His eyes widened at her fluency in the draconic tongue. Honoured Yarimda, you and your granddaughter shall room with me in my own lair. We are a little busy, as you can tell. Much ado about happenings beyond the desert. With a wink back at the walking sack of hide, he added, Dragon, you’ll sleep outside, of course. Princesses, this way, if you please.
In the guise of taking care of the elderly, he slipped them away into his small lair.
Once inside the cosy space, the Master settled Yarimda in a comfortable nest of cushions and fetched water for her. Inzashu rooted out herbs for her to eat and a couple of peppery oils that she rubbed into her wrists and temples. Meantime, Dragon made stumbling explanations.
“You are moulting,” Juggernaut confirmed bluntly. “Heard it happens with some Dragons of the Archipelago. Don’t worry, you’ll probably still have draconic hide underneath – imagine the bits leaking out between your ribs otherwise?”
Inzashu giggled as he prodded her ribs, exactly as one would tease a hatchling. He tried not to show surprise. The warrior Dragon liked younglings? Revelation!
Juggernaut aimed a glance sourer than a hundred lemons in his direction.
Ahem. Moving swiftly on … he said, “Did you hear –”
“Aye, Dragon. Reports reached the Tamarine Mountains of a Skartun army besieging N’ginta Citadel, including the detail that they field Dragon slaves in battle. This is what has riled up our kin – not many, by my wings – but some. These ones may decide to act, but as you know, agreeing on anything between the Dragon Clans may take a considerable length of time. Not to mention the politics. Blood will be spilled. Your reports will be invaluable.”
Turning to Yardi, Juggernaut said, “So, you’re an armourer? Ever worked with Dragon armour and forges heated by Dragon fire and magic?”
“No, Master,” she said.
Intrigued by his manner, Dragon put in, “Were you looking for an armourer, Master?”
His muzzle bobbed curtly. “There are three Grinder Clan smiths who specialise in Dragon armour, but even they will tell you that many of the smaller components, joints, buckles and so on, are far better produced by skilled Human hands. I am hiring. Interested?”
Smiling at his bold manner, Yardi said, “I’ve never worked with Dragons before.”
“Is this body armour your work?”
“It is –”
“You’re hired.”
“Dragon,” she said, pushing his paw away, “you are very forceful. Two things. One, I cannot afford to work for free. Two, I would need to settle my grandmother in Hamirythe Kingdom before committing to a war effort.”
“How long would you need? What is your price?”
Folding her muscular arms across her chest, she stared at the warrior Dragon. Bold! Clearly, something passed between them, because Juggernaut cleared his throat and twin spots of colour appeared in Yardi’s cheeks. She said, “I’m inspired by Princess Azania, honoured Juggernaut. I would gladly serve the Dragonkind with my talents and seize the chance to learn new skills. I would take … one standard gold bar a month.”
Azania’s eyebrows shot up at her price.
The Dragon dipped his chin. “I demand nothing but your best work, that you recruit at least ten more blacksmiths and armourers during your travels to the North and West, and I will push you to work harder than ever before in your life –”
“You want me to manage a team of Human smiths?”
“Can’t handle the job?”
“I don’t browbeat easily, Dragon!”
Juggernaut’s gruff laughter broke the tension. “Exactly what I like best about you. If I wanted to recruit a waif, I’d find some expensive little chit of a desert Princess –”
“Excuse me!” Azania almost howled.
“Something I said, Highness?” the gladiator snorted humorously.
“Yardi, do me a favour and shrink his hoard, would you?” she complained.
She said, “For that service, I’ll offer two gold bars a month, and a percentage of each Smith’s wages –”
“Done!” Juggernaut growled, biting back on a curl of flame. “Or would you like to press me on the percentage, too?”
“Ten?”
He stuck out his paw. “When can you start?”
Azania put in slyly, “I wonder how many single Armourers a woman can recruit in a hurry?”
Yardi mimed flicking her away like a beetle. She shook Juggernaut’s proffered talon gravely, saying, “Not quite the future I expected, but life can be strange sometimes. Dragon, would you consider flying us as far as Dorline or even Fara’ane? I’d return far quicker.”
He drawled, “How may I best fleece you, rich girl? Two gold clinkers per mile?”
“Even I can’t afford that,” his Princess pointed out.
After a shared chuckle, they decided they had better talk about strategy.
* * * *
The rich, tropical vegetation of Juggernaut’s lair depended upon underground volcanic activity. Compared to the snowy mountains all around, the humid heat was a balm, the perfect medicine for weary wings. Despite that there were plenty of springs about, all were in use. Evidently, cooking one’s posterior was an aid to enthusiastic conversation. One such pool was occupied by his sniggering brothers, cosying up to a pair of grass-green Obliterator Dragonesses. Pah. Their commentary on the state of his scales made the Dragonesses giggle merrily. To his great annoyance, his brothers were both funny and accurate – but then, a pair of muzzles were summarily put out of joint when one of the Dragonesses cooed:
So, you fought in a real war, Dragon?
With help, he grinned in realisation. Razed whole troops of Humans, devastated their encampment and rescued twenty-six Dragons from captivity.
And contracted the world’s worst case of scale rot, Brawl put in snidely.
The Dragoness winked at him over his brother’s back. That must have taken a real Dragon.
Ooh, his brother’s face! His lips curled as if he had been force-fed curdled milk. Seemed not
