Posted by PK on November 11, 2001 at 18:17:46:
INTERVIEW WITH THE DRAGON
A jolly little fairy tale by PK.
It was now well into the morning and Elizabeth had almost stopped being frightened and was
edging towards being bored and irritable. She had been chained to this rock, outside what
was supposed to be the dragon's lair, since just before sunrise. The cool of the early morning
had gone and her initial discomfort due to the cold air and the fact that she was half naked
would soon be replaced by an equal discomfort due to the heat. Her chain was too short to
allow her to seek shade inside the cave and she was starting to get perilously close to
sunburn.
Take a minute to picture her, she was well worth picturing. Elizabeth had cornflower blue
eyes, hair black as a raven's wing, lips like cherries, skin white as snow, and so forth. That's
because she was a Princess. Well, actually she was the youngest daughter of the King's
second cousin once removed, but the powers that be deemed that a close enough
connection to satisfy the dragon's supposed preference for royal maiden flesh. Elizabeth
herself didn't see why it should make any difference to the dragon, but her clear and well
reasoned argument to this effect had fallen on deaf ears. It was time for the annual virgin
sacrifice, and she was elected. Ignoring her protests they had hauled her out here, dressed in
the traditional next to nothing, and left in haste. She hated it when nobody listened to her or
took her seriously. Story of my life, she thought bitterly, and not for the first time. Bloody
traditionalists.
What if the dragon doesn't turn up? she wondered. I'll die of thirst, I suppose. That won't be
much fun. Then the scavengers will pick my bones clean and they'll stay here forever,
whitening in the sun. Come on, dragon, she thought half seriously. Breakfast's here. Don't
you like getting up early? Not to your taste, Sir? Maybe you'd prefer a blonde, or someone a
bit plumper?
Half slumped against the rock wall, eyes closed against the sun, she amused herself with
such cheerfully half-delirious thoughts until she lost track of time.
"Hello?"
Elizabeth almost jumped out of her skin. The voice hadn't been THAT loud but...
She blinked furiously. Her heart was suddenly pounding. So that was a dragon. Smaller than
I expected, but big enough. Oh, yes, he was big enough for her.
"I suppose you would be the sacrifice?" the dragon half inquired.
No, I'm hanging around in the wilderness, chained to a rock in my nightie for the fun of it, she
thought.
"Er, yes." is what she actually said.
"Goodness me, is it that time of year already?" the dragon muttered. It wasn't really
addressed to her so Elizabeth just gave a small noncommittal nod.
For a while, nothing more was said. The dragon seemed to be collecting his thoughts. After a
few minutes - it seemed longer - he shifted his attention to her. Evaluating her potential
flavour and nutritional value, she imagined.
"Very nice," he said at last.
Elizabeth gave him a modest, self-deprecating smile. The silence went on a bit longer still
until she couldn't stand it any more.
"What happens now?" she asked nervously.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, sorry. Well, first you take off that little white shift you're wearing - very
fetching it is, I must say, but I don't want to eat it - and those sandals too, please."
"Of course," she responded with automatic politeness.
"Thank you. And then..." he shrugged massively.
"And then..?"
"I'll gobble you up," he finished.
"Gobble me up," echoed Elizabeth faintly. It seemed a bit perfunctory, to say the least.
"Unless, of course......"
"Unless?" She pounced on it.
"Unless you fancy a cup of tea and a chat first."
"And then....?"
Another shrug. "I gobble you up. Or do you prefer 'devour you'?
"I don't suppose it matters," muttered Elizabeth. She suspected that any alternatives would
end up with her getting eaten, but she had expected that. A cup of tea might be nice. It wasn't
every day you get the chance to talk to a dragon, and it seemed unlikely she'd be getting any
more of them. Chances, or days. Anyway, she WAS rather thirsty.
"I'd love a cup, thanks," she said.
"Follow me, then," said the dragon and turned to re-enter the cave.
"Excuse me?" Elizabeth prompted him. "The chains."
"Oh, yes. Sorry, silly of me." he reached out a clawed forelimb and simply touched it to the
manacles, which immediately fell off. Then he plodded off into his dank, foreboding den,
muttering something about a misspent youth as Elizabeth tremulously followed. As they
proceeded it got darker for a while and then lighter again, the illumination coming from
glowing crystals set into the walls. Handy items, she thought. By their light it seemed to her
that the dragon was getting progressively smaller. By the time they reached an oaken door in
the wall of the cave he was only slightly taller than a human, and was walking erect. His
wings and tail had shrunk disproportionately into mere tokens of themselves, and he now
almost resembled nothing more than a big, stocky if rather ophidian humanoid. Almost.
Glancing back at her puzzled face and down at himself, he guessed the tenor of her thought.
"More comfortable indoors at this size," was all the explanation he offered, opening the door.
"Do come in," he added with a courtly gesture. "It's not much, of course, but I find it quite
cosy."
It was clearly a batchelor's domicile, thought Elizabeth as she went in. Not dirty or anything,
she allowed, just not exactly neat. The room they entered, she first of course, was lined with
roughly hewn but serviceable bookshelves. Odd artifacts littered a bench against one wall. In
one corner was a grandfather clock which had stopped. A welcoming fire burned in a large
hearth, on which was an iron grid supporting a kettle, already boiling. The dragon swept a few
odds and ends from a low table between two comfortable if battered looking chairs.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, and went about making the tea, taking the necessary
item from a wall cupboard and a heavy chest of drawers in another corner. The light here
came from perfectly normal oil lamps, very good ones too. Elizabeth sat down in one of the
chairs and looked around, she wasn't in any hurry. The dank cave smell had gone, the room
smelled of old wood, books, herbs and other less identifiable odours. It was not at all
unpleasant, the place certainly seemed lived in.
"Here you are," said the dragon finally, handing her a large pottery mug full of tea. "Milk and
sugar?"
"Just milk, thanks."
With the tea ritual settled, and a plate of biscuits set on the table, the dragon sat down
opposite her. Elizabeth wondered if he could see up her shift and crossed her legs at the
knee. Since that seemed too pointed, she shifted and crossed her ankles instead. Her own
primness embarrassed her, it wasn't as if she was a prude, but upbringing has its way with all
of us. She sipped the tea as he watched almost anxiously.
"This is very good," she said. In fact, it was. "Where do you get all these...er...things?" A
vague wave took in the contents of the room.
"Oh, you pick things up over the years. The fresh stuff is a bit harder. The odd caravan
raided, you know. Tea keeps quite well if it's dry and sugar forever. Milk is a bit of a problem
sometimes."
Elizabeth had so many questions she hardly knew where to start. One of them she was
reluctant to bring up, so of course she could think of nothing else.
"Why the tea?"she asked bluntly. "I mean, if you're going to..." she faltered but the dragon
seemed to have missed it.
"I like it, don't you? Acquired taste, I know, but I've had plenty of time to acquire. Oh, you
mean you. Well, I thought it might be nice. I don't often get a chance to chat, you know. I
love books and all that but sometimes it does get a bit dull out here."
No help for it now, she might as well take the plunge. "I've often wondered, why DO you eat
maidens? If it's not a rude question or anything."
"Not at all. There are two reasons, apart from just being hungry when one chances along.
The main reason is that we have to eat a young woman at least once a year or our powers
will fade and we may even die. That's the lore, anyway."
Another bloody traditionalist, she thought. There's just no getting away from them. "Do you
really know if that's true?" she asked.
"Not really sure, no, but how would I find out? If you were in my position, would you? We
don't live forever by taking silly chances."
"No, I suppose not. And it has to be a Princess?"
"Not at all. Just tradition again, and and I know for a fact that one isn't true. If I relied
exclusively on royalty I'd have come a cropper years ago. A peasant girl or a merchant's
daughter would have done, as long as she scrubbed up nicely."
Great, thought Elizabeth. Couldn't he have told them that yesterday?
"You haven't eaten a woman for nearly a year, then?"
"Oh, no. I mean, yes. I had a nice little milkmaid only last week. I think it was last week. It's a
bugger getting the homespun off though - pardon my Cimmerian - and they're non too clean,
I can tell you. Not like you," he added, regarding her appreciatively. "You're lovely and clean.
Beautiful long white limbs..."
"Er, thank you," Elizabeth interrupted. "You were saying?"
"Oh, the maid. I had to dunk her in the village pond a couple of times, that's all. Tasty
enough after that, though."
"I'm sure she was." Poor girl, she thought. Only a peasant, but still, to go like that...like me.
"What's the other reason, then?" Elizabeth asked though she thought she already knew.
"I just gave it away. We like to. We could survive on sheep and stuff, any large game really,
and mostly we do. Eat enough girls and there won't be any left, you know. That's if the locals
don't get annoyed enough to bring in a really powerful magician or something."
"Or a knight?"
"Oh, knights aren't too much bother if you're not careless. It's no accident the title
'Dragonslayer' isn't bestowed often. Biscuit?"
Another thought occurred to Elizabeth as she took the proffered dainty. "If a milkmaid isn't
very clean, what about sheep? Aren't they a bit...."
"Filthy little buggers - pardon again - but not too bad just after shearing. I much prefer a nice
deer, but they're harder to catch and sometimes you have to take what you can get. Best of
all of course, is a nice young woman like yourself." He smiled.
Elizabeth decided to take it as the gallantry that was clearly intended and smiled back. It
occurred to her that he didn't know her name, or she his.
"Well, since I'm here, my name's Elizabeth," she said, and wondered if he would mind the
breach of manners. It was his house, after all.
"Oh, do forgive me, I should have asked. Pleased to meet you, Elizabeth." He offered a large
scaly hand whch Elizabeth shook. His grip was firm but not ungentle. "I'd tell you my name
but I'm afraid you couldn't pronounce it."
"Please, do try," she replied dryly. Was he condescending to her or was it one of those
magical things? If she knew his name would she have power over him?
"Very well then, it's," and his voice, a pleasant if slightly rough baritone, changed to a deeper
and more guttural register. ".............................".
"I see what you mean," she said at last. No human throat could reproduce half of that.
"Sorry, I did warn you," he said apologetically. "I have other names, usually awarded by my
neighbours, some of them rather melodramatic, most of them unrepeatable in front of a
person of breeding such as yourself. When I associate with humans, which isn't very often as
you may well imagine, I usually tell them to call me Fred, but they just laugh or try not to. I
don't know why."
Elizabeth's mouth quirked. Fred? Keeping a carefully straight face, "I expect they think it a
rather ... short... name for such an impressive person as yourself," she suggested seriously.
Then she saw the affected puzzlement on the dragon's almost human face for what it was,
and burst into laughter. He laughed with her. Finally they both subsided. Fred broke the
silence.
"While I'm remembering my manners, are you hungry? I don't suppose you've had much to
eat since breakfast, and if I remember correctly they bring you out rather early, don't they?"
"Yes, they do." In fact, she hadn't eaten at all.
"Sorry again, but I really had forgotten what day it was. I hope you don't think I left you out in
the sun all that time deliberately? Unforgiveable, of course, but not intentional."
"I'm sure it wasn't," Elizabeth reassured him. "And now you mention it, I wouldn't mind a bite
of something, please."
"No sooner said," he replied and sure enough he produced bread, cheese, honey, a meat pie
and an apple from a larder in an alcove she hadn't noticed before. "Not what you're used to,
I'm sure, but it should take the edge off."
"It's fine, thanks," she managed before falling to with an appetite that surprised her. The
dragon - Fred, she couldn't get used to that - watched in companionable silence as she ate.
When she was nearly sated, another question occurred to her. Why did he have fresh human
food in the house if he rarely had company? He said himself that he wasn't expecting her.
She mentioned as much.
"I eat it myself sometimes," he explained. "It's not enough to keep me going but I like it. You
have no idea how quickly you can get tired of raw sheep. Even eating venison wears a bit
thin after a bit."
She nodded. "I can see that it might." Indicating the remaining half pie, "Aren't you having
any?"
"No, thanks, I'll eat later." He offered a slightly rueful twist of the mouth.
"Ah, yes, of course." Wouldn't want to spoil his appetite. She finished the pie. "You could try
getting a cook, you know." And eat less people.
"I prefer milkmaids, thanks. Or the odd shepherdess or goosegirl. It's hard to get at the inside
staff, that's why I have to eat peasants. Anyway, aren't they all fat and ugly?"
"No, I meant - oh, very funny. I meant, to cook FOR you. "
"Was the food that bad?"
"No, but....oh, you!" Elizabeth knew he was having fun with her but she didn't mind, it was
good natured enough.
"Seriously, it's just not practical. Nobody who was any good would willingly work for a dragon.
Can't blame them, of course. I wouldn't trust myself if I were them, so to speak."
"So where do you get all this?" she asked finally. "Don't tell me you 'raid the odd caravan'
every time you want fresh bread and milk. And pies."
The dragon smiled. "How do you know I can't bake?"
"Bake?" A dragon putting pies and loaves in the oven struck her, somehow, as more
incongruous than the books and furniture.
"Why not? It's hardly alchemy, you know."
"Do you? Anyway, that wouldn't explain where you get the milk. Or the cheese...."
The dragon raised his hands in capitulation. "Such a logical mind. You're quite right. I get the
produce from a neighbouring village once a week. They leave it out for me in a secluded
spot. In return, I don't eat their sheep. Or their maidens, unless they make it too easy."
"Just other villages' sheep and so on."
"Quite correct. The biscuits I made myself, though."
"They're very good."
"Thank you. I'd offer you the recipe, but.."
"Of course. Would you mind if we changed the subject?"
"Not at all." Fred settled comfortably in his chair. "What would you like to talk about?"
Elizabeth glanced around the room. She hardly knew where to start, she had so many
questions. "I want to know everything," she said, realising how silly she sounded the moment
it left her lips, but the dragon only nodded sympathetically.
"Of course. What intelligent person doesn't?"
"It's not easy being nobly born," she said. "I don't suppose it's easy being a peasant either but
sometimes I think I'd rather have been a merchants daughter, or an artisan's. It's just so
bloody stultifying...pardon..."
"Please don't worry about it."
"You probably think it's wonderful having everything done for you, having plenty of food,
beautiful clothes..."
"I imagine the average shepherd would think so."
Elizabeth had the grace to be stung by the justice of the remark, but also the spirit to
challenge it. A lifetime of resentments had its own momentum and she had nothing more to
fear.
"Do you think I don't know that? I'm sure any poor bas... person would envy me my lovely
clean bedroom, my maid, my.... I'm sorry. All very fine if you're a man."
"But?" The dragon assumed she wasn't only referring to her present situation and it would
have been tactless to bring it up.
"I'm a woman of noble blood. I can't go anywhere, do anything, unless it's 'suitable for a well
bred young lady'. It wasn't so bad when I was a little girl but now," she made a grimace of
distaste, "deportment, when I'd rather be out riding. Lessons in courtly etiquette instead of
natural philosophy. Music lessons..." She shuddered.
"I rather like music myself," the dragon offered mildly. "I've always thought it one of the finest
human accomplishments." He remembered a lovely young ballad singer he'd known. She
had recited her entire repertoire at his behest before he'd...
Well, his guest would probably not want to hear about the denouement of that particular
episode.
"Oh, I like music," Elizabeth went on, "but have you heard the sort of thing ladies are
supposed to play? Nothing too intellectually challenging, nothing that could stir the blood or
incite inapproprite thoughts, just the canon of music for young ladies, bland, boring
sickeningly...what's the word?"
"Insipid?" offered Fred helpfully.
"Exactly. And as for those dresses, the court functions - do you know what it's like to wear a
corset and a bustle?"
"You have me at a disadvantage."
"And the pins and combs, the face powder," Elizabeth was in full flood and couldn't stop if
she tried. "The only good thing to happen today," she remembered her manners, "Apart from
the pleasure of your company, of course,"
"Of course."
"..is that I didn't have to wear any of that rubbish."
"I'm delighted and relieved that you didn't." Indigestible and difficult to remove, he didn't say.
"And then there's the books." She looked at the slightly rickety bookshelves lining the
dragon's sanctum. "Have you read all of those?"
"Yes. Most of them. I do have a couple of tomes I have yet to peruse...."
"I have to sneak off to the library when nobody's looking for me. Oh, I'm supposed to be able
to read, of course, but to spend a lot of time reading books when I should be doing all the
things that make me a proper marriage partner for one of my class.."
"Unladylike?"
"Exactly! And if I'm lucky, once my dear father finds a suitable match for me - suitable to my
station and my family's interests, not to me of course, I'll be married off to produce a brood of
young noblemen and more well-bred little girls just like me."
It seemed like a workable breeding programme to the dragon but he did see her point. It
would have been tactless to point out that she needn't worry about that prospect any more, s
he didn't.
"What sort of things do you like to read?" he asked. "By the way, would you like a drop of
brandy in that?"
Elizabeth glance at her tea. It had gone cold.
"I'd love some, but - would it be too much to ask for some fresh tea too?"
"Not at all." The dragon got up and filled the kettle from a spigot in the wall. Elizabeth
wondered absently if he had tapped a natural spring or had a cistern somewhere. While he
busied himself preparing the tea and finding the brandy, she perused the titles on the
bookshelves.
"You have Pandelume's Compendium!"
"Turjan's edition, but nearly complete."
"And Murgen's 'Treatise on the Art'. Down one shelf, just to the right. Some of it is hard to
follow." The dragon added leaves to the pot. The iron kettle was still hot from the last brew
and shouldn't take long to boil.
"Rites of the Elder Gods? You read that?"
"Oh, it's good for a laugh if you have a morbid sense of humour."
"Lafferty's 'Natural Law', and what's this? The Malleus Maleficarum? That's perverse."
"I quite agree. I've seen a witch-burning or two. Even rescued one of them. Lovely lass, she
taught me a quite lot."
Elizabeth didn't ask what had happened to her after that, she didn't want to know.
"Killed all the priests and terrorised the mob first, of course," Fred reminisced. "Well, they
said she was in league with a demon, it seemed appropriate. Here we are." He handed her a
fresh mug of tea, liberally laced with brandy.
"Thank you. Looted the odd caravan, again?"
"Yes. Brandy keeps indefinitely."
They settled back into the chairs.
"Now," said Elizabeth, "about the Compendium..."
After that the conversation ranged far and wide, reflecting their mutual interests and taking
some interesting diversions into speculation. Elizabeth expressed her ideas and opinions
freely and often vehemently, and Fred agreed with some of them, which was pleasing.
Others he disagreed with, always reasonably, which pleased her even more because it
argued that he was not merely humouring her. He never dismissed her ideas out of hand or
condescended to her. She found it refreshing and even exhilarating to be treated like an
intelligent human being by somebody, even if he wasn't exactly a human himself. If he
occasionally gave her what might have been a hungry look, she politely ignored it. The
teapot was refilled more than once, and the brandy flask plied again.
In the middle of a particularly amusing round of discussion, Elizabeth noted absently that she
had forgotten to care about her physical modesty. That seemed reasonable enough. What
matter if he could see up her shift? She would have to take it off before he ate her, and then
his aquaintance with her privacy would exceed anything a mere glimpse could provide. Her
acceptance of this was somehow liberating. She need not watch her words or heed the rules
of courtly etiquette. Her predicament put her beyond them. In a strange way, she felt
comfortable with the dragon. With Fred, that is.
She even began to flirt a little. A certain way of looking, a motion of the limbs, it came on her
in stages so gradual she hardly noticed at first that she was doing it. But Elizabeth, despite
the effects of the brandy, was a very self aware young woman and it dawned on her in a
moment what was happening to her. She found Fred attractive.
"...so the Zothique chronicles, charming though they may be, are actually the work of a
fabulist suspected to be Ashton Smith, not in fact a history at all...
"..um, yes..."
"Is something wrong with my analysis? Are you feeling unwell? You seem distracted."
"No, I..." Elizabeth collected herself. If she hadn't been a little tipsy she might have been
even more embarrassed than she was. "Do you have a ....privy? I need to .."
"Of course. Through the door there." The dragon solicitously directed her out of the room.
Like many a soul who has become drunk in the afternoon, Elizabeth took time to try and
compose herself in the water closet. It no longer surprised her that he had one, though she
did notice with pleasure how much easier it was to empty her bladder in the absence of
underwear. There was even that standard requisite, a mirror into which to gaze and try to
recognise oneself. The attempt failed, as it always does. The only thing to do is take a deep
breath and go back out.
She managed the trip back without difficulty, still wondering. Fred was sitting in his chair
flipping the pages of a book.
"I was looking for a poem I wanted to show you, but I seem to have misplaced it.."
Elizabeth sat down gracelessly, as much as an elegant lady such as herself could, and
sprawled in the chair. "Don't dragons ever get drunk?" she said.
"We do indeed. It takes a lot more than it does for you - metabolism and body weight, of
course - but we're not immune. I try to avoid it if I expect to be flying. Why do you ask?" His
smile indicated more understanding than he professed.
"No particular reason."
"Well then.., ah, here it is."
Elizabeth slumped in her seat, determined to ride it out with the stoicism that had been bred
into her. She wondered if another brandy would help her get through the reading but it would
have been rude to ask. She needn't have worried. The 'poem', when it came, was neither the
sonorous and interminable epic she expected to have to avoid fidgeting through, nor the
flowery and banal piece of nonsense she feared. Instead, it was a bit of comic doggerel,
complete with atrociously clanging rhymes, about the misadventures of a naive and rather
dimwitted dragon obsessed with collecting human treasures. It poked fun, with evenhanded
good nature, both at the draconic tendency to solitary and obsessive behaviour and human
stereotypes of the same. Within minutes, she was giggling. By the end she was laughing in
an immoderate and - dare I say it - unladylike manner.
"So," she said finally, as Fred regarded her with the indulgent smile of one who has enjoyed
sharing an old joke, "Dragons don't really sleep on heaps of gold, then?" She smirked.
"It's been known," he admitted.
"Bit uncomfortable, I'd have thought."
"Not to mention pointless and stupid. Humans produce a lot of things worth having, apart
from the obvious," - the glance he gave her was that of one making a point, not gratuituously
suggestive - "but gold? A little for alchemical purposes, certainly, but on the whole it's pretty
useless. Give me a work of art, a book, a flagon of brandy, a box of tea...."
"But some of them - you - do it?"
"Not many and usually not for long. It attracts attention, you see. Practically a magnet for
fortune seekers, and inept as they mostly are, sooner or later one will get you. And then
there's the risk of a real power getting involved. It's a regrettable fact that humans often get
more upset by their treasuries being rifled than the loss of a few sheep, the odd peasant.." He
trailed off.
"And the occasional Princess."
Apologetic shrug. "Quite."
Elizabeth broke the brief hiatus. "Who wrote that?"
"I did."
"It's very good, you know, you should get it published."
"Kind of you to say so, but it's not that easy. Have you written anything yourself?"
It was her turn to shrug, this time with genuine embarrassment. "Just the usual stuff.
Adolescent meanderings on the meaning of life, all that nonsense. Nothing important." Just
the essence of her hopes and frustrations, laced with half baked melodrama, she thought.
"I'd like to hear one."
Oh, no. Elizabeth stirred her fuddled wits. It would be churlish to refuse, but still...
"If you don't mind my saying so, you look a bit giddy. Perhaps a quick shower would help?
I'm sorry, I must have given you too much brandy. I'll get another pot of tea on."
"Shower?"
"The room next to the privy."
Yes, there was one. As she scrubbed herself down, Elizabeth distracted herself trying to work
out how the plumbing functioned, and how he heated the water. Natural hot springs or a
boiler? More importantly, what could she recite that wouldn't make her look totally stupid.
She brightened. She would give him the one she liked best and he could laugh if he wanted
to.
As she towelled herself and wondered whether to bother dressing again, she noticed a closet
door and opened it. Fresh clothes! Where would a dragon get an assortment of women's
clothing? Very considerate of him...
Oh. Right.
She put her own shift back on but left the flimsy shoes. When she returned to the sitting
room, Fred handed her a mug of tea. It was herbal and fragrant with a refreshing, slightly
astringent tang that cleared her head.
"You don't have to recite if you don't want to," he said.
"I'm afraid I must," she replied, "so sit down and take your medicine."
At first she was hesitant and stumbled with nerves but her voice and manner steadied as she
went on. She put her heart into it, without excess or pretension, holding nothing back. With
the feeling that the worst was over, she sat back and attempted an ironic tone.
"You asked for it," she said.
"Remarkable. Would you mind very much if I transcribed it? Not if you don't wish it, or
course." His manner implied that such a breach of confidence would be unthinkable.
"I don't think I could...you can remember all of it?"
"Perfectly. We have a notation for the vocal inflections too. One day, I wouldn't be surprised
if you humans find a way to transcribe sound. You're a very ingenious race."
"But not as powerful as you..."
The dragon waved that away. "You'll surpass us soon enough. Think about it. May I keep
your heart's song?"
"Yes, of course." Nobody else had heard it, why not him?
"Thank you." He looked as if he had something else to say.
"What's the matter?" Elizabeth wondered. She was still pondering his last remark.
The dragon composed himself. He glanced at the grandfather clock, an oddly pointless
gesture as it was still stopped. "It's time we moved on, I'm afraid."
Elizabeth's heart jumped. She could not pretend to misunderstand. "So soon?" she managed,
aiming for a light tone though her mouth was suddenly dry. "Do you really feel we're ready to
move on to the next stage in our - ah -relationship?"
"Speaking for myself," said the dragon, matching her manner, "I'm quite ready to proceed to
the final stage, the consummation."