grinning. “Bet she’s said that plenty of times before.”

“Hah!” Vetkol barked laughter. “I like how she think that’s the only dangerous thing I’ve got in my pockets.”

Mirin shot the urd’thin a glare. “Well you certainly haven’t got anything dangerous in your pants.”

“Hey!” Vetkol growled at her, but the sound soon died. “Wait, that an insult, or a compliment? Are you saying it’s small, or that I don’t have any venereal diseases? Cause it’s not, and I don’t.”

“I find both those things exceedingly hard to believe.” Mirin nudged his vest with the toe of her boot. “Alright, out with it.”

Vetkol blinked, his ears slowly flattening back. He glanced down at himself. “What, here? Now? In front of everyone?”

“Not it.” Mirin rubbed her forehead, sighing. “All the other dangerous things you’re carrying.”

“Oh. Right. Lessee.” Vetkol moved onto his hands and knees and began extracting all manner of things from the pouches and pockets of his vest. “Knife. Blackjack. Poison vials. Poison droppers. Ooh, this is a good one.” He pulled another, even smaller pistol free. This one had iron rings built into the handle, and a blade affixed beneath the barrel. “S’gun, a knife, and brass knuckles all in one. Pretty great, right?”

“Again, those aren’t brass.”

“Again, it’s a term!” He set the amalgamated weapon aside. “This one ain’t loaded, though.”

“Thank God for that.”

“What else we got?” He pulled a heavy looking pouch free from an oversized pocket. “Black powder.”

“You have black powder?” Mirin reached for the bag, but Vetkol clutched it to his chest. “Where did you even get that?”

“Ain’t tellin’.”

“You know that’s illegal, right? Civilians aren’t allowed to even possess it.”

“Oh, really?” Vetkol gasped, staring at the pouch with wide eyes. “Oh no, Tams, I’m breakin’ the law! I guess I better just throw away all my guns and bombs because I’m not allowed to have powder or charges!”

Mirin scowled, hands on her hips. “How many guns do you…wait, did you say bombs?”

“Oh yeah.” Vet set the powder aside, and retrieved three small cast iron bomb casings, each kept in its own bulging pocket. He pulled lengths of fuse from another pocket. “Just a couple small ones, though.”

“Those are…” Mirin crouched down, examining one of the rough spheres. “These don’t look very old. Did you-”

“I made ‘em!” Vetkol scratched the back of his neck. “Well, had ‘em made. They ain’t filled, right now.”

“Thank god for that, because these look incredibly-”

“Badass?” Vetkol picked one up, turning it over in his hands. He beamed, fangs displayed and ears perked. “I know!”

“Incredibly volatile!”

“Of course, they’re volatile.” Vetkol set it down, splaying his ears. “They’re bombs.”

“I meant unsafe! Do you know how…how…” Mirin struggled for words she couldn’t quite find. “Dangerous those are?”

“I hope they’re dangerous, they’re-”

“Bombs, I know!” Mirin stomped a boot as she straightened up. “Do you realize how stupid it is to be carrying those around?”

Vetkol tilted his head, smiling up at her. “Do you realize how annoying you are?”

“Oh, gods.” Mirin flopped back onto a cushion, sighing. She glanced at Tamriss. “You and he are the same damn person.”

“Nah.” Vetkol waved his hand. “I’m way more attractive than Tams is.”

“So is Arcaydior’s ass.” Mirin snorted, then waved at the urd’thin’s ever growing pile of dangerous things. “I should put all of that out of your reach.”

“Hey!” Tamriss punched Mirin on the shoulder hard enough to make her yelp. “I thought we had a truce here!”

Mirin grimaced, rubbing her aching shoulder. “Sorry. Your furry little friend seems to be drawing out the worst in me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it, and not all that wine you’ve been guzzling.”

The dragon rumbled, thumping his tail against the floor. “I assume you meant that as a compliment?”

“Oh, yeah, Scales.” Tamriss made a shooing gesture as if trying to get him to leave. “Drinksy just really likes dragon ass.” She rolled her eyes.

Mirin chuckled and gazed into her nearly empty gnoll-carved mug. Maybe she’d drank more than she realized. “You may have a point about the wine. I think I’m done.”

“Already? Who Arcaydior gave a sigh of feigned frustration.

“Tell you what, dragon.” Tamriss pushed herself up to her feet, as well. “We’ll stop now, a few drinks short of a retching hangover, and some night soon, we’ll get good and plastered with you. But you gotta get so drunk you’ll do any naughty thing we say.”

Arcaydior lifted his head, his ears perked. “Oh?”

“Yeah, why not. Live it up, right?” Tamriss turned away, and mouthed the word paddle to Mirin. “But if you expect us to get that drunk, you gotta get there first.”

“Oh, Arcy’s good at getting drunk.” Esmir giggled, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Is everyone drunk but me?” Vetkol gave a frustrated snarl. “I ain’t even buzzed yet!”

“Nor will you be.” Mirin stood over him, sharpening her voice. “Not till you’ve carefully removed everything volatile, sharp, explosive, corrosive, poisonous, toxic, or dangerous in any other way from all of your clothing. And until it’s safely stowed away. Then and only then will you be allowed to get drunk.”

Vetkol gave her a mock salute, sneering. “Yes Ma’am, Madame Safety!” Then he snapped his teeth, and grabbed at his crotch through his oversized blue shirt. “I got somethin’ volatile for ya, right here.”

“Oh, set off that easily, are you?” Mirin tilted her head. “I hope you haven’t packed your trousers full of bombs, too, or you might blow us all to hell grabbing yourself like that.”

“I ain’t goin’ to hell.” Vet shrugged and went back to digging things out of his vest. “I’m an angel.”

Mirin shook her head, trying not to laugh. “On that note, I think I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, no.” Tamriss grabbed her hand. “Who’s gonna take care of all this dangerous stuff? If you let Vet do it he’s just gonna stick it back in his vest.”

“Fair point.” Mirin smiled at the other woman. “He’s your partner, why don’t you oversee it?” She glanced towards Arcaydior. “How drunk are you?”

Arcaydior shrugged his wings. “Lightly inebriated?”

“Good enough, I suppose.” She waved towards Vetkol and his hazardous belongings. “Can you help Tamriss ensure all this gets put away safely?”

“Very well.”

“Thank you.” Mirin gave everyone a wave as she walked towards her bed on the far side of the room. “Good night, everyone. Do try not to explode yourselves. I’d hate to imagine how much paperwork I’d have to do.”

*****

Chapter Eleven

The Smoke That Seeks

*****

Sunbird strode alone through sterile white corridors. Cold tingles lingered just beneath her pinfeathers. The distress call and its crimson beacon brought back memories from the end of her time in captivity. Lately, those memories surfaced mostly in the tangled reality of dreams, never quite right and all the more unsettling for it. Now, though, those memories drifted through her waking mind, unbidden.

She had grown up in a place like this. Sunbird was born amidst snow-colored halls, sterile, scrubbed air, and crystalline displays. Forgetting what happened to Mother and her there was impossible, though Sunbird sometimes wished she could. Other times, she clutched those horrible memories to her soul, and drew strength from the pain.

At the lift, Sunbird pressed her forepaw to the identification plate. Light flickered under her pads, and she stepped inside when the gate opened. Sunbird tensed as the lift rose. Her claw tips slipped free. She ground her beak, frustrated by her own nervousness. She could face down an entire army without fear, yet when riding lifts and sky-crawlers, her stomach wrapped itself around her spine.

When the lift stopped and the gates opened, the gryphon took a deep breath, composing herself. As she exited, she offered the guards a respectful bow. They returned the gesture, despite the heavy charge packs powering their arc protection suits. Sunbird reminded herself she really needed to bring back some upgraded models from across The Bridge.

Sunbird returned to the Hall of Feathers and Talons to find that the meeting of Flight Captains was over. Dozens of servants in gray and blue uniforms scurried around, scrubbing the floor. The table was once more upright. Scuffs marred it. Fissures in the dark wood provided lingering evidence of Sunbird’s anger. A few carpenters were discussing the damaged table in hushed voices.

Most of the gryphons were gone now, including Jikir. Sunbird clicked her beak, wondering if he would choose to remain in his position while his injuries healed. The fire she glimpsed in his eyes told her Jikir had heart enough to stay the course. Sunbird hoped he did, the Flight Captains could use more fiery youth amongst their ranks.

Other than the servants only Carrus and the The Warden remained. They spoke in soft, measured tones. Sunbird approached them, shooing the servants away with flourish of her wing. “Over already? I didn’t think I was gone that long.”

Carrus gave an irritable chirrup, tilting his head. “The meeting was nearly over before you even arrived, General.”

Sunbird only cooed, nuzzling at Carrus’s blue-feathered throat. “Aww, don’t be grouchy, just because you’re too old to mate.”

Carrus gave her head a playful shove. “I assure you, that is not the case.”

“Oh?” Sunbird walked a slow circle around him, brushing her wings, and feathered tail against his body. “Perhaps you should visit my chambers later to prove it. We could both use the relaxation.”

Carrus fluffed up his midnight blue and silver feathers, though whether in indignation or interest, Sunbird could not easily tell. The older gryphon always bathed in water filled with so many perfumed soaps and herbs it left all sorts of scents clinging to his feathers. Even now, he smelt like flowers and spice and fruit. The aromas were pleasing but smothered his natural scents. Sunbird knew that was exactly why he did it. It was an old gryphon trick to disguise any hints to his mood and intent.

“You really have missed me.” The male gryphon narrowed his crimson eyes, but the hint of a smile parted his beak. “Wasn’t certain we were quite that close, General.” He perked his ears. “But how am I to know I won’t end up like poor Jikir?”

Sunbird set a forepaw upon his chest, tracing a few circles through the silken fur. She trailed her fingertips down across his belly, just enough to make him shiver. “I’d never hurt you, Carrus, unless you asked nicely. But if you’re not interested, that’s fine.” Sunbird turned towards The Warden, caressing his cheek with her finger pads. She could have held his entire head in her paw, if she wished it. “I’ll just take The Warden back for fun, instead.”

The Warden gave a deep, bellowing laugh. “You’d break me in half.”

“Not all of you.” Sunbird smiled, then settled on her haunches and turned her attention to preening. She stretched a stretched a golden wing forward, grooming it’s black-edged flight feathers. “So, what interesting things were we discussing?”

“Carrus believes we should nominate a few new dragons for lordship.” The Warden scratched at the graying invaders in his close-cropped beard.

“Why?” Sunbird pulled a loose feather free. She spat it away from the others, to avoid any insulting implications. “What have the existing ones done while I was away?”

“Nothing.” Carrus shifted his weight, fluffing up. “I’m not suggesting replacement, only addition. There are a number of settlements that have recently grown large enough to qualify for city-state status, for example one within my region of command. They have a lot of resources, but currently, little refinement capability. If we were to help them build some factories, or refineries, in return for offering them the Warden’s official recognition, and all its benefits-”

“The point, Carrus.” Sunbird dislodged another loose plume, stretched her neck, and stuck it into Carrus’ feathers. “Find it, won’t you?”

Carrus plucked the golden quill, rolling it between his pads. “They’re ripe fruit for plucking. We put a loyal dragon in as their lord, who supervises their new infrastructure, and then we allow them to sell their fuels and other products to the other city-states. The dragon also negotiates purchases for us at a reduced rate, and taxes them for us at a fair margin. Everyone benefits. The city grows wealthier, and there’s more valuable resources to go around.”

Sunbird folded her wing back. “A reasonable idea, Carrus, if over-explained.” She glanced at the Warden. “Thoughts?”

The Warden shrugged. “I like it. The more we refine ourselves, the less we have to purchase from across The Bridge. And the more loyalty we create amongst the growing cities, the better prepared they’ll be to follow orders if there’s ever trouble.”

“I agree.” Sunbird drummed claw tips against the finger. “Though the more our refinery capability grows, the more we will need to monitor…” She cast the Warden a knowing look. “Air quality, and the like. But we’ll adjust output as necessary, for now.” She returned her attention to Carrus. “I take it you have a dragon in mind?”

Carrus bowed his head. “I do, yes. As I was telling the Warden, I’ve assembled a list of a half-dozen candidates whom-”

“I don’t need life stories, Carrus, just pertinent details.” The Warden waved the gryphon off. “Recommend a dragon, and send their file to my slate.”

The indigo gryphon ruffled himself, sighing. “Very well. I…” He gave Sunbird a sidelong glance. “May have to request the General’s assistance with that.”

Sunbird warbled laughter, patting his paw. “Gods, Carrus, they’re not that complicated. It’s like trying to teach someone’s grandfather how sky-crawlers work.”

“After you’ve decided,” The Warden said, fighting back a smile. “Take part of your Flight, and deliver the contracts to the city, and to the dragon in person. Make a show of force, but do so respectfully.” He poked the gryphon’s indigo feathered chest, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “And try to pick a loyal dragon, this time.”

Carrus stiffened, huffing. “That wasn’t my fault. That whole city convinced him to turn against us! Not to mention that former Flight Captain-”

“Is now rotting in a cell, where he belongs.” Sunbird nuzzled Carrus, brushing her beak against his throat. “I trust your judgement Carrus, it’s just far more fun to tease you.”

The Warden tapped Sunbird on the beak. “You can tease Captain Carrus after you tell me if I should be worried, or not.” He jerked his thumb towards the hidden door. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, can I?” Sunbird gave a warble of mock excitement. “Did you hear that, old bird?” She stretched a wing and draped it across Carrus. “I get to tease you, after all!” She turned her attention back to the Warden, her voice hardening. “I don’t think you need to worry, but I cannot say for certain. I think Lord Arcaydior has been playing toys that were never properly confiscated, but I’m going to pay him a visit to be sure.”

The Warden nodded. “You don’t expect to have to replace him, do you?”

Sunbird shrugged her wings. “I doubt it, although…There was a distress signal activated.” Sunbird unsheathed her claws, grinding their tips into the stone floor. “From an old slate, most likely. I don’t think it managed to connect to anywhere outside The Mire, but I can’t entirely prove no one heard its call. I believe it was likely accidental, but I think I’ll confiscate it for analysis just the same.”

“You said his name was Arcaydior?” The Warden folded his arms. “It sounds familiar.”

“He’s a holdover, one of the ones we kept after you took office.” She glanced at Carrus, who remained silent. The blue gryphon had been one of her first allies here. He had backed The Warden and her before they ever took power. “Rather like Carrus, here. Though, Arcaydior had a few other red flags, but he’s proven himself loyal.” She clicked her beak. “Or done a fine job faking it. Either way, I’ll send you his files before I head out in the morning.”

“So soon?” Carrus gave a worried warble. “You’re only just returned.”

“I know.” Sunbird flattened her ears. “And I’d planned to rest, and relax a while.” She shifted closer to Carrus, and set her paw atop his. “Preferably, with you.”

Carrus lifted his ears, smiling. “I would not be averse to a little shared time off.”

“Oh, Gods, Carrus.” The Warden ran a hand down his face. “Quit trying her patience, you damn overcivilized city bird, and just give her what she wants!”

“Overcivilized city bird?” Carrus gave a loud, indignant squawk. “That’s rich, coming from a human!” Then he blinked, lowering his head. “Erm. Warden.”

Sunbird only laughed, shaking herself. “He’s right, Carruss, you’ve become ever so civilized in the long years you’ve spent here. But that’s alright, it’s endearing.” She palmed his cheek. “I need to take care of this Arcaydior business, and then, if you’ll allow, I’d like to take you somewhere…” She trailed off, swallowing. There were a thousand-fold secrets she wanted to share with Carrus, but now was not the time. “Special.”

Carrus returned her smile, blithely unaware of just what she was truly offering to share with him. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Sunbird bumped her beak against his, rising to all fours. “Then it’s plan. Until then, I need a bath, and some rest.” She turned away, brushing her tail across Carrus’s face. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for both?”

Carrus stared at her, his smile slowly growing. “You know what, General? I believe I shall.”

Sunbird nibbled his neck as he joined her, then purred into his ear. “Good boy.”

*****

Red light flashed in the darkness. Alarm sirens shattered the silence. Distance muffled terrified screams in faraway places. Lirra flattened herself against the floor of her cell, peering through the barred vent. Beyond the strobing crimson, shadows gathered at the end of white corridors. There were more screams, closer now. Lirra’s heart hammered. Dread tingled at the base of each and every feather.

What was happening?

Even on the day Mother had torn some of their captors apart, no crimson beacons flashed. No wailing alarms sounded. Whatever this was? This was different. This was worse.

Guards ran down the hallway, with auto-rifles raised and armor deployed. They vanished into the darkness. Weapons fire rang out, over and over. Screams followed, and then nothing. Silence broken only by the alarms. Lirra pressed against the vent, trying to see what was happening. Her breath came in short, ragged pants. An acrid smell infiltrated the stale air of her cell, like something burning in the circulators.

More men ran past her, towards end of the hall. These wore full arc protection suits, powered on. They were awash in a wavering blue glow that would repel almost any projectile, for as long as their suits held power. They carried the equivalent weapons, powerful arc casters with energy and force enough to punch through almost anything.

Lirra shifted position, jamming her head against the bars for a better view down the hallway. At the end of it, smoke drifted in wandering coils. It moved and shifted like a living thing; the tendrils of some fathomless creature from the great void between worlds, a thing that should not exist in this place. As the men drew near it, coils of smoke shifted, turning towards them.

Examining them.

They couldn’t see it. To them, they saw only smoke. But Lirra saw more. Lirra saw something alive, something dangerous. She wanted to call out to them, to warn them to turn back, but she could not find her voice. Lirra gasped and managed only a croaking groan lost amidst the wailing alarms. Tendrils of smoke slithered through the air like curious serpents, tilting and twisting back and forth, appraising the incoming guards.

All at once, one of the smoke-things lashed out at the nearest man. It struck him, and in a silent, horrifying instant, he was gone. He disintegrated into nothing more than charred, blackened dust without even a scream. The dust swirled across the ground, swept up into the cloud of smoke like some horrible, deathly sandstorm. The rest of the guards opened fire as they reached the end of the corridor. Blue-white flashes lit the hallway along with shuddering, artificial thunder, as arc-lightning crackled between them and some unseen foe. One after another, each man was obliterated in the same, silent fashion. More and more blackened grit joined the clouds. In terrified silence, Lirra wondered if there were no smoke at all, just ash giving shape to the unseen.

The last man charged around the corner at the end of the hallway, out of sight. He screamed in fury, and then again in terror. There were distant flashes and thunder-rumbles as he fired, again and again. One final, piercing shriek followed, ending in a gurgle. Then silence. A piece of the guard was hurled back down the hallway, trailing blood. It tumbled across the floor and came to a stop just before Lirra’s cell. A piece of his arc-suit armor still clung to what was left of him. A line of evenly spaced crystalline studs flickered, and then went dark.

Lirra screamed and scrambled back from the vent of her cell. She screamed and screamed, even as something in the distance called her name.

Sunbird!

Sunbird!

That…that wasn’t…

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, sharp and loud. Something, or someone, at the center of the smoke was looking for her. Coming for her. Her cell door was torn away, and beyond it lay only stars, and oblivion. She screamed again.

Something grasped her, shook her forcefully.

Lirra awoke with a scream, jumping to all fours on her grand bed, claws unsheathed. Another gryphon, dark blue and silver, scrambled away, red eyes wide and crown feathers flared. Lirra panted, looking around. She turned a circle, her heart still thundering against her sternum.

“Where am I? What is this place?”

“It’s your sleeping chamber, General. Your room, in the palace.” The other gryphon kept a wary distance, but his voice was soft, and even. “You’re alright, Lirra, you’re alright now.”

Lirra turned again, confusion weighing against her mind like a leaden blanket. Morning sunlight streamed in through glittering crystalline windows. An immense bookshelf in burled ebony wood occupied a long wall of the expansive chamber. An archway in a stone wall led towards a massive, marble tub with copper piping. A desk and lounging chair designed for a gryphon occupied another part of the room. Lirra stood upon a sturdy-frame bed, layered with blankets and pillows.

“Is…is this real?” She took a few sharp, panting breaths, her belly tight, her paws cold. Lingering dread collected at the base of her crown feathers, poured down her spine in icy rivulets. “Where…where is it?” Her eyes darted about, searching for any sign of the smoke that sought her. “He’s coming for me! He’s coming for them!”

“Of course, it’s real.” The midnight blue gryphon held up a single paw towards her. “Lay down, Lirra, lay down. You’re safe, no one’s coming for you.”

Her legs wobbled. She flopped onto her belly, trying to catch her breath. Reality pieced itself back together inside her head, once more replacing the illusion of dream. She stared at her golden paws a moment, then tilted her head back, gazing up at the midnight blue male who had been sharing her bed. She struggled to place him, but that memory soon clicked back into place.

Carrus. That was his name. They were…

“Carrus?” She swallowed, struggling to get control. “Carrus, where are we? When is this? The date! Date and location, Carrus…”

Carrus took a step towards her, confusion flattening his ears and crown fears. “General?”

“Just…” Lirra held a paw up, taking a slow breath. “Please. It helps center me, Carrus.”

“It’s the fourteenth day of Summer’s End, year 412 since the Founding. We’re in Inner Redemption, in The Mire.” Carrus reached towards her, and when she did not shoo away his paw, gently smoothed back her feathers. “General Sunbird…Lirra. Are you alright?”

General Sunbird. That was her, now. The name, the date, the location, they all helped the pieces of her consciousness assemble themselves again. Connections were made, memories recalled, and reality reassembled from the broken fragments of a tangled dream.

“I’m…I’m alright, Carrus.” Sunbird took a deep breath, and held it till her lungs burned. “I’m sorry.” She swallowed and grit her beak, flattening her ears. “I was…dreaming, I think. He was coming for me. He’s…” She shivered, feathers fluffed. “It wasn’t like that, in reality, but when I dream of it, he’s always coming for me.”

Carrus settled onto his belly, and stroked her head with both forepaws. “Who’s coming for you, General?”

Sunbird tilted her head into his touch. The simple comfort helped to ease the last of her lingering fear. Carrus scooted closer to gently preen her neck, and shoulders. She closed her eyes and savored his affection. “The Smoke That Seeks. That’s what I’ve taken to calling him. Though, I…” She swallowed. “I doubt it’s even a ‘him’. More…more an entity. But that’s what I call him, The Smoke That Seeks. I saw him, on the day I met the god.”

Carrus went still, save for the nervous swiveling of his ears. “Somedays, I wonder why I keep asking you these questions.”

“And yet, you’ll keep asking, anyway.” Sunbird leaned her head against him. “No matter how strange, or terrifying my answers may be. That…means something to me, Carrus.” She returned his affection, preening his neck. “And it means even more, that no matter how crazy I may sound, you actually believe me.”

Carrus chirruped, stroking her paw. “I learned not to doubt you a very long time, ago, Sunbird. Besides.” He bumped his beak against her. “If I ever tried to have you committed, you’d tear this place to ground. So, you may as well tell me about your dream, if it will help.”

“It was a nightmare, really.” Sunbird’s voice was a soft murmur against Carrus’s neck. “Of alarms, and fear, and flashing red lights. And yet…” She lifted her head to gaze into Carrus’s unusual, crimson eyes. Unlike the warning lights, Carrus’s eyes were a softer red, warm and calming. She cupped his cheek. “Your eyes have the opposite effect on me. Strange that the same color can seem so different.”

Carrus nuzzled her paw pad. “Glad someone likes them. When I was young, I thought they made me look like an apparition.”

“Not all apparitions are the same, Carrus. Where some are furious, others are protective.” She lay her head back down against him, sighing. “Just like the gods. You know, in the dreams, I’m always terrified. But when I really met the god, I wasn’t frightened at all. It was as if I knew he was there to set me free. To protect me. Or maybe I wasn’t afraid because…” She stretched her paws, memories drifting through her patchwork mind. “Because he seemed so small, at first. A tiny little thing, but with all the great cosmos in his eyes. Stars and infinity, wreathed in a tiny little body.”

Carrus murmured, shifting in uncertainty. “I suppose, if they were really a god, they could appear as anything they wished.” He tilted his head. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am, yes.” Sunbird eased back to brush her beak against his. “Thanks to you. It was easier for me to remember reality with your help, so thank you for your comfort.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Worry shimmered in Carrus’s eyes. “I’m not used to seeing you so frightened, and confused. I’m glad it has passed.”

Sunbird nuzzled his cheek. “As am I. Which makes me all the more glad you accepted my invitation to join me, last night.” She pushed herself up onto her haunches, yawning. “Even if you kept me up too late for my own good.”

“I kept you up?” Carrus sat up across the bed from her, chirruping. “I was going to compare our relative sleeping schedules, but you know what? Instead, I shall take that as a compliment to my performance.”

Sunbird snorted, and stepped off her bed, one limb at a time. She waggled her hind end at Carrus, then thumped him across the head with her feathered tail. “You weren’t especially disappointing. For your age.”

Carrus gave an irritable chirp that soon twisted into a warbling laugh. “I suppose I should be happy with that.”

“You should.” Sunbird strode towards her desk. Several of her personal slates were scattered across it. She sent a message down to the unit she’d had installed in the Warden’s personal kitchens, requesting enough breakfast for two gryphons. “I’m going to have food brought up, and then take a bath. Care to eat with me?”

“Certainly.” Carrus followed her off the bed. He flicked his silver-banded wings out and shook them, then folded them back against his body. “I don’t suppose that invitation extends to bathing with you again, as well?”

Sunbird padded towards the hearth in her wall, adorned with elegant brass fixtures and glass doors. She settled onto her haunches atop a plush, burgundy rug. “Oh? Suddenly you’re eager to go again, after I practically had to drag you here by your ball feathers?”

Carrus flexed his wings in a playful shrug. “They have fur, not feathers.”

“It’s an expression, old bird.” Sunbird stretched her wings, yawning again.

“Oh, my apologies!” Carrus shot her a playful glare. “I don’t keep up with all the crude sayings of today’s fledglings.”

Sunbird folded her wings, patting the rug. “Are you going to join me, or not?”

Carrus padded over, sitting down just across from her. He tilted his head down, looking himself over. He splayed his wings, examining a few graying feathers. “You do keep making jokes about my age and ability, after all. I thought perhaps I had best keep proving myself.” Carrus turned his gaze back to Sunbird. “And as you were not especially disappointed, perhaps you might enjoy being less than disappointed again.”

Sunbird warbled laughter, lifting her crown feathers and perking her ears. “I just might, dear Carrus, I just might.” She smiled at him, then sighed. “Alas, after that, we both have preparations to make, and dragons to visit.”

“So we do.” Carrus tilted his head, staring at her. Sunbird could almost see herself reflected in his crimson gaze. “This…Smoke That Seeks, you dream of. This god, you say you’ve met.” He took a slow breath. “You mean it, don’t you? That you really have met a god.”

Sunbird looked away, flattening her ears. Soon enough, she would tell him everything, but only after he understood how heavily such knowledge would weigh upon his wings.

Carrus set his paw atop hers. “You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to, but I’ve seen you do the impossible. You came here from some strange realm, across The Bridge. You’re stronger even than a damn dragon. You have knowledge you couldn’t possibly-”

“Not yet, Carrus.” Sunbird turned her attention back to him.

“Apologies, General.” Carrus bowed his head. “I should not presume above my position.”

“No, Carrus, that’s not…” Sunbird ground her beak, afraid he was getting the wrong idea. “Yes, Carrus. I have met a god, and I have met a monster, and between them I was given blessings, curses, and above all, understanding.” She reached up and held his cheek in a paw, offering him a wistful smile. “But I fear you’re not quite ready to know, to understand.”

“Clearly not, because I am exceedingly confused.” Carrus put his paw over hers, returning her smile. “But it sometimes seems a terrible burden, to you. If you ever wish help carrying it, I am hear to listen.”

“Thank you, Carrus.” Sunbird bumped her beak to his. Carrus’s offer alone was enough to ease that very burden, if only slightly. “It is greatly appreciated.” Sunbird considered it, then cupped his head between her paws. “How about this? When we have both returned from our missions, I will make you offer, the terms of which I cannot yet disclose. And if you accept-”

“I accept.” Mischief shone in the older gryphon’s eyes.

“Not yet, Carrus.” Sunbird smoothed down his neck feathers. “But when the time comes, if you do accept the terms, then I will show the place I’m truly from. And I will teach you all about The Smoke That Seeks, and The Stars That Sing.”

*****

That's it for now! Thank you for reading! If you've enjoyed, please hit the FAVE button and leave a comment! Let me know your favorite scenes, your favorite characters, any theories you may be developing...