put together was a unique odor all its own and one Marek could only call “the nursery.”
He put his hand on the wall and it felt warm. The air was thick with humidity and so hot Marek began to sweat from his forearms along with all the usual places. He didn’t like the way that felt and couldn’t wait to get out of there for at least that reason. A bath and clean clothes seemed like the most valuable things in the world just then. He stepped into the room on legs made unsure by a vibration that rattled the ancient flagstones under his feet. The dragon was moving.
“Ah, Marek Rymiit,” the bass voice trundled through the heavy air.
Marek smiled despite his discomfort and said, “Insithryllax, my friend. You’re well?”
The sound of the dragon’s laugh was like distant thunder crawling at him from the horizon. He’d long ago stopped being scared by the sound and had come to relish the feeling it elicited in his chest.
“I’ve had a glass poured for you,” said the dragon.
Marek followed the great wyrm’s gaze to a fine crystal wine glass sitting on the floor next to a matching decanter. The Red Wizard had never seen the set before
and found that fact unsettling but only passingly so. Insithryllax wasn’t his prisoner, and the dragon was well-versed at taking human form.
“What is it?” Marek asked, bending to take up the glass. He set his nose onto the rim and pulled in a long noseful. “Sembian. A fine old cask.”
“Do you think so?” asked the dragon.
Marek took a small sip of the wine before asking, “Is this a trick?”
There was that rumbling laugh again then Insithryllax said, “It’s not Sembian, but it’s made from Sembian grapes. Would you believe it was bottled right here in Innarlith?”
“No,” Marek answered.
“And yet it was.”
Marek took another sip, impressed by the wine’s subtle melange of flavors. He hadn’t heard that InnarlithInnarlith of all placeshad begun making fine wine.
“Something to keep an eye on,” he told himself, then regarded the dragon. “You appear tired. Tell me I’m not overtaxing you.”
Instead of saying “No,” the dragon just laughed.
Marek met the wyrm’s eyes finally and he stopped laughing. The beast had gotten even bigger, if that was possible, in the twenty-three years of their acquaintance. The spells Marek had used to enthrall the dragon had long since faded. They stayed together the last decade because they both wanted to. They had become friends, allies, cohorts, compatriots, and both of them knew that the other could turn on him in a second and certainly would in time, but until then they would help each other, protect each other, and keep each other’s secrets. Lesser mortals would have called them friends.
The dragon was surrounded by a dozen smaller creatures similar to himself. The other monsters had the heads and general shape of a dragon, and the jagged, batlike
wings, but only two legs. Their eyes, though fierce and dangerous, didn’t burn with quite the same malignant intelligence as Insithryllax’s.
“The food has been coming regularly,” the black dragon said, nudging one of the firedrakes away with the tip of one massive wing. The lesser wyrm scurried off in a scrabble of claws on stone. “I get out from time to time, and the firedrakes have been… accommodating.”
“Are they laying?” Marek asked. “If not, this is all in-“
“Twenty so far,” the dragon interrupted. “I think they’ll start to hatch soon. Since these … ladies aren’t exactly blacks, I can’t say how long they’ll need to ges-tate, but they smell healthy and the firedrakes care for them as if they’re viable.”
Marek’s heart raced.
“I thought you’d find that to your liking,” said Insithryllax.
“If there is anything you need,” the Red Wizard said, “you need only ask.”
“I’ll submit a list,” said the dragon, “but in the meantime, perhaps just an answer to a question.”
“That can be
He put his hand on the wall and it felt warm. The air was thick with humidity and so hot Marek began to sweat from his forearms along with all the usual places. He didn’t like the way that felt and couldn’t wait to get out of there for at least that reason. A bath and clean clothes seemed like the most valuable things in the world just then. He stepped into the room on legs made unsure by a vibration that rattled the ancient flagstones under his feet. The dragon was moving.
“Ah, Marek Rymiit,” the bass voice trundled through the heavy air.
Marek smiled despite his discomfort and said, “Insithryllax, my friend. You’re well?”
The sound of the dragon’s laugh was like distant thunder crawling at him from the horizon. He’d long ago stopped being scared by the sound and had come to relish the feeling it elicited in his chest.
“I’ve had a glass poured for you,” said the dragon.
Marek followed the great wyrm’s gaze to a fine crystal wine glass sitting on the floor next to a matching decanter. The Red Wizard had never seen the set before
and found that fact unsettling but only passingly so. Insithryllax wasn’t his prisoner, and the dragon was well-versed at taking human form.
“What is it?” Marek asked, bending to take up the glass. He set his nose onto the rim and pulled in a long noseful. “Sembian. A fine old cask.”
“Do you think so?” asked the dragon.
Marek took a small sip of the wine before asking, “Is this a trick?”
There was that rumbling laugh again then Insithryllax said, “It’s not Sembian, but it’s made from Sembian grapes. Would you believe it was bottled right here in Innarlith?”
“No,” Marek answered.
“And yet it was.”
Marek took another sip, impressed by the wine’s subtle melange of flavors. He hadn’t heard that InnarlithInnarlith of all placeshad begun making fine wine.
“Something to keep an eye on,” he told himself, then regarded the dragon. “You appear tired. Tell me I’m not overtaxing you.”
Instead of saying “No,” the dragon just laughed.
Marek met the wyrm’s eyes finally and he stopped laughing. The beast had gotten even bigger, if that was possible, in the twenty-three years of their acquaintance. The spells Marek had used to enthrall the dragon had long since faded. They stayed together the last decade because they both wanted to. They had become friends, allies, cohorts, compatriots, and both of them knew that the other could turn on him in a second and certainly would in time, but until then they would help each other, protect each other, and keep each other’s secrets. Lesser mortals would have called them friends.
The dragon was surrounded by a dozen smaller creatures similar to himself. The other monsters had the heads and general shape of a dragon, and the jagged, batlike
wings, but only two legs. Their eyes, though fierce and dangerous, didn’t burn with quite the same malignant intelligence as Insithryllax’s.
“The food has been coming regularly,” the black dragon said, nudging one of the firedrakes away with the tip of one massive wing. The lesser wyrm scurried off in a scrabble of claws on stone. “I get out from time to time, and the firedrakes have been… accommodating.”
“Are they laying?” Marek asked. “If not, this is all in-“
“Twenty so far,” the dragon interrupted. “I think they’ll start to hatch soon. Since these … ladies aren’t exactly blacks, I can’t say how long they’ll need to ges-tate, but they smell healthy and the firedrakes care for them as if they’re viable.”
Marek’s heart raced.
“I thought you’d find that to your liking,” said Insithryllax.
“If there is anything you need,” the Red Wizard said, “you need only ask.”
“I’ll submit a list,” said the dragon, “but in the meantime, perhaps just an answer to a question.”
“That can be
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