going, Makri narrows her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"You must help me care for the dragon. You'll have him eating again in no time."
"Completely out of the question," says Makri, raising her voice. "I've got a sword-fighting competition to win, a Sorcerer to protect and a city to take back from the Orcs. I can't waste time looking after baby dragons." Maki glares down at the beast. "I don't even like baby dragons."
"But you have to help," pleads our host. "I've been at my wit's end. I'm sure the King will be most grateful."
At that moment a procession marches round the side of the house, made up of eighteen soldiers, three Sorcerers, three Barons, several officials and King Gardos. It's the first time I've seen the young King, but he's easily recognisable from the discreet gold circlet on his head. Arichdamis bows low. He doesn't seem surprised at their arrival, so I presume it's not the first time the King has marched into his grounds without knocking at the door. The King pays no attention to Arichdamis, choosing instead to glare at Makri.
"What is happening here?" he demands. "What are you doing with my dragon?"
"Your majesty," exclaims Arichdamis, surfacing from his bow. "A remarkable occurrence. This woman has the power to soothe and comfort the dragon."
The King's scowl slowly fades at the sight of the small dragon playing at Makri's feet. "Astonishing!" he says. "Who is this young woman?"
"Makri, your majesty. Bodyguard to Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky."
The King's brow furrows slightly as he further examines Makri. "Is she an Orc?"
"Partially, I believe," says Arichdamis. "But she is very good with the dragon."
"We shall see," says the King. "Bring forth the meat."
At the King's command a member of the royal household removes the lid of a silver platter to reveal a joint of raw meat.
"Feed the dragon," commands the King.
The attendant edges forward nervously. He holds out the meat, trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the creature. As soon as he comes near, the small white dragon starts snarling at him. He retreats rapidly. The King looks at Makri.
"Partially Orcish woman. Try feeding my dragon."
I'm concerned that Makri, being uncivilised, unused to monarchs, and never pleased to be described as an Orc, might refuse to co-operate. Fortunately she does seem to grasp that you can't go around being rude to a King when you're a refugee in his country. She shrugs, picks up the meat and thrusts it at the dragon.
"Eat this you beast."
The dragon leaps for the venison and gobbles it down immediately. There's a collective gasp from the procession at the sight of the dragon feasting happily. When it's finished the meat, it again snuggles down around Makri's ankles. King Gardos turns to one of his counsellors, the most important one, I'd guess, from the gilded insignia on his cloak.
"This woman must look after my dragon. Organise matters so that she has whatever she needs."
Chapter Nine
A few hours later, back in Kublinos's mansion to pack up our meagre belongings, Makri is complaining. "I don't want to look after a dragon."
"Look on the bright side," I say. "We all get to move into Arichdamis's house which is a lot better than this servant's attic. You've got plenty of space to practise your sword fighting and Lisutaris can smoke thazis till her heart's content."
"It's certainly fortuitous," agrees Lisutaris. "As long as you can keep that dragon happy I'll be in good standing with the King. And there's the tournament too. If you can win that it'll really boost my status."
Makri frowns. "How is that everything seems to be resting on my shoulders?"
"Just the way things work out," says Lisutaris, amiably.
Makri continues to grumble. I point out that it won't be that hard looking after the dragon. "Just tickle it behind the ear and throw some meat at it. It can't be that hard."
"He tried to bit your hand off."
It's true. The creature did not take kindly to being stroked by me.
"You must help me care for the dragon. You'll have him eating again in no time."
"Completely out of the question," says Makri, raising her voice. "I've got a sword-fighting competition to win, a Sorcerer to protect and a city to take back from the Orcs. I can't waste time looking after baby dragons." Maki glares down at the beast. "I don't even like baby dragons."
"But you have to help," pleads our host. "I've been at my wit's end. I'm sure the King will be most grateful."
At that moment a procession marches round the side of the house, made up of eighteen soldiers, three Sorcerers, three Barons, several officials and King Gardos. It's the first time I've seen the young King, but he's easily recognisable from the discreet gold circlet on his head. Arichdamis bows low. He doesn't seem surprised at their arrival, so I presume it's not the first time the King has marched into his grounds without knocking at the door. The King pays no attention to Arichdamis, choosing instead to glare at Makri.
"What is happening here?" he demands. "What are you doing with my dragon?"
"Your majesty," exclaims Arichdamis, surfacing from his bow. "A remarkable occurrence. This woman has the power to soothe and comfort the dragon."
The King's scowl slowly fades at the sight of the small dragon playing at Makri's feet. "Astonishing!" he says. "Who is this young woman?"
"Makri, your majesty. Bodyguard to Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky."
The King's brow furrows slightly as he further examines Makri. "Is she an Orc?"
"Partially, I believe," says Arichdamis. "But she is very good with the dragon."
"We shall see," says the King. "Bring forth the meat."
At the King's command a member of the royal household removes the lid of a silver platter to reveal a joint of raw meat.
"Feed the dragon," commands the King.
The attendant edges forward nervously. He holds out the meat, trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the creature. As soon as he comes near, the small white dragon starts snarling at him. He retreats rapidly. The King looks at Makri.
"Partially Orcish woman. Try feeding my dragon."
I'm concerned that Makri, being uncivilised, unused to monarchs, and never pleased to be described as an Orc, might refuse to co-operate. Fortunately she does seem to grasp that you can't go around being rude to a King when you're a refugee in his country. She shrugs, picks up the meat and thrusts it at the dragon.
"Eat this you beast."
The dragon leaps for the venison and gobbles it down immediately. There's a collective gasp from the procession at the sight of the dragon feasting happily. When it's finished the meat, it again snuggles down around Makri's ankles. King Gardos turns to one of his counsellors, the most important one, I'd guess, from the gilded insignia on his cloak.
"This woman must look after my dragon. Organise matters so that she has whatever she needs."
Chapter Nine
A few hours later, back in Kublinos's mansion to pack up our meagre belongings, Makri is complaining. "I don't want to look after a dragon."
"Look on the bright side," I say. "We all get to move into Arichdamis's house which is a lot better than this servant's attic. You've got plenty of space to practise your sword fighting and Lisutaris can smoke thazis till her heart's content."
"It's certainly fortuitous," agrees Lisutaris. "As long as you can keep that dragon happy I'll be in good standing with the King. And there's the tournament too. If you can win that it'll really boost my status."
Makri frowns. "How is that everything seems to be resting on my shoulders?"
"Just the way things work out," says Lisutaris, amiably.
Makri continues to grumble. I point out that it won't be that hard looking after the dragon. "Just tickle it behind the ear and throw some meat at it. It can't be that hard."
"He tried to bit your hand off."
It's true. The creature did not take kindly to being stroked by me.
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