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about this.”
    “I’m
sorry to be the cause of any trouble,” said Draconas, falling into step beside
Gunderson. “I guess I shouldn’t have been so open about my calling. Where I’m
from, the people are not so backward—the people are not so close-minded,” he
amended tactfully.
    “You
were right the first time, sir,” said Gunderson with a grin. “Backward is the
word for it. Nate is a country boy and he still believes witches eat babies and
dance naked in the forest in the moonlight.”
    “I
assure you,” said Draconas, “that I have never danced naked anywhere, in the
woods or out of them.”
    Gunderson
laughed. He had a fine laugh, broad and rolling.
    “Wait
here. I’ll inform His Majesty.”
    Gunderson
brought Draconas into a large hall, then left him to go in search of the king.
Draconas looked curiously around. The stone walls kept the air in the cavernous
hall as cool as the air in the Hall of Parliament, and the room was nearly as
dark. Slit windows let in only a small portion of sunlight and, since the room
faced east, even that had been cut off by the sun’s sojourn to the other side
of heaven. Several pieces of fine furniture decorated the hall and these,
including leather, high-backed wooden chairs and a small table, were arranged
before an enormous fireplace placed along the center wall. A huge rectangular
table, intended for serving meals to a large company, stood at one end of the
hall, with benches at the low end—below the salt—and chairs at the other. This
was the public hall. The family’s private rooms would be elsewhere.
    As
Draconas looked idly about, taking note of this or that, a child of about seven
years of age came to have a look at the dragon hunter. The child was a male,
with fair hair and large eyes. His chaussures and tunic were well-made of fine
fabric, but not frilly or ostentatious. By his somewhat rumpled, disordered
appearance, he’d thrown off his everyday clothes to change hurriedly into more
formal clothing on hearing of a guest in the house. He’d apparently done
Draconas the honor of washing his face, though he’d missed a spot around his
right ear.
    “My
father will be with you shortly, sir,” said the boy. “He asks that I offer you
refreshment.”
    “No,
thank you,” said Draconas, guessing that he was in the presence of the heir to
the throne. Two other blond heads peeped around the corner of a door at the end
of the hall. “I take it you are Prince Wilhelm?”
    “I
am, sir,” said the prince with becoming dignity.
    “And
I am Draconas.”
    The
prince nodded and bit his lip, apparently trying to remember what to do next in
order to make his guest comfortable. The answer came to him.
    “Please
be seated, sir,” said the prince with a gesture toward the high-backed chairs.
    Draconas
bowed, but remained standing.
    The
prince realized that he must seat himself first, before his guest could sit
down. Wilhelm perched on the edge of a chair, then jumped back up eagerly, his
princely manners forgotten. “I heard Gunderson tell my father that you are the
dragon hunter. Is that true? Do you really hunt dragons? How many have you
killed?”
    Before
Draconas could answer his questions, a woman came bustling into the room, and
Draconas was on his feet again. The woman was dark as the young prince was
fair. She was short and well-rounded, where he was tall and slim. There was
enough resemblance between the two, especially the slightly pug nose and the
large, wide-open eyes, to mark them as mother and son.
    “Queen
Ermintrude,” said Draconas. “I am honored.”
    She
was attractive in a soft and motherly way, with her broad hips and ample bosom.
The expression of her face was sweet and wholesome. Her dark hair, thick and
luxuriant, was her one beauty, and she wore her hair uncovered, bound up in an
elaborate braid, not hidden beneath a wimple as was the current fashion.
    “His
Majesty asks your pardon for the delay. He will be with you shortly. In