“Tell me first,” Balkis said, “how you came to happen by when we had such need of you.”
“Mostly luck,” Matt said, “but your uncle called us in as soon as you were kidnapped. We've been searching for you ever since and just managed to pick up your trail a couple of days ago—in the nick of time, it would seem. Okay, your turn. I can guess how you came to be in the foothills of the Himalayas.” At the blank look both young folk gave him, he explained, “Anthony's southern mountains. But how did you travel from there to here?”
“Why, we walked,” Anthony said.
Balkis flashed him a smile and said, “We have simply come north, Lord Wizard—no need to be sure of the road to Maracanda until we were near enough for it to matter.”
“I'll accept that,” Matt said, “but how did you survive the valley of the giant ants? And that griddle of a desert? And… but maybe you'd better tell it to me from the beginning.”
They did, Balkis and Anthony taking turns as the three humans sat down and Matt took a wineskin from his pack. They drank only to wet their lips when they went dry, but the tale took an hour anyway. Matt listened as closely as he could, but his attention was split, trying to keep track of the conversation between the two dragons.
Stegoman said to Dimetrolas, “So you are of this flock, but grew too big for their liking.”
“Were you not cast out, too?” she asked angrily.
“I was, and for a far better reason—I could not help but breathe fire whenever I flew, and when I breathed fire, I became drunk from my own fumes and attacked any whom I imagined had offended me. My clan ripped my wings and cast me out to crawl about the land.”
“Ripped your wings?” Dimetrolas shuddered. “What a horrible punishment!” Then she stared at his half-spread, unmarked leather vanes. “But they are whole, and so handsome! I mean…”
“I thank you for the compliment,” Stegoman said gravely. “My friend Matthew healed my wings with his magic and cured me of my drunkenness. Therefore do I carry him and fight his battles.”
“I can see that such courtesy is merited.” Dimetrolas' eyes turned dreamy. “If someone were to transform me into a wee, winsome thing, only eleven feet long—”
“You would lose half your beauty,” Stegoman said instantly, “and all your fascination.”
Dimetrolas turned to him in surprise. “Do you truly find me fascinating?”
“Do you not truly find me alien?” Stegoman returned.
“No, only strange enough to intrigue me,” Dimetrolas replied with equal candor. “Your mind does not work as those of other dragons do”
“I have been among humans too long,” Stegoman acknowledged, “and one of them has a most odd sense of humor. But now I see the reason for your own solitary anger that has struck a chord of kinship within me.”
“Kinship?” Dimetrolas stared. “Then why would you not chase when I jibed?”
“I am, as you said, too serious by nature ” Stegoman told her. “Perhaps it is this removal from my own kind that has done it—or perhaps I am simply too grim and forbidding a beast.”
“I think it is lack of practice ” Dimetrolas said with a saurian smile. “I shall have to teach you to play again.” Then she raised her head high, staring down at him with the loftiest manner she could manage. “Have you anything to teach me in return, ancient lizard?”
Stegoman's lips lifted in a faint echo of her smile. “I might remember a very old game or two, chick.”
Matt smiled and focused all his attention on the young couple before him; he had a notion that any further eavesdropping would constitute an invasion of privacy.
“Thus we left the gentle old men,” Balkis finished, “and came here.”
Matt suspected that there was a lot she was leaving out, but the tale of how she and Anthony had fallen in love was none of his business. “You don't know how glad I am to see you safe.” He inclined his head toward Anthony. “Thank you for guarding her sleep.”
“I must thank her for guarding mine,” Anthony returned, “and for my look at the wide world.”
Balkis turned to him anxiously. “You do not regret leaving your hills?”
“Not a bit, strangely,” Anthony said, “and if I ever grow homesick, I can always return.”
Balkis' eyes clouded.
Anthony smiled into her eyes. “Of course, the company here is far more agreeable.”
Balkis grinned and leaned forward, head back. Anthony took the hint, and met her lips with his own.
Matt whistled the Liebestod as he gazed off toward the village, then turned back to the young lovers as they broke apart but still gazed at each other with shining eyes. He felt a pang as he remembered his first days with Alisande, and longing for her welled up in him. To get his mind off it, he said, “So you weren't deliberately walking into danger when you came into this gorge.”
“If we had known what we would find, we would surely have gone around it,” Anthony said grimly.
“We certainly did not expect to have to evade capture,” Balkis said.
“It is odd that these dragoneers do not even challenge a traveler before they attack,” Anthony mused.
“Yes, very odd.” Matt stood up, gazing at the largest building in the village. “Maybe we ought to find out why.” He set off toward the structure.
Balkis and Anthony exchanged a look of curiosity, then hurried after him, Balkis muttering under her breath.
Anthony caught the cadence of her words and asked, “What spell do you prepare?”
“One to call down lightning,” Balkis said grimly.
Matt stopped fifty feet from the building, close enough to be heard easily, far enough to avoid any surprise attacks by giving him a chance to dodge an arrow. He set his hands on his hips and called, “Parley! I'd really rather not stay here for the rest of your lives making you behave, but I can set spirit sentries if I have to!”
“You would not!” wailed a voice from within. “How should we live?”
“How do you live now?” Matt returned. “By robbing travelers and selling them into slavery?”
“We are not such cravens as that!” A lean, gray-bearded man appeared in the doorway, ramrod straight, fists clenched. “Who are you who comes to insult us so?”
“One who came to make you mend your evil ways,” Matt retorted. “Come out and talk—if you have the courage.”
The man eyed Stegoman and Dimetrolas. “Come out, to be burned by your pets?”
Stegoman rumbled warning, and Dimetrolas hissed with anger.
“I think you know Dimetrolas well enough to realize she could never be anyone's pet,” Matt said, “though she could choose to be a strong ally—and might want a spot of revenge. Nonetheless, I don't think either of them would want to fry me, so if you're standing near me, you'll be safe.”
“What of the distance between this hall and yourself?”
“Let's make a deal,” Matt said. “You don't shoot any arrows, and the dragons won't crisp you until after the parley's over and you've gone back inside.”
The man glanced at Stegoman and Dimetrolas again. “I will accept those terms, if they will.”
“I shall hold my fire,” Stegoman rumbled, “though I shall bid you mind your speech, human!” He turned to the female. “Dimetrolas?”
“I shall withhold also,” she replied, though warily. “You and I have an old score, Lugerin!”
Stegoman stiffened. “Was it he bade the dragons exile you?”
“He it was who began the talk,” Dimetrolas replied, “though he left it to the lizards to do his shabby deeds.” She showed all her teeth and spoke toward the building. “He feared my size, but would have had no cause if I had stayed. Now, though, he is right to fear! Still, Lugerin, I will wait for my revenge—but bring Ginelur, for no bargain will be binding without both of your assents!”