"Tell me," said the dragon.
"Tell? Tell what? Oh, the address, it, ah, would be best to mail it over when-"
"Tell me now."
"Really cannot remember it right now, but-"
"No. The truth."
Lemborg's face radiated anxiety. "Ah, nothing, really, just thought that it would be best to go before ... before the welcome is worn out, and-"
Kalkon's great head darted down close to the gnome, without changing expression except to open its mouth slightly.
"Before they get here!" said the gnome with a shout, stumbling backward and falling on the seat of his pants. His eyes were the size of dinner plates and locked on the dragon's teeth. "Before they get here!"
A brittle silence reigned for a bit. The gnome's hands trembled as he clutched at his white beard.
"They," repeated the dragon, pulling back.
"Really need to go," repeated the gnome urgently, fingers twisting strands of his beard into knots. "Really should go, before the .. . um, before ... It was the passage device generator, there was never the slightest intention of taking the passage device generator from them, it just got in the way when things got out of hand and the time came to get out of there, quickly, before they, um, got to me, and in all the confusion and running everyone happened to wind up on the bridge, and there was the generator on its mounting, and bam, ran right into it, quite foolish of course, and the passage device generator snapped loose and got caught here on this sleeve, right here, and naturally there was no time to remove it or take it back so it came right along back to the Spirit of Mount Nevermind, and lucky thing it was quite light as such things go, so there it was, stuck on this sleeve, and it was left behind, back on the ship"- Lemborg paused for breath.-"and doubtless right now they want it back very badly-they must have it, really, or else their passage device is only so much junk, so they'll certainly come for it fairly soon, perhaps only minutes from now as they were quite close when it became necessary to trigger the high-speed solid-fuel propulsion system, and it would be for the best of all to be gone and far away before they get here. Very far away. Please."
The dragon looked at Lemborg, who looked back, panting.
"I see," said the dragon, and was silent for a minute more.
The gnome began to fidget, looking nervously around the room.
Without further ado, the gleaming dragon came to its feet. It was terrific in size. Its wings stretched out for a moment, twin metal fans as large as clouds. Lemborg looked up from the floor in amazement and awe, as well as with a greatly renewed sense of fear.
"Let us go see your ship," said the dragon, leading the way out of the great hall. Lemborg mutely got up and followed. Above them, the armored man on the throne looked down unmoved.
*****
The sunlight outdoors blinded Lemborg briefly, forcing him to feel his way along a wall until he bumped into a marble statue base. He was astonished at the great size of the building he was in, but the actual city itself-once he was able to see again-was grander by far. Domes, towers, spires, columns, and high-peaked roofs surrounded the immense open plaza before him. He and the huge dragon stood at the top of a wide, high set of steps that dropped two stories to the plaza itself, so he had a great view of the abandoned city. Most structures seemed to be of the same washed-out shade of gray or tan stone; only the blue in the sky lent color to the scene. Even so, the architecture was delicate and awe-inspiring, and surprisingly well preserved.
Lemborg quickly focused on the central feature of the open, dune-covered plaza below: the remains of the Spirit of Mount Nevermind, Mark XXVIII-B. His gaze ran over the battered, smoldering wreckage for a few moments. Then he sat down on the warm top step with a long sigh.
"Could have been worse," he muttered. "Name is still legible, at least."
"Was there any possibility you could have been killed?" Kalkon asked, looking in the same direction.
"Killed? Oh, possible, sure. Everything's possible. Happened on the first twenty-seven attempted missions, certainly." He stared at the wreck, his face reflecting defeat. "Stern is gone. Could be a problem. No landing gear. No maneuvering tanks. Landing wings. Running lights. Steering fins. Drogue chute." He sighed again, more softly now. "Ten, twelve weeks at most at dock number two in the lake yards, then a year for the paperwork."
"At Mount Nevermind," the dragon added.
"Yes," said the gnome, closing his eyes. "Not here."
The dragon waited a moment, then said, "They were trying to kill you."
"Eh?" Startled, the gnome opened his eyes. "Oh, yes, of course. They were-" He shivered violently, wrapping his arms around himself as if freezing. He abruptly stood up. One hand crept to the top of his balding head and gingerly felt the skin there. "Best to be going soon," he said in a low voice.
"Before they get here," supplied the dragon.
"Yes," said the gnome. "Yes. Best to leave soon. Now, perhaps."
The dragon raised its head, its long snout turning up to sniff the wind. It closed its eyes and became motionless for a full minute. Then it lowered its head and looked at Lemborg again. "No one has arrived yet. Nothing has changed. You are safe here with me for the present. Come back inside, and let us consider the situation and the options."
The gnome followed the dragon back into the building. Lemborg looked around as he did, noticing again the profusion of paintings on the walls and ceilings. Much of the metalwork present-stair railings, robed human statues, wall sconces, table furnishings-bore little rust or corrosion, but a layer of grit covered everything. Lemborg's short boots crushed sand beneath them. The dragon's tread was a soft, rhythmic earthquake that rumbled through the rooms and halls.
"Nice home," Lemborg finally said.
"This was the administration building," said Kalkon. "The city was called Lake Cantrios. There was a large lake to the east, against the city wall. The city was a resort for the wealthy of old Solamnia, a place of refuge and amusement. The amphitheater still stands, though the barracks are fallen and the gladiatorial arena is in poor repair. The Cataclysm drained the lake, burned off the crops to the north and south, and broke the irrigation tunnels. There was a windstorm, too, I believe, and the temple is missing a tower, as I mentioned. Otherwise, despite the sand, it is in good order. The citizens have been gone not quite four centuries, but with the dry air preserving the city, it is almost like they left yesterday. Lake Cantrios was forgotten by all until I found it again. That was only ... only a few years ago."
Lemborg started to frame a question, opening his mouth.
"I rule alone here," said Kalkon. "No other beast or being will trouble us. They are not eager to challenge me for the privilege."
Lemborg stopped walking and stared up at the dragon, mouth still open.
"I do not read minds, really," said Kalkon without turning around, "but I know the mortal mind well enough to predict the more likely responses. Your thoughts are safe."
"Oh," said the gnome. He was silent as he walked into a particularly huge chamber behind the dragon. The dragon trod heavily toward the far end, half-turned toward Lemborg, and settled its great scaled belly on the dusty marble floor. Its tail slowly whipped back and forth through the air before settling to the floor as well.
"Welcome to my throne room," Kalkon said, tossing its head in a gentle arc to take in the whole chamber. The dragon's great voice echoed from the distant walls and pillars. No furniture was present. The paintings were too distant to make out clearly.
"Thanks," mumbled Lemborg. He looked around, still anxious, and licked his dry lips. "Should be about time to go," he added.
"There is still time," said the dragon. "Come closer."
The gnome hesitated, then did as he was told.
"Forgive me," said Kalkon. "There is much I need to know in order to make a proper decision, and my personal method of investigation has always proven to be the best."
"Wha-" said Lemborg.
The dragon uttered a word of power. Its eyes
instantly grew in the gnome's vision until they filled the entire world. Lemborg's mind emptied and awaited a command.
"Remember now," said Kalkon. "Think of the enemy. Think of what happened that brought you here."
Lemborg rocked back on his heels but remained standing. His eyes were unfocused and glazed. He had a dream.
The dragon closed its own eyes and saw the dream:
There was fire and thunder, and the technojammer Spirit was aloft, a vessel that flew without magic. The gnomes had done the impossible. The pilot shouted with joy, pulled metal levers and twisted knobs. The cabin shook, but the sky outside steadily turned from blue to dark blue to black, and there were stars all around, stars like the glowing dust of gems, more stars than grains of sand in a desert. In the window was a vast globe across which blue seas and dark lands passed, and whorls of white turned like pinwheels. The pilot looked down in wonder, forgetful of all but the glory of his homeworld of Krynn.
But the pilot soon saw another ship there above the world, a spelljammer that flew by magic, and it moved faster than did the Spirit. It looked like a huge coiled shell, this other ship, with long straight tentacles reaching forward from the mouth of the great shell, and this ship moved alongside the gnome's ship as crewmen caught it fast with ropes. With dull, lifeless eyes, the same crewmen then caught the gnome and forcibly brought him aboard the coiled ship to meet his new masters.
The gnome pilot had read about this type of ship, called a nautiloid. He had read of its masters and knew certain frightening rumors about them, and the men with lifeless eyes took the little pilot to those masters, who were preparing to eat a meal when their guest arrived.
It was the meal that the gnome pilot remembered most clearly and would never forget, the meal that fought as it was held down. The gnome saw one of the purple-skinned masters silently lower its tentacled face over the screaming man's head and-
Kalkon leaped to all four feet, jaws apart and all teeth bare and gleaming. The dragon's great tail lashed back and slapped a wall, shattering the painted plaster into white dust. For long minutes, the dragon's breath bellowed hoarsely through the building, echoing down every hall.
Pushing aside the repellent image at last, Kalkon looked down at the entranced gnome who gazed up at her with glassy eyes.
He is just a gnome, she thought. He is like a child in the world, and wicked things are coming for him. But he is not my child. My children are gone. He is a gnome with no one to save him. I could leave him here, and the wicked things would surely find him, and I would think no more about it. I was not there for my own eggs, and a wicked thing took them. I let them be held for ransom, but the promise was a lie, and now my children are lost and gone. I was not there for them. I gave my children into the claws of evil and let them go. He is not my child. He is not my child. But-
Kalkon heard a faint sound, not one that a human or a gnome would have heard. Kalkon raised her head. Wind blew against a swiftly moving object, a flying object, and she heard it clearly now. It was three miles away.
She looked down at the gnome. "Lemborg," she said. The gnome blinked and stirred, awakening, and raised an unsteady hand to his face. "Lemborg, we must leave now."
*****
It was, of course, too late to leave the abandoned city. The little gnome had been dead right that they would arrive shortly in search of him. It was not yet too late to prepare, though the useful preparations were few.
Still, Kalkon was not particularly worried. The brain eaters had their own flying ship, but she was Kalkon, and this was her city. She hustled Lemborg out of the way, hiding him in a basement room that was undoubtedly once a mortuary (but she didn't tell him that). Then she meditated briefly, spoke the name of a spell, and became invisible. That done, she went quietly outside into the noon sun to greet the invaders.
The first thing she noticed upon getting outside was that the invaders were already over her city. That was rather quick, she thought, looking steadily up at the curious device drifting over the stadium. It was just as the gnome had remembered it: a golden coiled shell, set upright, from the mouth of which several interwoven wooden tentacles projected forward, forming a pointed bow. A tall pole with skulls tied to it arose from the middle of the device, and a peculiar sail projected from the back side of the coiled shell. A rudder hung from the bottom of the tentacled hull.
The invaders' ship was quite large. Kalkon eyed the flying ship and thought it was only slightly shorter than her own length of two hundred fifteen feet. She guessed the ship was entirely made of wood. Excellent: If it was wood, it would burn.
She carefully took up a position at the bottom of the steps, facing directly into the central plaza where smoke still rose from the charred remains of the Spirit of Mount Nevermind, and waited. She remained there for twenty minutes, watching as the flying ship circled the city. Then it drifted closer, cruising along until it was just over the Spirit.
Her mouth opened, preparing for her attack, when without warning the ship shot straight upward into the sky. Kalkon had the shocked impression that the ship had been fired from a bow. She stood there dumbly, looking up in astonishment as the ship became a dot against the blue zenith, then vanished altogether.
She waited in the silent plaza for an hour more, saw and heard nothing, then snorted in uncertainty. She took wing, flew around her city, and saw that it was intact. Dispelling her invisibility, she returned to the administration building to get the little gnome.
"Problem resolved?" the gnome asked fretfully, glad to be out of the basement room. (He had figured out for himself that it had once been a mortuary.)
"It would seem so," said Kalkon easily. She described the ship, its actions, and its hasty departure.
Lemborg listened but wasn't comforted. "A repeat visit might still be forthcoming," he muttered, unconsciously wringing his hands.
"Or it might not," said the dragon. She regarded the gnome in thought. "I am curious to know the nature of this passage device generator that you took from them."
Lemborg sighed and explained. Apparently, each group of worlds and their sun was encased in an unbreakable sphere of unthinkable size. A "door" through this sphere into other spheres could be opened only by using a passage device, and the generator provided the magic to power the device. The creatures who had tried to kill Lemborg could not leave this group of worlds without their generator; they were stuck in this sphere for good, and they were not likely to appreciate that if they had business elsewhere.
Kalkon nodded understanding, though it was just so much garbage to her. A doorway in the heavens-the idea beggared reason. Trust a gnome to believe in such a thing. Still, his story held up so far. She elected to wait before rendering a final verdict on the issue.
That done, she waited a polite interval before asking, "Do you play khas?"
"Khas?" The gnome's hands slowed in their wringing. "There is a khas set here?"
"The best," said Kalkon.
Lemborg soon admitted that, indeed, Kalkon had the finest khas set in Ansalon, so far as he knew. They started a game as Lemborg ate his way through a pouch of dried fruit he had managed to salvage from the wreckage of his ship. ("Certainly looked real, anyway," he commented about the gargoyle statue in the middle of the dry fountain, whose grinning face had peered into his broken command window upon his landing.)
It was during their long game in Kalkon's throne room that Lemborg began to talk. Evening fell as he described Mount Nevermind's gnome-on-the-moons wildspace program to Kalkon in great detail, revealing how tinker-gnome colonies would be founded on every one of the wandering stars in the sky that he called planets, and how gnomes no longer had to rely on balky, unreliable magical spelljammers to enter space, now that wonderful mechanized technojammers could be used instead, assuming that no more of them blew up on ignition.
"Of course," he went on breathlessly, "reports are constantly received at the Bureau of Colonization, Deportation, and Missing Luggage that the gnomes of Mount Nevermind h
ave already established footholds on numerous worlds, in this sphere and others, but future models of the Spirit of Mount Nevermind will ensure that this trickle turns into a raging flood, a great storm of gnomish civilization and enlightenment that will transform the spheres. There will be steam-powered refrigerators and whoosh wagons for everyone."
"I see," said Kalkon, carefully scooting a blue rook along the board with a long foreclaw. She examined the hexagonal board with one eye, then nodded approval. She had not a clue as to what the gnome was talking about, but talking seemed to ease his mind.
Lemborg moved a white cavalryman only a second later. "This expansionist phase is beneficial for the gnomes as well as for the future of the spheres, of course," he added, chewing on a dried fig. "Recent demographic statistics indicate that subterranean urban growth at Mount Nevermind is proceeding along an exponential function thanks to the development of reliable hydrodynamic aquaculture and the successful mass production of nonpoisonous artificial foodstuffs like snerg and goofunx and kwatz and-well, no, hoirk still causes twenty percent fatalities, so the bugs are not quite out of that one, but three out of four is still marvelous. The children seem to love goofunx and cannot get enough of it, though it does cause numerous cavities." He shifted in his chair and looked up expectantly at the other player. "Remarkable to find a gold dragon so interested in applied technology."
"Brass," said Kalkon. She hated the way the gnome just moved pieces without thinking about it first. It was driving her crazy.
"Pardon?"
"I am a brass dragon. You thought I was a gold dragon?"
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