“Aye,” Stegoman said with a sardonic grimace, “one—and that is not enough for a female. Perhaps there are some such among your kind, Matthew, but female dragons wish to lay eggs and see them hatch, to nurture them and teach them and watch them grow and know them as friends in maturity. That takes other females for company, males to ward them while they lay and brood, a whole clan to ward the hatchlings and shield them from loneliness. No, Matthew, I have nothing to offer, and must not therefore speak with more than civility!” With that, he leaped into the air and dove over the sawtoothed rim of the little plateau. Matt heard the boom of his wings opening, then watched him rise and arrow off toward the north, seeking supper and solace for the wound in his soul that Dimetrolas had unwittingly reopened. He gazed after Stegoman until he saw the dragon, small in the distance, half fold his wings and plunge from the sky. Then Matt turned away to his own campfire to rack his brains for a way to help his friend.
Balkis woke at the sound of cows mooing below her and of a voice answering. She shrank farther into the hay, heart pounding with alarm. Her fur bristled and her claws sprang out. Then the fear lessened, for the voice was a resonant, friendly baritone, addressing the cows fondly. “There now, there's hay for you, Bossy, and for you, Dapple. Come now, Blossom, you'll not have apples again till fall, so you had better eat your fodder!”
Balkis found herself wondering if people called cows by the same names the world over, changing only the language.
A cow lowed with a note of urgency.
“Yes, I know, Sunshine, I know,” the voice crooned. “Your udder's so full it hurts, I know, and I shall milk you first, but you must have feed to munch while I do. There now, all, eat and be still while I milk.”
The cows quieted. So did Balkis; her fear shrank to wariness, and her claws hid themselves in her fur again. She heard the clatter of a stool and bucket being set while the voice said soothingly, “There now, I'll be gentle with the washing, so swollen is your udder! But you'll feel better quickly, be sure ofit.”
Then there came the hiss of milk shooting into the bucket. The warm, appetizing aroma drifted upward into Balkis' nostrils, making her mouth water even though she wasn't particularly hungry. She remembered the brownies' caution, though, and stayed hidden. However, cats and curiosity have a long relationship, so she did burrow down, hunt out a knothole, and peek.
She caught her breath.
Golden hair, regular features, large blue eyes, broad mouth and broader shoulders—it was a young man in his early twenties, easily the most handsome Balkis had ever seen, and a strange warmth began to spread within her. A cow lowed impatiently, and the young man turned to say, “Yes, I know, I know—as soon as you see Sunshine being milked, you become aware of your own need. Patience, sweet cow—I shall tend to you soon.”
Balkis found herself wishing that he would tend to her instead, and beneath her fur felt her face grow warm. He was so gentle, so cheerful! How could this be the rough, coarse boy against whom the wee folk had warned her?
“He is the best of them.”
Balkis looked up, startled to hear a voice resonating so closely with her thoughts. It was Lichi who knelt by her.
“He is the youngest,” the brownie explained. “The others are quick to put him in his place at every opportunity, and none too gently, either. Nonetheless, he manages to stay cheerful in spite of all temptation to anger and bitterness. They call him…”
The sound of the name was quite foreign, but Balkis recognized it as a version of “Anthony.” She crouched by the knothole, staring down in fascination as the young man went from one cow to another.
“Mark well the spots where the milk spills,” Lichi advised, “though I fear most of it will have soaked into the earth before you come.”
The milk was the farthest thing from Balkis' thoughts at the moment, though she had to admit that it smelled heavenly.
Anthony was just finishing the last cow when the barn door crashed open and a voice called, “What, sluggard! Are you not done yet? Cease babying those cattle and turn them out to pasture!”
“Yank their teats harder and faster and be done with itV another harsh voice snapped. “Come on, little fool, turn them out!”
Two young men stepped into sight, muscular under their heavy tunics, heavy-jawed and dark-browed. One had red hair, the other brown.
“Gently, brothers, gently.” Anthony's voice took on an ingratiating tone with the ease of long practice. “I am almost done with her, take the other three, if you wish.”
Balkis glared at the intruders with indignation. Why should Anthony toady to these swaggerers? Surely not merely because he was the youngest!
“If we wish!” A fourth brother shouldered his way between the other two, just as big, even heavier, dark-haired. “Be sure that we wish it! Be done with that cow now”
“You cannot hurry the milk, Baradur ” Anthony's voice stilt had the conciliatory note, but not the slightest trace of fear.
Baradur's face darkened with anger. “I can hurry it! One side, brat!” He shoved Anthony off the milking stool far harder than he needed and sat down to finish the milking himself. The cow let out a bellow of surprise and pain, but the milk hissed faster. Anthony picked himself up with a look of resignation, and the next brother gave him a shove as he passed. “Work, lazybones! Loose these other three and take them out!” He didn't wait for Anthony to comply with his order but started untying Blossom himself.
“As you say, Kemal,” Anthony sighed. He turned to untie Sunshine, but the third brother elbowed him out of the way. “Can you not loosen a rope, fumblefingers? Go muck out the stalls, as befits you!”
Indignation turned to anger, and Balkis found herself thinking, Stand up for yourself! Tell him to mind his tongue!
For a moment she thought she must have spoken aloud, for Anthony flushed as he turned away to take up a shovel— only he took up two and tossed the second to the redhead. “Shovel yourself, Philip, and let us see who clears his floor more quickly!”
Philip turned back in time to knock the shovel out of the way with a smile, eyes glinting. “Do you dare tell me what to do, mucksweeper? I shall remind you of your place!”
His fists came up, and the other brothers turned from their work, grinning and stepping in.
Balkis' stomach sank as she realized the nature of the game, and a very nasty one it was—for the older brothers to goad Anthony into talking back, no matter how slightly, whereupon they felt they had the right to slap him down—and slap they did.
Philip struck first, his fist driving at Anthony's belly. Anthony blocked the blow but didn't return it. Even so, Kemal cried, “Oho! The child thinks to strike at his elders!” and stepped in with a roundhouse swing.
Anthony ducked under it, but Baradur caught his shoulder and spun him around, shoving him hard. Anthony staggered back; Philip caught him and held him while Baradur slammed a blow at his chin. Anthony jerked his head aside and the blow landed on Philip's shoulder. The redhead shouted in anger and shoved Anthony far enough away to swing at him with a short, vicious jab. It caught the youngest under the ribs as he was turning; he bent over, gasping. Kemal laughed and swung a blow at his head, but Anthony managed to straighten up, and the punch caught him in the chest. He stumbled back, and Baradur caught him, turned him around, and swung a blow at his chin. Somehow it landed on his shoulder, though. Anthony staggered back, tripped, and fell to the floor.
The barn resounded with the older brothers' laughter. They untied the cows and drove them out, calling, “Clean yourself off, Anthony!”