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dragon. It stalked silently into the chamber to greet its master.
    Garth made it welcome, then remarked to the man who had last spoken, “ It , not he ; only the neuters ever grow large enough to be ridden.” He told the warbeast to behave, then followed the youth into the dragon’s belly to study the workings of the great machine.

Chapter Five
    Garth spent the night in a room at the Sword and Chalice, but the inn had no stable adequate to house Koros, so the warbeast stayed out on the plaza. There was little danger that anyone would try to steal it or any of Garth’s belongings still on its back; the beast knew well who its master was, and would not accompany a stranger without Garth’s orders, or permit anyone but the overman to disturb the supplies it guarded. No one in his right mind would argue with a warbeast. No one mad enough to try would survive the argument.
    The overman arose late, a good hour after sunrise, and took his time in preparing for his departure. The afternoon, he knew, would be more than enough for him to find his way out of Orgûl; once he was in Eramma again he intended to travel by night, as he had done before.
    When he had finished his packing, eaten a hearty breakfast, and made sure that Koros had been tended to, he swung himself into the saddle, ready to leave. Before Koros had taken more than a single step, however, he changed his mind and ordered the warbeast to turn west rather than northeast. He had no reason to hurry; no urgent tasks needed to be undertaken, no one eagerly awaited his return to Skelleth. It could do no harm if he lingered for a visit to the toymaker; after all, he had a purchase to make.
    Koros had no objection; it strode silently down the western street and halted obediently at the door of the last shop.
    The door was closed, and the curtains were drawn across the display windows; Garth saw no sign of the old man. He dismounted and rapped lightly, twice, on the wooden panels.
    A muffled call answered him, and a moment later the toymaker emerged, blinking in the bright sunlight. He stared up at the overman.
    â€œOh, it’s you,” he said with an uncertain smile.
    â€œGreetings,” Garth said. “I hope I did not wake you.”
    â€œWhat? Oh, no; I was just eating my breakfast. Hadn’t had time to open the shop yet.” He blinked again and then said anxiously, “I heard about your fight with the dragon. I hope you didn’t hurt it too much; I’m not sure whether I could fix any serious damage. It’s mostly magic, you know, and magic is tricky stuff. I’m no wizard; I don’t usually know how what I do works. I just build things and they work—or sometimes they don’t. Did you do it much harm?”
    â€œNo,” Garth replied. “I pried a few scales from its back and I might have scratched the belly a little. I think that hurt my sword more than it hurt the dragon—or maybe the blade was dulled when I dropped it.” He had retrieved the weapon before returning to the village; it had not been bent, fortunately, but part of one edge, from the tip halfway to the hilt, had been ruined.
    â€œWhat about yourself? Were you hurt?”
    â€œNo. My warbeast’s tail was singed, I’m afraid, and it seems to have been bruised here and there.”
    â€œOh, I am sorry!” The man stared past the overman at the beast, his face radiating sympathy.
    Garth decided that it was time he got to the point. “I came for the gull,” he said.
    â€œOh, of course!” the toymaker exclaimed. “Just a moment!” He vanished back into the shop, then emerged a few seconds later holding the metal bird. Garth accepted it, paid out the agreed-upon price of half a dozen silver coins, and placed it delicately on the saddle.
    â€œYou’ll need the key,” the old man reminded him.
    Garth turned back and held out his hand; the toymaker dropped the silver key onto his palm, and