The unicorn stepped a little closer and nuzzled her cheek.
Balkis recoiled a step, laughing, hands coming up to fend off the muzzle, but somehow they wound up stroking its soft, warm hide. “Would you thank me, then?”
The unicorn nodded.
After encountering a talking bird, Balkis certainly wasn't disconcerted by a unicorn that could understand human language. “A gift for a gift, if you will. My companion has been wounded in your defense. Will you carry him to one who can heal him?”
The unicorn looked wary but gave an uncertain nod.
The provisional nature of that nod made Balkis nervous. She led the unicorn back to Anthony, pouring on the flattery. “Never have I seen so wondrous a beast as yourself! You are so graceful, so noble, so glorious in your strength!”
The unicorn lifted its head, seeming to preen; by the time they neared Anthony, it was prancing.
“So gallant a creature, so courageous, so—”
“So saccharine and nauseating!” the sidicus snapped. “If you had an ounce of modesty, horsehead, your hair would turn pink with blushing!”
The unicorn gave the sidicus a narrow glare and lined up its horn on the red band around its throat.
“Here is my Anthony,” Balkis said quickly. “Will you carry him?”
The unicorn lowered its gaze, took one look at Anthony, and nodded. It lay beside him. Balkis realized it was waiting to be loaded, and she pulled on Anthony's arm, turning him over and hauling his torso across the animal's back, amazed how heavy he was. Then she grasped a foot and tugged on it until his legs flipped over to more or less straddle the unicorn.
“Rise carefully, now,” she begged her hooved friend, “and I will hold him on your back.”
The unicorn rose with fluid grace, but it was all Balkis could do to stabilize Anthony and keep him from falling. Then she arranged his face to lie on the unicorn's mane and took his hand to steady him as the unicorn walked.
“See? Nothing to it!” the sidicus crowed. “I knew the beast would carry your lover.”
Balkis blushed at the term, but insisted, “It was not so foregone a conclusion as that. A unicorn will only come near a maiden!”
“Not a maiden, foolish lass! A virgin! And men may be virgins as easily as women! Indeed, most of them are born that way.” It cocked its head on the side and fixed her with a beady eye. “How long have you been traveling with this man?”
“Traveling? Why… why, for weeks!”
“Four weeks? And you call him your love and your lover, but he is still a virgin? Are you so ugly as that, or merely a shrew and a termigant? Or could it be that you are afraid of your own passions?”
Balkis blushed furiously. “Hold your tongue, impertinent bird! He has never told me he loves me, nor I him!”
“Not only your passions do you fear, but even your emotions! Do you not know your own heart?”
“No,” Balkis grated, “but if you keep on in this vein, I will empty yours, and know your heart—by taste!”
“Rawk! A fine way to treat one who has aided you!” the sidicus said in mock indignation. It turned its back, flirted its tail at her in insult, and flew away.
Balkis watched it go, not knowing whether to be glad or sad—the bird had been amusing, after all.
She plodded onward beside the unicorn, saying to it, “You, at least, are a true companion, neither insulting nor belittling!” and other such protestations of friendship—but she began to worry. Where would they find help?
The sidicus came arrowing back and lighted on a twig nearby. “Are you blind and ignorant? Help is this way! Come!” And it flew off, but only a hundred feet or so, where it perched and waited. As Balkis and the unicorn came up, it cried, “So slow! You should trade your feet for a pair of wings!” then flew away again before Balkis could manage a retort. It perched a hundred feet farther on, though, and Balkis followed it, reassured—it might be a caustic friend, but it was a friend nonetheless.
Stegoman carefully bypassed the Valley of the Ants before settling down for the night, even though it meant flying in the dark. Out in the wasteland he found a cave in the lee of a hill which Matt declared to be adequate housing for the night— he'd slept in worse hotels. He kindled a fire and started his stew boiling while Stegoman went looking for something fresh. They must have finished dinner about the same time, he thought, for Stegoman came circling down to the top of the hill as he was scrubbing his plate clean. Matt gathered brush for bedding and heaped it in the cave, campfire for a door, secure in the knowledge that if anything dangerous came along, Stegoman would see it far away from his perch above. The moon rose three-quarters full, but its light didn't penetrate far enough into the cave to be a problem.
Then a shadow swept over him. He looked up to see a long, sinuous dragon folding her wings to settle up above. The gal had tenacity, he had to give her that. Whether or not Stegoman would remained to be seen.
Stegoman was, at least, polite. “Good evening, maiden. You must be weary, for you have traveled far.”
“What else am I to do with my time?” Dimetrolas demanded.
“There are no eggs to hatch, no hatchlings to ward, no companions to join me in games.”
“That seems odd,” Stegoman said.
Matt could hear the frown in his voice, and told himself he shouldn't be listening. Himself acknowledged that it was being naughty and stretched its ears with relish.
“Odd?” Dimetrolas asked. “Why would you think it odd? All other female dragons taunt me because the males find me ugly, even as you do.”
“I do not,” Stegoman said evenly. “I find you beautiful.”
“Then why do you reject me so!”
“Because beauty is not enough for even a mild friendship, female. It makes the difference between liking and desire, yes, but I have found that if the liking is deep enough, I begin to see a female as beautiful, and the desire comes.”
“But you do not desire me?”
“Not yet, no”
“Yet!” Dimetrolas snapped. “How much future will there be, far traveler? How long before you have fled from my range? Better to take what you can while it is offered!”
“Nothing has been offered yet,” Stegoman returned.
“With no sign that it would be accepted? Of course not!”
“What good is the offer and the acceptance if you regret it on the morrow?” Stegoman challenged. “I have been too long among humans, female, and have spent far too little time among my own kind. I am alien among dragons now, and those of our kind who admire me at first become distant when they discover that I do not think like a true dragon.”
Dimetrolas was quiet awhile, then asked, “In what ways do you not think like our scaly breed?”
“Comradeship has become too important to me,” Stegoman replied. “Oh, there is camaraderie enough among our own kind, but it is only for convenience. No dragon in his right mind would fight to defend any but the Free Folk, and would seek closeness only with those of his own blood.”
Dimetrolas thought that over, then said, “Such a yearning for kinship is not entirely bad.”
“Indeed? And what experiences have you had that would make you think so?”
“Experiences!” Dimetrolas snapped. “What need for experiences? Kin is kin! Were you hatched without a clan?”
“Not hatched, no,” Stegoman said judiciously.
Matt thought his friend did an admirable job of hiding the pain the words had to awaken in him.
“Surely you were not born alive, like a cow!” Dimetrolas said scornfully. “Though mayhap if you were a bullock or steer, you would better understand the need for sibs and kin.”