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Chapter 6

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I climbed into the Pet Pod™, stowed some snacks and water in the pockets in front of me, then strapped in. Yrog watched as I tightened all the straps.

“All set?” Yrog’s voice came from the sound glyphs sewn into the pads on the headrest.

“Ready!” I spoke into the sound glyph on the breath mask.

The pod rocked and shifted as Yrog shrugged into her harness.

“Take off on three,” came Yrog’s disembodied voice, “THREE!”

I was yanked violently up and back as Yrog leaped into the air, but this time, the restraints were adjusted to me and I was held comfortably fast. I watched the city fall away as each beat of Yrog’s wings tugged me higher. Soon we were soaring over the mountains. I donned the breath mask when I started to feel faint.

After a while, I broke the silence of our flight. “Umm.. Yrog? How come Mayor Todd calls you ‘lord’ but Mrs Sarovna calls you ‘lady’?”

“That’s actually a really good question,” came Yrog’s voice from the speaker, “I’m glad you asked. Todd calls me ‘lord’ because most dragons my age are male and the implication of calling a dragon ‘lady’ is that the dragon is immature. That said, it is always best form to address shapeshifters according to the forms they have assumed. Mindy gets away with calling me ‘lady’ all the time because she and I are close, but you will be best served by addressing all dragons in their dragon form as ‘lord’.”

“Oh. Lord Yrog? How come ‘lady’ dragons are immature?”

“Well, little one, by and large, it’s because they are. All dragons are born female. When a dragon gets to about age 500, it will go into its Second Sleep and wake up as a male. Now, there are a few dragons, such as myself, that have hybrid lineages and are parthenogenetic. We never have a Second Sleep and remain female all our lives.”

“What’s parthenogenetic?”

…

[Wisdom +2]

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Sometime later, we landed on our host’s dragon pad and were ushered to a hanger, where to assemble our costumes. I helped Sarah don her costume dress. Dressed, she was the spitting image of an elf princess some 200 years out of fashion. The tiara even cast a glamour that gave Sarah elf ears.

I do believe Mindy is making fun of me.

I turned myself into a unicorned sleipnir and knelt so Sarah could climb on my back. With Sarah thus seated side saddle, we made our way from the landing mesa to the mountainside holding the banquet cavern. A draconian doorman announced our advent.

“The Lord Yrog’erg!”

We entered a vast cavern. In one alcove, a chamber orchestra played and dragons of suitable form and inclination danced. Another alcove was set aside for quieter pursuits of chess, or go, or wist. A portion of the central hall was taken over by transmogrified dragons vying in contests of strength to the delight of a circle of spectators. A long counter carved into the wall held refreshments in diverse portion sizes. Liveried humanoid servants ran helter-skelter, serving drinks and trying to avoid being underneath foot. Everywhere were dragons in riotous forms, mingling, eating, dancing, playing, fighting, and generally ruckusing, each according to their inclination and choice of physiognomy. I descended into the press to look for old friends and new entertainments; Sarah rode on my back, safely above most of the madness.

As one does, after sampling all the various cliques, I decided to sample the fare.

“The Lord Tarx’wargle,” the doorman announced over the din.

I felt Sarah shiver. “Don’t worry, my princess,” I looked back at her, “you’re in my claws now.” My words did not have a salutary effect.

A short while later my Brownian motion toward the snack bar was interrupted by a growl from my right. “Well, if it isn’t the Lady Yrog’erg, showing off her new pet. Enjoying the ride?”

I turned to face the rude dragon in cerebus guise. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Tarx’wargle. I must say, one dog head never could truly express you.”

Two of the heads growled at me. The third, leftmost head sniffed toward Sarah.

“I know that smell. You’re the shepherd I lost.” All three heads focussed on me. “You stole my sheep!”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s quite fair. Those sheep were in my valley, and your shepherd did wager them fair and square.”

“You know lesser beings can’t make a dragon’s wager!”

I moved to face Tarx’wargle directly, and pulled back my lips to reveal nightmare fangs.

“Well then, Tarxy boy, what do you plan to do about it?”

Tarx growled at me. “I challenge you!” One head barked. “If I win, you pay me five gold for each sheep you ate and you give me your precious pet.”

“Alright, Wargeloo, but if I win, I keep Sarah and your sheep, and I get my pick of seven, no, six of your serfs. What’s the contest?”

“Chess. I’ll beat you at your own game, you old hag.”

I broke into a braying laugh. “You’re a thousand years too young to do that. Tell you what, you can play my champion instead.”

I turned my head and looked back at Sarah, “Well little one, ready to play for your future?”