“I’m fine,” I snap. “Less talking, more walking. And more gold.”
“Can I ask where we’re going?”
“No,” I tell her.
But perhaps I should think about it. The important thing is to avoid Praxigor. In his dragon form, confronting him would be unwise. Even I have no desire to test myself against a healthy dragon while trapped in this cursed form.
And I should avoid the slayer tribes, too. They tend to attack in packs, with long swords and sometimes spears. I don’t need that kind of distraction.
Gold is what I want. I should think of nothing else.
Still my mind keeps returning to that female.
Well, she’s only a curiosity, simply a moderately more pleasant path for my mind to take than my goldforsaken surroundings. But I must think of gold.
I divert myself with memories of my actual hoard on planet Copegat, carefully hidden in my lair, the soft dripping of water as I lie on the heap of gold for days and months and years, feeling the gold underneath me, the heat from it strengthening me, my only worry that there is more gold in the world that now other dragons may take while I’m resting, the worry turning into obsession and then forcing me out to get more gold, more, more!
Until I get tricked to come to some desolate planet like this, filled with slayers and with no gold anywhere I can reach it–
No, that memory doesn’t strengthen me.
I try again. Gold under my scales, coins, crowns, diadems, tiaras, figurines, nuggets, rings…
But all I accomplish is to make the hunger worse.
I finally reach the end of the thornbush and stride past it, only to find another a few paces beyond. “This planet is mocking me!”
I turn to Morgan, intending to command her to climb the bush and see if this is a maze we’re entering. But before I can do it, I spot three Plood come towards us on their silly little legs.
“What is it this time?” I ask sourly. “Mud? Sand? Compost?”
The Plood kneel and offer their treasures. As I thought, it’s all trash and I kick their eager hands as usual, so they will know I’m displeased. “No! Idiots! None of this is gold! Getgold!Morgan! You said they’d learn!”
Morgan hurries over and picks up the Plood offerings. “Theyarelearning. Look. This rock is yellow. It’s not gold, but it looks a little like it. This leaf is yellow. This beetle carapace is metallic and yellowish. This… um… item is yellow. And this. See? They’re almost there. I bet if they’d come across gold, they’d have brought it. Yes, good.” She taps on the carapace with one small claw. “More of this. More yellow metal.”
Another Plood comes out of the undergrowth. He’s smaller than the others, and his walk is ungainly, as if one leg is shorter than the other. His eyes are uneven, or his big skull is. I can’t be bothered to determine which.
I prepare myself for the disappointment when he shows me what garbage he’s gathered for me, but to my surprise he doesn’t come to me. He waddles up to Morgan instead, holding up his hand.
Morgan carefully picks a yellow rock out of his hand. “Yes, this is good. Can you find more?”
The little Plood walks back into the jungle, having completely ignored me.
“I see you have a new friend,” I mutter.
“I don’t think he’s my friend,” Morgan says as she brushes her hands together and stands up. “They are a servant species, apparently. Maybe he thinks he serves me.”
“Servesyou?” I ask. “When there’s an actual dragon four paces away?”
6
- Morgan-
Vyrathion’s voice has a dangerous flatness to it.
I shrug. “I don’t know how they think. He looked misshaped. Maybe he’s an unusual one.”
“Unusual on the outside and inside,” the dragon scoffs. “More of an idiot than the others. Come along.” He strides along the new thornbush.
