“Who was the man on the second floor?” I asked. “He was drinking alone.”
“Basic black, looked angry, felt powerful?”
I nodded.
“Looked like he was having a bad day.”
“That’s Rell,” Gant said. “Balfour lead enforcer. He’s not having a bad day, he’s having a bad century. If you value keeping your limbs attached to your body, stay away from him.”
“Copy that,” I said. “Stay away from the angry, limb-ripping dragon.”
“That puppy of yours trained?” Gant asked, looking down at Peaches. “Our hellhound insurance is basic and doesn’t cover extensive property damage.”
“There’s such a thing as hellhound insurance?”
“There is, and it’s pricey,” Gant said. “Keep him under control. I don’t feel like renovating this place. Too damn expensive.”
“He’s trained and well-behaved, mostly,” I said, glancing at my amazing hellhound. “You have any sausage in this place?”
“You don’t carry meat with you?” Gant asked. “How long since he fed?”
<It feels like forever.>
<It has not been forever. You ate at the bearman’s place. A little while ago.>
<Forever ago.>
“Not that long ago,” I said. “About two hours.”
“Two hours?” Gant said. “You realize hellhound puppies are eating machines?”
“It has come up once or twice,” I said. “That, and he has a black hole for a stomach.”
“He’s not a dog,” Gant said. “Hellhounds have insane metabolisms. Two hours will feel like a lifetime for him. Let me see what I can scrounge up.”
Gant crouched down behind the bar and resurfaced a few minutes later with a large metal bowl filled with sausage.
“Is that regular aluminum?” I asked, looking down at the bowl.
“No, this bowl is carbon steel,” Gant said. “Aluminum wouldn’t last ten seconds with this puppy.”
“Thanks, really, but you don’t have to go through all…”
“This isn’t for your benefit,” Gant interrupted, setting the bowl in front of Peaches. “If you let him get too hungry, that would be a bad thing. For you, and more importantly, for me and my place.”
Peaches gave me the imploring puppy-dog eyes. I nodded and he proceeded to vacuum in the sausages. Each time, it never ceased to amaze. I really was beginning to think his stomach existed in another plane.
“I thought you said this was the Balfour’s place?”
“This place is a TINY,” Gant said, crouching down again, out of sight. “You know what that is?”
“Yes, kind of a portal that leads to another place.”
“Exactly,” Gant said. “This place is like the front door to a larger place located elsewhere. In this case, the Balfour Estate, which is not on this plane. As Head Gatekeeper, I select the location of transition, while Magnus makes the bridge.”
“Isn’t that a bit complicated?” I asked. “I mean, wouldn’t it just be easier to have a place on this plane?”
“Last time they tried that, someone tried to kill an enclave leader,” Gant said. “Needless to say, there were plenty of unhappy dragons ready to rip through one another. Magnus came up with this solution.”
“It’s complicated and clunky.”
“It’s supposed to be,” Gant said, standing up again with a small turquoise crystal in his hand. He handed me the crystal. “This is an emulator. If you carry meat, you can use this crystal to create more. Hellhounds should never, and I mean never, go hungry.”
“The last time I tried to create meat, it didn’t go well.”
“You’re not a mage. Why would you try to create meat?” Gant asked. “Use the emulator. I’m sure the mage can explain it to you.”
“What would happen if he did go hungry?” I asked, curious. “I mean, I would never let him go hungry, but it doesn’t seem like he can ever get enough.”
“Hellhounds,” Gant said with a nod. “Bottomless pits of hunger. If it ever happens, you need to—”
The large wooden door slid to the side, revealing a balcony behind it. On the balcony stood a man dressed in a dark suit with his back to us. He beckoned to Gant without turning to face us.
“Magnus?” I asked.
Gant nodded.
“One moment,” Gant said, raising a finger. “I need to let him know your status before he comes in here. Standard protocol.”
SEVENTEEN
Gant slid the balcony door closed and began speaking to Magnus.
“Our status?” I asked as I observed the conversation between Magnus and Gant. “What does that mean?”
“I would imagine it’s a security concern,” Monty said, sipping his tea. “He would want to know if we took the stairs, as well as if we passed the other security measures I’m sure are in place.”
“I was under the impression dragons were beings of magic.”
“That doesn’t mean they can’t be harmed,” Monty said. “His energy signature, even in this place, is considerable. I would not welcome a confrontation.”
“I second that,” I said. “He’s a dragon; he doesn’t need to be scared of us, so why all the precautions?”
“It would seem our reputation precedes us,” Monty said. “He obviously knows about Slif. I wouldn’t doubt he knows about the Kragzimik as well.”
“Well, shit,” I said. “Not the best way to start a conversation: ‘Hello, I go around killing your kind, you said you wanted to chat?’”
“In your defense, both instances were self-defense,” Monty said after taking another sip of tea. “Slif had a lethal agenda, and the Kragzimik—well, he wanted to eradicate us all.”
“I’m starting to sense a theme, here,” I said. “How long has Magnus been the enclave leader?”
“I’m not certain. I do know he’s an old dragon,” Monty said. “That doesn’t happen by coincidence. He has remained alive this long because he’s careful. Even though this is a neutral zone, Magnus understands the wisdom in taking precautions. James’ establishment is proof of that.”
“True,” I said, “but now Jimmy has Grohn, too. The Randy Rump is super secure as a neutral zone these days.”
“Every security measure can be countered,” Monty said. “Even powerful runic, or in this case, trollgre, ones. All it takes is patience and power.”
“I doubt this Magnus is out there worrying about me, or any of us,” I said, glancing at Monty. “He’s a dragon. I’m surprised he even wants to speak to me.”
“This exercise is called assessing
