“Does this have anything to do with the vertaga traps?” Khollo asked.
“Funny you should mention that, because it actually does,” Sermas said, grinning. “There will be some nasty surprises for those monsters all along the outer wall, and they won’t require us to do anything except watch. Of course, the oil jars the kitchen staff is putting together are exciting and dangerous and we’ve found a way to contain the fire so that it explodes with more force – ”
“Sounds impressive,” Khollo muttered.
“And deadly!” Hern said cheerfully. “So, what did you need, Khollo?”
Khollo shrugged. “Just thought I’d see what was happening,” he said uncertainly. “I’ve got to ask Janis if there’s anywhere around here a dragon can sleep though.”
“There’s some open space between the north gate and the fields,” Sermas said helpfully. “The area was sheltered from the worst of the snow by the hill and the ground is mostly bare as a result.”
“We’ll take a look, thanks,” Khollo said. “Any chance you’ll tell me what this brilliant contraption is?”
“None,” the two cadets said in unison.
“Didn’t think so,” Khollo muttered. “Well, good luck. I’ll let you get back to work.”
Khollo walked over to where the smiths were sitting. Tarrik reached up and shook Khollo’s hand, smiling.
“Good to see you again, lad, West Bank wasn’t the same without you.” The other two smiths murmured agreement.
Khollo shrugged modestly. “You seem to be getting on all right without me. Since when have these two been inventors, Tarrik?”
“Not long,” Tarrik rumbled in a rather dragon-like way. “After your disappearance, they were in a bad way, moping around the fortress and all. They blamed themselves, you see, even though it wasn’t really their fault. So, I told them I could use some help with a few projects and got them into the smithy, banging on things and working out their frustration. It was a good outlet for their pain. A few weeks in though, they began to really enjoy it and wanted to learn more and then the tinkering started.”
“Has anything worked yet?” Khollo asked curiously. “Or has it all been ideas?”
“There have been several successes,” Tarrik replied. “There was a new door latch, very simple but strong, some improvements to a few kitchen items. There have also been a few disasters though. Their first experiments were mainly weapons, bent on avenging you as they were. They wanted to make a weapon with interchangeable heads, spears, single bladed axes, pikes, double bladed axes. Interesting thought, but the screw-together assembly was even more complicated than your Sen-teel and we couldn’t get it to work. That devastated Hern especially, but they got past it eventually.”
“Any idea what they are up to now?”
Tarrik shrugged. “Whatever it is, the vertaga won’t like it, I can assure you of that.”
“I was hoping for a more definite description,” Khollo muttered, disgruntled. “They won’t show me what they’re up to either.”
“They can be quite secretive,” Tarrik agreed. “Maybe because there have been so many disasters. They just want to make sure the idea will work before they tell anyone about it.”
“Maybe,” Khollo agreed. “Well, I’d better go. It’s late and Kanin and I need rest.”
“If you ever need something to do, come on by the smithy,” Tarrik said as Khollo turned to go. He dropped his voice conspiratorially, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Hern and Sermas couldn’t hear him. “You’re still the best apprentice I’ve ever had.”
“I resent that statement!” Hern called over his shoulder. “You’d choose Khollo over your own nephew?”
“Hey, what about me?” Sermas demanded.
“I didn’t say you weren’t my favorite assistants,” Tarrik said, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.
“Favorite assistants?” Sermas asked. “Is that above or below apprentice?”
“Probably below,” Hern replied. “And here I was, getting ready to show him what we’ve done and ask for a professional opinion.”
“Well, don’t show him now,” Sermas urged. “Not until he treats his ‘favorite assistants’ with the proper respect.”
“I am treating them with the proper respect,” Tarrik muttered under his breath. This elicited a fresh storm of complaints and reproaches from Sermas and Hern, who was waving his hammer agitatedly again. Unnoticed, Khollo ducked out of the smithy and fled across the courtyard to Kanin’s side. The dragon was sound asleep, snoring gently, tail twitching every now and then.
Khollo smiled down at his sleeping friend. “Guess we’ll be staying up here tonight,” he murmured. Khollo sat down and leaned against Kanin’s side, pulling a blanket out of his saddlebags. The night was cold, but it wasn’t quite cold enough to be uncomfortable up against Kanin’s warmth.
Still, exhausted as he was, Khollo managed to sleep soundly through the evening and into the early hours of the morning. Until, quite suddenly, he was knocked sideways as Kanin’s wing thrashed violently, clipping him across the head.
Khollo woke with a cry, blood streaming from a cut above his right eye. He looked around wildly, for a moment thinking that the fortress was under attack and he had just been wounded in battle. Then he noticed Kanin twitching and thrashing, grumbling in his sleep.
“Kanin!”
Khollo rolled over and knelt by the dragon’s massive head, trying to discern what was wrong with his friend. Kanin, wake up, you’re dreaming! Khollo pleaded frantically, shoving against his massive bulk, trying to shake him awake. Kanin thrashed once more, narrowly avoiding clipping Khollo again, then he opened his eyes with a growl and lurched forward, knocking Khollo over. His eyes were whirling faster than Khollo had ever seen before, tinged with yellow.
There was a long pause as they sat there, human and dragon, both panting, gulping great lungfuls of the clear, crisp air. Khollo sat up, shaking himself, wiping blood from his forehead.
Are . . . are you okay? He asked
