The Dragon Book by Gardner Dozois, Jack Dann Page A

worry, I’ll have more room for you soon.”
    He’d already had most of the statuary cleared out of the courtyard, but it wasn’t going to do for long; she had already tripled in size, after two weeks. Fortunately, he’d already worked out a splendid solution.
    “Dominus,” Maracles called nervously, from the house. “Cato is here.”
    “Splendid!” Antony called back. “Show him in. Cato, my good neighbor,” he said, rising from the divan as the old man stopped short at the edge of the courtyard. “I thank you so deeply for coming. I would have come myself, but you see, the servants get so anxious when I leave her alone.”
    “I did not entirely credit the rumors, but I see you really have debauched yourself out of your mind at last,” Cato said. “No, thank you, I will not come out; the beast can eat you, first, and then it will be so sozzled I can confidently expect to make my escape.”
    “I am not going to eat Antony,” Vici said indignantly, and Cato stared at her.
    “Maracles, bring Cato a chair, there,” Antony said, sprawling back on the divan, and he stroked Vici’s neck.
    “I didn’t know they could speak,” Cato said.
    “You should hear her recite the Priapeia , there’s a real ring to it,” Antony said. “Now, why I asked you—”
    “Those poems are not very good,” Vici said, interrupting. “I liked that one you were reading at your house better, about all the fighting.”
    “What?” Cato said.
    “What?” Antony said.
    “I heard it over the wall, yesterday,” Vici said. “It was much more exciting, and,” she added, “the language is more interesting. The other one is all just about fornicating, over and over, and I cannot tell any of the people in it apart.”
    Antony stared at her, feeling vaguely betrayed.
    Cato snorted. “Well, Antony, if you are mad enough to keep a dragon, at least you have found one that has better taste than you do.”
    “Yes, she is most remarkable,” Antony said, with gritted teeth. “But as you can see, we are getting a little cramped, so I’m afraid—”
    “Do you know any others like that?” Vici asked Cato.
    “What, I suppose you want me to recite Ennius’s Annals for you here and now?” Cato said.
    “Yes, please,” she said, and settled herself comfortably.
    “Er,” Antony said. “Dearest heart—”
    “Shh, I want to hear the poem,” she said.
    Cato looked rather taken aback, but then he looked at Antony—and smiled. And then the bastard started in on the whole damned thing.
    Antony fell asleep somewhere after the first half hour and woke up again to find them discussing the meter or the symbolism or whatnot. Cato had even somehow talked the house servants into bringing him out a table and wine and bread and oil, which was more than they’d had the guts to bring out for him the last two weeks.
    Antony stood up. “If we might resume our business,” he said pointedly, with a glare in her direction.
    Vincitatus did not take the hint. “Cato could stay to dinner.”
    “No, he could not ,” Antony said.
    “So what was this proposition of yours, Antony?” Cato said.
    “I want to buy your house,” Antony said flatly. He’d meant to come at it roundabout, and enjoy himself leading Cato into a full understanding of the situation, but at this point he was too irritated to be subtle.
    “That house was built by my great-grandfather,” Cato said. “I am certainly not going to sell it to you to be used for orgies.”
    Antony strolled over to the table and picked up a piece of bread to sop into the oil. Well, he could enjoy this, at least. “You might have difficulty finding any other buyer. Or any guests, for that matter, once word gets out.”
    Cato snorted. “On the contrary,” he said. “I imagine the value will shortly be rising, as soon as you have gone.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t have plans to go anywhere,” Antony said.
    “Oh, never fear,” Cato said. “I think the Senate will make plans for