"What relationship?"
"The two of you have clearly formed an alliance."
"An alliance? Well, he enjoys giving me leaves. Is that the basis of a good alliance?"
"I wouldn’t know,” Vyrathion drawls. “I’ve never been in one. You should be extraordinarily wary of a dragon suggesting anything like it.”
The confidence with which he says this almost makes me ask for details. Unfortunately, I suspect he actually has some. Before I can respond, movement catches my eye.
A Plood emerges from the undergrowth. Then another and another.
I straighten. "This is almost too much."
The newcomers waddle into the clearing carrying armfuls of yellow objects. One has flowers. Another has fruit. A third carries what appears to be a collection of shells from sometablet-sized insect. They march directly toward Vyrathion and the first Plood carefully places his flowers at his feet. The second adds his fruit. The third deposits his insect shells. Then all three stare up at him expectantly.
I glance at Vyrathion.
Vyrathion glances back at me. “This is your doing. And still no gold.”
Another Plood appears. And another, and another. Within minutes the clearing is crowded with Plood, bringing their offerings.
They emerge from every direction carrying tribute. Yellow stones. Yellow roots. Yellow leaves. Yellow mushrooms. One enthusiastic individual drags what appears to be a dead yellow dinosaur.
The offerings continue piling up around us.
"This is getting ridiculous," I say.
“Oh, you really think so? You really think this has atingeof the farcical to it?” The sarcasm in the dragon's voice could cut glass.
A particularly large Plood approaches carrying a bundle of yellow flowers nearly as big as himself. He struggles across the clearing, reaches me and proudly drops them at my feet.
Then he bows.
Vyrathion slowly unfolds his arms. "At the very least," he says, "they realize that I am the dragon."
Another Plood arrives with a yellow stone. Then another.
Clyde waddles into the center of the gathering and begins inspecting the offerings. I watch with growing amusement as he picks up a yellow fruit, examines it and sets it aside. He studies a beetle shell and moves it into another pile. When a newcomer arrives carrying a brown rock, the little creature immediately pushes it away.
The newcomer scurries off looking embarrassed.
Clyde turns toward the next offering.
Vyrathion stares. "He's organizing them."
"It looks that way,” I agree.
The dragon narrows his eyes. "He has authority."
"Maybe."
"He has followers."
I smile. "There appear to be dozens."
The little Plood points toward a pile of yellow leaves. Several other Plood immediately begin rearranging them.
Vyrathion tilts his head to the side. "My servant’s servant has servants. While amusing, it’s also more evidence."
