'You squishin' me! Don' squeeze so hard!'
You little twit, she thought. I could squeeze the very life out of you with no effort at all. Still, she sensed the self-stone lodged inside the little creature, responding to his discomfort. HER self-stone. It must be protected. Reluctantly, she eased her grip.
Everywhere, the dragonarmies were on the move, and Verden Leafglow ached to join them — to join in the death and destruction they brought. She itched for the sport of it.
A dozen times, holding the smelly, irritating little Highbulp to her breast, she led them to dismal, deserted, unwanted places — splendid places for gully dwarves. But each time, Glitch I, the Highbulp, took a slow, arrogant look around and said, 'Nope, this not it. Try again.'
Verden thought longingly of how pleasant it would be to slice the strutting little twit into a thousand bloody chunks and scatter him all over Ansalon. But for the selfstone lodged within him…
'Not Promised Place,' he insisted, time and again. 'Nope, this place okay for This Place, but not Promised Place. Dragon promise Promised Place. Try again.'
Beyond the Kharolis', while her unwanted charges slept beneath the visible moons, a thoroughly exasperated Verden Leafglow took Glitch and went scouting. On great wings, fully healed if only temporarily, she soared high in the night sky. All her senses at full pitch, she searched, and where ancient scars creased the shattered land, the mind-talk came again.
Like a taunting, contemptuous message, hanging in the air, waiting for her to hear it, it was there. Flame Searclaw's voice, from far away. A chuckle of evil mirth, and words.
'So they still possess you,' it said. 'The least among the least, they search for their heritage. And Verden Leafglow is their slave. How marvelous. There is an answer to your riddle, though.'
'Continue.' Verden Leafglow sneered mentally. 'You have my attention.'
'Destiny,' the non-voice snickered. 'A Highbulp of destiny. And one such as you to guide him. How exquisite.'
Verden growled in fury, but listened.
'Xak Tsaroth,' the dragon voice said. 'Xak Tsaroth is a suitable Promised Place. Xak Tsaroth. The Pitt. They belong there. Let the Pitt be their destiny. And delivering them to such a place, at such a time, is your reward.'
With a final chuckle of deep, taunting amusement, the voice of Flame Searclaw repeated, 'Xak Tsaroth… the Pitt…' and faded.
Xak Tsaroth. Soaring on wide wings, Verden looked down at the Highbulp Glitch I, pressed to her breast. The little twit had, of course, heard none of it. He was sound asleep. Xak Tsaroth. Despite her hatred of Flame Searclaw and the murderous rage she felt toward him, an evil delight grew in Verden. Her reward, indeed. She knew what was in Xak Tsaroth. There could be no finer revenge on the gully dwarves than to deliver them there. Others of their kind were there.. enslaved, abused and at the mercy of draconians. These should join them.
The idea was very sweet to her.
Verden Leafglow had returned to the combined clans by the time they awakened. Like a great, serpentine pillar of brilliant emerald, she towered above them. Her vast wings were radiant in the morning sun and her formidable fangs alight in her dragon mouth. Little Highbulp seemed a ragged doll clenched at her breast. Huge and malevolent, Verden Leafglow loomed over the puny creatures — and shuddered with revulsion when one of them tripped sleepily over her toe.
Without ceremony, she rousted them out and told them, 'I have found your Promised Place. Get a move on, and I'll take you there.'
'No hurry,' Glitch squirmed in her grasp. 'This place not bad This Place. Maybe stay here a while, then go.'
'We go now,' she hissed.
Gandy squinted up at her. 'Where is Promised Place?'
'Xak Tsaroth.'
'Bless dragon,' Minna said.
'What?'
'Dragon sneeze.'
'I did not sneeze! I never sneeze. I said, 'Xak Tsaroth'.'
'Bless dragon,' Minna repeated. 'Where Promised Place?'
Verden shook her head as though insects were tormenting her. 'The Pitt,' she said.
All around her, gully dwarves glanced at one another with real interest. 'That sound pretty good,' several decided.
'Sound all right,' Glitch conceded. 'Maybe think 'bout that, day or so, then…'
'Shut up!' Verden roared. 'We go now!'
Never before — as far as anyone who might have cared knew — had gully dwarves traveled as fast or as purposefully as the combined clans of Bulp traveled during the following two days. It was a nearly exhausted band that gathered by evening's light to gaze on Xak Tsaroth. They stood at the top of a high, sheared slope above shadowed depths, and looked out at distant crags beyond which were the waters of Newsea.
'The Promised Place,' Verden Leafglow told them. 'I have brought you here, as I promised. I have kept my word.'
'Promised Place?' The Highbulp squinted around. 'Where?'
'Down there,' Verden pointed downward with a deadly, eloquent talon. 'The Pitt.' Not gently, she set Glitch down and said, 'This is it. Now cough up my stone.'
Tagg crept to the edge and looked down. It was a slope of sheer rock, a vertiginous incline that dropped away into shadows far below. 'Wow,' he said.
The Highbulp only glanced into the depths, then turned away, an arrogant, scheming grin on his face. 'Prob'ly not it,' he decided. 'Nope, prob'ly not Promised Place. Better try again.' With a casual wave of his hand, he added, 'Dragon dis — dismiss for now. Highbulp send for you when need you.'
It was just too much for Verden Leaf glow. She had taken more than she could stand. 'Dismissed? You imbecilic little twit, you dismiss we? Rats!'
Gully dwarves backpedaled all around her, tumbling over one another. Some went over the edge, sliding and rolling away toward the shadowed depths. Others turned to watch them go. 'They really movin',' someone said. 'That steep.' 'Smooth, though,' another noted. 'Good slide.'
'Rats!' Verden roared again, exasperated beyond reason and reverting to the vernacular of her charges. 'RATS!' Annoyed beyond control, she aimed a swat at Glitch. The Highbulp dodged aside, ducked
… and belched. Something shot from his mouth, to bounce to a stop at Verden's foot. She scooped it up. It was her selfstone. She had it back, intact.
'Rats,' Gandy said, realizing that the good times were over.
'That right,' the Highbulp remembered, snapping his fingers. 'Rats, too. Dragon promise us rats.'
'You… want… rats?' The huge, dragon face lowered itself, nose to nose with the little Highbulp. 'You want rats? Very well. You shall have rats.'
Closing her eyes, she murmured a spell, and her dragon-senses heard the scurrying of tiny things in the distance — sounds below sound that grew in volume as they came closer.
The gully dwarves heard it then, too, and stared about in wonder. The sounds grew, seeming to come from everywhere. Then there were little, dark shadows arrowing toward them, emerging from crevices, coming over rises and up gullies — dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of small, scurrying things, homing in on them. Rats. A leaping, bounding, flowing tide of rats.
'Wow,' Tagg murmured.
'Lotta rats,' Minna concurred. 'Gonna make lotta stew, for sure.'
Clout, never one to be concerned with details, brandished his bashing tool and prepared to deal with dinner.
Gandy, though, took a different view of the matter, 'Too much rats,' he started. 'Way too much rats for…'
The tidal wave of rats swept around them, under them, over them — and carried them with it. A second later, Verden Leafglow stood alone on the ledge, looking down at a slope awash with rats and gully dwarves, all
