Glitch didn't respond. He was busy eating stew.
Something akin to inspiration tugged at Tagg's mind, possibly stirred up by realizing that Minna was beside him, holding his hand. 'Maybe what we always lookin' for is what we want,' he suggested.
Gandy glanced around. 'What that?'
'Promised Place. Seem like we always lookin' for Promised Place.'
'Mebbe so,' Gandy nodded. To the dragon, he said, 'We get you stone, you lead us to Promised Place?'
'Yes,' she agreed, sighing. 'Where is it?'
'Dunno,' he said. 'Hopin' you'd know.'
'Rats,' the dragon muttered.
'Rats, too,' Gandy pressed. 'Throw in some rats.'
'All right! It's a deal.'
Gandy crept nearer to the rockfall and leaned down to peer into the depths. A big, green eye looked back at him. 'You say true?' Gandy asked.
The dragon glared at him, then sighed. 'I say true. Have I ever lied to you?'
'Okay,' Gandy decided. 'When Highbulp finish eatin', somebody tell him he decided what we want. We get little rock for this dragon, we go to Promised Place.'
Within moments, there were gully dwarves filing through the exit, all telling one another, 'Find little rock, 'bout this big.'
Tagg started to follow them, but Minna pulled him back. Still holding his hand, she crept toward the rockfall and looked beneath. 'How come dragon make deal with us?' she asked.
'My lair collapsed,' Verden said.
'Oh,' Minna breathed. Again she looked into the depths of the fallen rock, at the great, green eye looking back at her. 'Oh. Poor thing.' Sympathetic and truly concerned, she reached into her belt pouch and brought out her finest treasure, the little bauble given to her by Tagg. 'Poor dragon,' she said. 'Here. Here a pretty thing for you.'
She reached the bauble toward the hole, and the green eye brightened. The dragon voice hissed, 'That's it! It's mine!' A talon shot upward, spraying rock fragments into the cavern.
Tagg tumbled back, pulling Minna with him. She lost her hold on the self-stone, and it arced upward, then down.
There was a splash, and Glitch snapped, 'Watch it! Highbulp eatin'!' Glaring, he swigged another mouthful of stew, gulped it down and grumped, 'How come stew got rocks in it?'
'My self-stone!' Verden Leafglow shrieked. 'You… you swallowed my self-stone!' Rocks erupted again, and a gigantic clawed arm emerged. For a second, huge talons flexed above the horrified Highbulp, then Verden hissed with frustration and pulled back her claws. The little nuisance might be nothing but a gully dwarf, but he was a living thing. And her self-stone was inside him. The self-stone, with its affinity for life.
If he died with the self-stone inside him, the crystal would be destroyed.
Under smoky skies, across a war-ravaged land, the combined clans of Bulp made their way out from Chaldis and into the vast reaches of the Kharolis Mountains, ever onward and ever upward, led by a thirty-six-foot-long green dragon who carried a Highbulp at her breast.
Verden Leafglow was not happy about the situation. As a guide for the puny creatures she so despised, she felt humiliated and degraded. She longed to simply splash their blood all over the nearest mountainside. She dreamed of doing that, but she did not do it. She was stuck with them. By holding Glitch I — and the self-stone within him — close to her breast, she had managed a temporary healing of her wounds. But it was only temporary, until she had her self-stone back, intact and uningested.
She needed the detestable little imbecile, and he knew it. At first, the sheer terror of being gripped in dragon claws and pressed against a dragon's breast had almost killed him. A more complex individual probably would have died from compounded fright and shock. Glitch had only screamed and passed out.
Since then, though, he had decided that he enjoyed being carried around by a dragon, and seemed to be doing everything in his power to maintain the status quo. Whether by his own doing or by simple luck, Glitch had kept Verden's self-stone lodged somewhere inside him for nearly a week. Through sheer stubborn perversity, it seemed, Glitch I had become constipated, and seemed determined to remain that way until Verden delivered him and his subjects to their Promised Place. She couldn't kill him, she couldn't dispose of him — each time she let go of him for more than an hour, her wounds began to open again — and she couldn't separate him from the rest without chancing that he would somehow disgorge the stone and lose it.
The self-stone in his belly was the Highbulp's guarantee, and the arrogant little pest knew it. Somehow, through all the days and all the stews, the self-stone remained inside Glitch as though it were glued there.
Their Promised Place. They didn't know where it was, or even what it was, but Glitch I was basking in his newfound glory as a dragon owner, and would settle for nothing less than the perfect spot. He had become downright obnoxious about it. Into the region of Itzan Nul she led them, and there — as the Aghar slept under bright moons — a familiar dragon-voice came again to Verden, speaking within her mind. 'You have survived,' it said. 'I wondered if you would.'
'No thanks to you, Flame Searclaw,' she responded in kind, hatred riding on the thoughts. 'You left me back there. You knew I was there, and you left me to die.'
'You were injured and useless.' The red dragon's mindvoice seemed almost to yawn with disinterest. 'There are uses for you, now, though. The armies are…'
'Don't speak to me of uses,' Verden shot, hot rage edging the thoughts. 'You and I have much to settle… as soon as I am free to come for you.'
'You have a duty…' Searclaw's thoughts were scathing.
'Begone!' Verden thought, blanking out the mindtalk.
She would not forget her 'duty.' But first she must retrieve her self-stone. She must deliver these useless gully dwarves to their Promised Place. Visions of slaughter danced in her mind as she thought of the moment when her precious talisman was safe once more. The Highbulp and all the rest… how she would make them suffer when they were no longer needed. But first…
Where might it be — the place they would accept as their Promised Place? There were many places — abandoned places, devastated places, places where no one now lived or might ever want to live again. Such, logic said, was a fair definition of a Promised Place for gully dwarves. So Verden led them, on and on, as the days passed. Past the fortress realm of Thorbardin, through wilderness and uncharted lands, beyond Pax Tharkas they journeyed, skirting the beleaguered realms of elf and man.
As she scouted aloft, carrying Glitch I at her breast, the voice of Flame Searclaw again sought her out. Cruel and impatient, its tones as fiery as the ruby scales that flashed when he flew, the red dragon penetrated her mind with his distant voice. 'What are you doing?' he demanded. 'You were told to come, but you are not here. Report!'
'You should be glad I have not come to you, Flame Sear-claw,' she shot back, fiercely. 'We have a score to settle, you and I.'
'Any time you like, green snake,' his voice was contemptuous. 'But first, you have a duty. Why are you not here?'
'I can't come,' she admitted. 'Not just yet. There are these… these creatures. They have a hold on me, and insist that I lead them.. somewhere.'
'Creatures?'
In her mind she felt the red dragon's presence, sensing beyond what she had said. Then it recoiled in disbelief. 'Gully Dwarves? You, the great Verden Leafglow, a hostage to… to gully dwarves?' Cruel laughter echoed in the mind-talk. 'What is it they want of you?'
'To take them to their Promised Place. But they don't know where that is!'
'Gully dwarves.' Again the cruel, shadowy laughter. 'Hurry and deal with your… with your new masters, Verden Leafglow. Your presence here is commanded.'
The mind-voice faded and Verden trembled with rage.
'Ouch!'
She glanced down at the struggling Highbulp. 'What?'
