To the Victor

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Of course, kitten," the dragon said, and flipped her tail in an insouciant wave, or perhaps a rude gesture. "You just give me a shout when you're here and ready."

  And then, grinning toothily, smoke curling over her upper lip, she added, "I'll be waiting."

  *~*~*

  May stocked up in the nearest village, getting feed for her horse that he could supplement with grass, and enough food for herself that she could likewise supplement with hunting and foraging. She was relieved to discover that was all she needed; she'd already brought a tent for herself for the trip here.

  She returned to the dragon's tower the next day, dismounting again at the spot where Rutterkin refused to move any further. This time, she didn't bother to shout, just walked up to the edge and cleared her throat before conversationally announcing, "I'm back, dragon."

  The dragon's snout poked out of the window. It seemed like the dragon had been expecting her. "Welcome back, kitten," she drawled playfully. "I see you've not armored up this time."

  "You said you didn't intend to fight me until the last three days," May pointed out evenly. "If you weren't intending to keep your word, you'd have attacked me from behind when I turned away to resupply."

  "Oh!" The dragon sounded surprised. By the observation, or because she hadn't thought of it? "Yeah, you're right, I would, I would have." She sang the last two words in a light warble. "Aw, it's nice to be trusted! Most knights don't bother."

  "I'm playing along with your rules," May pointed out, more bluntly than wry. "So I have to assume you'll keep them."

  "An honest knight, an honest girl," the dragon sighed. "Brings a tear to my eye."

  "Can you cry?"

  "Dragons cannot," the dragon agreed. "The logic follows."

  May snorted softly. She brushed her tunic down to brush the leaves off after her ride, tilting her head as the breeze blew through her short hair. "Before we begin, dragon, let me speak to the princess."

  "The princess doesn't want to speak to you," the dragon said, tone still light but with an edge of warning in it.

  "Let me see her, then," May insisted. "From everything I've heard, she's been in this tower at least thirty years, if not many more. How am I to be sure she's even in there, and you're not just having me on?"

  "How rude," the dragon said, but her snout withdrew.

  For a moment, May thought that was the end of that—that she'd been dismissed, and would get no further. Even if she wanted to fight the dragon and retrieve the princess, if the dragon stayed inside and refused to come out and fight, she had little recourse. There was no door to the tower, and the smooth walls denied the possibility of handholds. Given time, she might be able to build herself some kind of ladder, but even if the dragon didn't want to do her direct harm, she doubted her supplies would last. She had to rest sometime, and the dragon could easily destroy them then. It would be impossible to lay siege with an army of one.

  But there was movement in the window again, and this time a young lady leaned out, bare arms resting on the stone ledge, her black hair tumbling down nearly halfway down the tower. At this distance, and with the wind blowing her hair like a curtain between them, May couldn't make out the exact details of her face, but she seemed to be smiling.

  "I am the princess of this tower," she called down in a high, delicate voice, made so indistinct by the wind that May had to strain to make the words out. "If you beat the dragon's challenges, I will deign to give you my name and go wherever you wish. But I am the dragon's master, not its victim, and I set the rules you will be competing to."

  May swallowed. She raised her hand over her heart, then to the princess, hand up, in the traditional salute. "As my lady commands," she said.

  The princess drew away from the window again, hair trailing snake-like behind until it too vanished. A moment later, the princess having made room, the dragon's snout poked back out. "Well, there you have it," she said, in her loud, clear voice. "Are you satisfied now, kitten?"

  The pet name wasn't getting easier to hear. But now she knew for sure there was a goal to this, a point. May grinned back at the dragon. "Better, lizard," she said. "Though I won't be satisfied until you've started the challenge. Are you going to sit up there all day? I'll get a crick in my neck. But perhaps you fear I'll attack without warning, and that's why you're keeping yourself all tucked away?"

  "Oh, the kitten's teething," the dragon said, laughing, and slid down the tower, winding around and around until she came out on the ground.

  She seemed even larger down here, her face as long as May's body from head to knee, and her snakelike form winding around for a good twenty feet. The last of her feet pulled free from the tower and her entire body plopped down, slightly ungracefully.

  Despite herself, May stared. She had heard stories of knights facing dragons, and even seen some artistic renderings (albeit of dubious quality). But despite it, being face to face with a giant wyrm was quite different from her mental image, inherently intimidating, the sheer physicality of the beast brushing aside any emotional preparation she thought she had made.

  She cleared her throat. "So," she said, and planted her feet apart, drawing herself up to try to look taller than her five and a half feet of height. It was a trick that worked well against the other knights—even if they still literally had to look down on her, they were made aware of how solidly she was planted and how unwilling she was to give first.

  It hardly had the same effect on a dragon, but then, she reminded herself, none of the other knights would be able to intimidate a dragon. Even Ernasius the Giant, over a foot taller than May, would be dwarfed by the length of this beast.

  "So," the dragon agreed. She began to coil like a serpent, small feet tucking themselves away until she was a mound of herself. "Shall I give you today's riddle, then?"

  May let out a slow breath, trying to calm herself. If she thought sensibly and figured out the trick in the words, she could figure out any riddle. They all had answers, and most of them made themselves clear in the telling, if you didn't overthink it. "Do it, lizard."

  "All right, kitten, don't get too eager." The dragon's membranous second eyelid slid out to half cover her eyes, giving her an uncanny, coy look. "In that case... 'On the outside is armor, on the inside is a heart of gold, but between the two is my soft flesh. I can be made to stand firm—but untested, I will run. What am I?'"

  May frowned. An answer seemed obvious, as though it must be 'a knight'. It seemed that way because of the clear mockery in the dragon's flirtatious voice, of the way her lidded eyes were smirking at May.

  But that sort of egotistical answer was absolutely a trap. The dragon had set up a full nine days of trials, where May could fail after any one of them, and if she saw only herself in the place of any other answer, she'd prove herself unworthy right away.

  So she scowled at the dragon fiercely, as if to tell her that the trick was plain. The dragon chortled in return, folding her two front legs under her chin and resting it on them, smirking even more visibly now, pleased.

  Definitely not a knight, then—unless she was over-thinking this and talking herself out of the obvious. But there was no good to be had in doubting her instincts. She shifted from foot to foot, rubbing one booted top against her calf to get rid of a distracting itch.

  Gold inside, armor outside, flesh between. It could be firm or it could run—

  "An egg," May said finally. "The answer's an egg. Or should be, if it isn't."

  The dragon began to chortle aloud. "Should be, she says," she murmured, grinning and showing teeth the size of May's hand. "Defends herself before I've even had a chance to say if she's right or wrong! You're right, though, you're right, little kitten. It's an egg."

  May grinned at her as though showing teeth back was any kind of defense, feeling the relief rush through her on the back of her triumph. One down, then. It was too early to celebrate, but her heart was pounding anyway, half a reaction to the sight of the predator's maw before her and half joy a
t her success. Her fingers were cold and she squeezed her hands open and closed quickly, trying to push warmth back into them. "All right," she said, when she was sure her voice could come out with its usual brash confidence. "So what's next?"

  The dragon yawned widely. "That's it for today!"

  What. "That's it?" May asked, incredulous. "You said we'd match wits for three days!"

  "Yes," the dragon said with an exaggerated patience. "And we matched wits, and it's the first day."

  "I thought—I thought we were going to be matching wits for the full three days," May said, overcome with disbelief. She scrubbed her hands through her short hair, scratching at her scalp as if the small spike of pain could help her recover her senses faster. "One riddle? One?"

  "Ugh, kitten," the dragon said, sprawling out on the ground, more like a cat herself than May had ever been, "that would be so boring. Imagine that, me trying to think up a new intellectual challenge every hour, let alone every few minutes? This is way more interesting."

  "What is," May asked sharply. "Us staring at each other?'

  The dragon actually giggled. "Well," she said, "you can stare if you want, but it might be nicer for you if you got yourself some food and pitched your tent and all that."

  May did, in fact, just stare at the dragon, unable to comprehend the dismissal. And then she puffed her cheeks up, filling her lungs as much as she could with a scream she already knew she wouldn't voice. Instead, she just let her air out slowly, like she could breathe fire.

  "Fine," she said finally. "You're the challenger, lizard. All I need to do is whatever you tell me to. If you've only got one riddle for me today, your wish is my command."

  "Mmhmm," the dragon said. "Besides, you know, this way, you'll worry all day about what I'm going to ask you tomorrow."

  May snorted. Her frustration seemed to drain out suddenly, like the dragon's last smug comment punctured her feelings and left only amusement behind. "Thanks for that. It'll happen, I'm sure."

  "I know," the dragon sighed, happily.

  "Do you need me to catch you any dinner?" May asked, lifting a brow at her archly. "I'd like you to be able to live up to your threat. I shouldn't like it to be too difficult for you to focus due to hunger."

  "Kitten has claws," the dragon chortled. "I'll have some of whatever you make, if you so offer it. Just a human-sized portion, I think, just have a taste. Having to cook for a dragon could be a challenge in and of itself, so thank you for offering."

  May bowed. "And your princess?" she asked solicitously. "She is invited too, of course."

  "She has everything she needs already," the dragon said at once. "Nice try, though."

  May shrugged. It had been worth a shot, the possibility to just get her hands on the girl and go. "Then," she said, "I'll return shortly."

  *~*~*

  She caught a rabbit that night, and after spitting and pan-frying the pieces, she let it cook in a stew along with the vegetables she had purchased. That took some time, so she left it bubbling on the fire as she undid Rutterkin's barding and gave him a good brushing-down, along with a bucket of fresh water from the stream and some grain.

  The dragon stayed by the tower, watching her but not coming any closer, which was just as well. Rutterkin was getting used to having to be near the dragon, but wasn't happy about it. He was jumpy and anxious, eye rolling in that direction every time the dragon shifted, but his training kept him with the camp that May had set up.

  Once she was done tending to Rutterkin, May returned to the fire and stirred the stew, checking the meat and vegetables for doneness before she judged it good enough, and ladled it out into two bowls, taking the dragon at her word for the portion.

  Despite the earlier exchange, the dragon seemed a little surprised to be offered it, cupping the bowl between her two front feet and lapping at it with her narrow tongue. "This is pretty good, kitten," the dragon finally said. "It's been a while since I've had anything like this."

  "What, rough traveler's fare?" May asked. "I can't imagine you cook when you find your own meals. Can't the princess cook?"

  "The princess doesn't cook for me, no," the dragon said wryly. "And certainly she wouldn't cook rough traveler's fare regardless, so it's rare."

  "I can't imagine what she eats around here," May said. "But then, she's been in the tower a long time, from what I've heard, and seems to have hardly aged. Does she need to eat?"

  "All living things need to eat," the dragon said. She tilted the bowl, tongue lapping along the inside and scooping up the rest of the stew in a single mouthful. "Thank you for the meal, kitten. I'll let you get your rest tonight so you're in good shape for tomorrow's riddle."

  And, that suddenly, she withdrew, spiraling up the tower and vanishing into the window.

  "Huh," May said. "That was odd, wasn't it, Rutterkin?"

  Across the clearing, ears pricking up at his name, the horse snorted uncomfortably. May didn't speak again; it wasn't like Rutterkin could answer and, besides, she remembered abruptly how good the dragon's hearing was.

  *~*~*

  May woke early, sunlight filtering in through the walls of her tent. The cold morning air made her lose her sleepiness quickly, and she felt fully awake by the time she crawled out of her bedroll. She shook herself, scrubbing fingers through her hair as much to bring feeling back into her fingers as to undo the pillow's effects, then pushed the tent flap back, wearing only the men's braies and shirt that she'd been sleeping in.

  The dragon's nose peeked out of the window as soon as she heard May stirring, and she snorted a delighted laugh. "What a scandalous view I'm seeing!"

  "What does it matter what a beast sees?" she shot back, grinning up as the cold air colored her cheeks. "With a river so close, I may as well take advantage of it. And I think we'd both appreciate it if I bathed before you sat with me for conversation, unless whatever smoke is in your lungs blocks the smell."

  "Smoke in my lungs," the dragon repeated with a light mocking laugh. "No, my sense of smell is as good as my hearing, kitten. I appreciate it a lot. In fact, if you wait a moment, I've a gift the princess told me to offer."

  May lifted her brows at that, then bowed. "Whatever gift a princess wills me, I'll accept," she said.

  "What a proper response," the dragon shot back, grinning. Her snout withdrew, and May waited patiently until the dragon returned, slithering down and around the tower as she had the day before.

  She had a small bundle hanging from her very front teeth, where she was holding it delicately, and approached May with it. May tensed up a little—impossible not to with a creature this size approaching her—but let the dragon come closer than before.

  The dragon dropped the bundle at May's feet, then scuttled backwards until her body made arches of itself, crouching and watching her.

  Obligingly, May bent and opened it—a woman's handkerchief was the wrapping, embroidered with flowers, and inside was a bar of soap. It was the usual sort of fare at court, a hard soap made of olive oil and ash and assorted other things, but it was scented with some kind of oil, and had pieces of lavender embedded in it.

  "Please pass my thanks on to the princess," May said, smiling, and tucked the handkerchief into the waistband of her braies. "Though I'm sure she hoped only to save her guardian's nose."

  "Yes," the dragon said as May turned to go. "I have always found her to be noble like that."

  *~*~*

  After splashing herself at the river bank and scrubbing herself down with the soap she'd been given, May checked on Rutterkin's feed, dressed herself, and reheated the remains of the stew over a fire. The dragon had returned to the tower, and showed no interest in coming down for another bite when May called, so she shrugged and ate on her own, then did morning exercises and training while waiting for the dragon to take interest in her again.

  It was a bit surprising to be left alone, but given the dragon's statement of the night before that she wasn't going to be doing the challenges all day, and given that the
dragon seemed to have plenty to do in the tower with whatever duties the princess had for her, May supposed it was reasonable enough.

  It was mid-morning when the dragon finally returned again, slithering down to join her as she finished checking over her weaponry.

  "Fancy tools you have there," the dragon said. "Don't suppose you're any good with them?"

  "Suppose you'll find out in a few days," May said, grinning.

  "Such a violent kitten," the dragon sighed. "Though that gives me an idea for the challenge today."

  Obligingly, May put her weaponry to the side, gesturing in front of her. "Take a seat, lizard, and go ahead. I'm ready for whatever you have to give me."

  The dragon sat, equally obliging, folding her front feet and resting her chin on them once more. She narrowed her eyes, watching May, and said, "Who defines morality? What is 'good' and what is 'bad' and how does that affect whether a person is 'good' or 'bad'?"

  May's jaw dropped. Without even thinking about it, she said the first thing on her mind: "That isn't a riddle."

  For a moment, she thought the dragon would pounce on that, on her giving an answer that wasn't an answer, take that as a failure.

  But the dragon didn't even seem to notice the opportunity, or if she did, she must have considered it beneath her. She laughed softly instead, flat tongue flicking between her front teeth.

  "It's not," she agreed. "Honestly, kitten, when did I ever say I was only going to ask you riddles? I said that I'd give you a challenge of wits." She resettled her long body smugly. "And so, you see, here is something you need to have wits to answer."

  Carefully, trying not to make her next comment a statement in case that one would be the 'answer' that might damn her, May said, "Don't you think that that particular question is open-ended? Could you tell me if you have a specific answer in mind that I would have to achieve, when surely philosophers have debated the same with no conclusion for years?"

  That earned her a chuckle—though whether at the questions themselves, or that they were questions, May couldn't be sure. "I'd say so," the dragon agreed. "I don't have an answer in mind so much as an expectation of the quality of the answer. I think that there are plenty of ways to answer it that could show no cleverness at all, and plenty of ways to answer it that will show the ways your mind works."