by Don Perrin
He rose to his feet. The officers came to attention, saluted. Turning on their heels, they marched out the way they had come, led by the sivak guard wearing the colors of the Queen’s Own.
“Damned odd,” was Kang’s comment to himself regarding the interview. “Damned odd.”
“Damned odd,” Kang repeated again, except this time he said it out loud and he said it to Slith.
“What’s odd about it, sir?” Slith asked.
Kang took a moment to respond, due to the fact that his mouth was filled with goat meat. “This is good,” he mumbled.
Slith nodded. The wild goat was tough and stringy, but tasted as good to the half-starved draconian engineers as beef steaks served at a Palanthian lord’s feast. The cooks had watched in admiration, disbelief, and some alarm to see Kang’s troops gorge their way through a week’s rations at one sitting. Slith’s offer to form a hunting party to replenish the fort’s supply of goat meat had been accepted with pleasure and relief.
“What’s odd about it?” Kang repeated, chewing and thinking. He’d been trying to sort it out himself. “I’ll tell you what’s odd. General Maranta hasn’t seen a strange draconian in this fort in over thirty years until we show up, and now he’s talking about expecting more to arrive at any time. Where’s he expect them to come from? Rain down out of the skies?”
“Well, sir, the general does have a point. The world is in a state of confusion. Everywhere we go, some new rumor springs up about who’s in control of what where. There was that tavern keeper who told us that the Dark Knights are in control of both Palanthas and Qualinesti! The Dark Knights ruling the capital cities of both their greatest enemies—the Solamnics and the elves! Who would have believed it?”
“I’m not sure I do,” Kang muttered.
“Then there was that bizarre story we heard from the drunken kender Gloth captured, about monster dragons fighting and killing and eating other dragons. If even half of what we’ve heard is true,” Slith concluded, “then the world’s turned upside down and maybe the turmoil will shake out a few draconians who’ve been in hiding all these years.”
“Maybe.” Kang was unconvinced. “If there are draconians on the move, why would they show up here in this out-of-the-way place? We would have marched right past it, not twenty miles away, and never known of the fort’s existence if the goblins hadn’t dumped us in General Maranta’s lap. ‘Bet good steel on it,’ the general had said. I’d be glad to take that bet, except that I haven’t seen a steel piece in more than a year now.”
Kang shoved his plate aside and heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction. His belly was full. He would sleep the night undisturbed by someone waking him to tell him that gobbos were attacking.
“Maybe it is odd,” Slith admitted. “But then generals have a right to be odd, sir. Considering everything General Maranta’s been through, it would be strange if he wasn’t.”
“I suppose you’re right. Make your report,” Kang said, washing down the goat with a mug of sour, tepid ale. He poured a mugful for Slith, slid it across the table.
“The troops are bivouacked on the parade ground over by the west wall. Prokel offered to let our troops bunk with the others in the fort, but I figured you’d want to keep the regiment together.”
Kang swallowed, nodded, indicated his approval.
“I set the watch,” Slith said in an undertone. “Not on the walls, of course. Prokel said that we should rest tonight and he’ll work our men into the guard detail roster tomorrow. But I thought it would be best if discipline was maintained.”
“Quite right,” Kang said.
Discipline be damned. The real reason Slith had set the watch was that he didn’t trust his fellow draconians. Kang sighed inwardly. In some ways, Slith was as bad as General Maranta. But then, Kang reminded himself, he hadn’t survived this long by taking anything for granted.
“I told them to be discreet,” Slith added.
Kang approved. No sense in offending Prokel or any of the other officers.
“And, get this, sir,” Slith said. “There’re no taverns in this fort!”
“I believe it,” said Kang, grimacing at the ale. “This stuff is horrible.”
“Yes, sir. First Infantry raided a granary and brewed this from the wheat. Horse piss would taste better! As it turns out, they’re down to their last keg. We’re going to need supplies when we leave and, as you say, we don’t have the steel to pay for them. But we could barter. I could set up the distillery. Make some dragon’s breath liquor.”
“But there’s nothing to distill,” Kang protested. “We used up the last of that stolen corn.”
“I’ve been thinking, sir,” Slith said. “One thing we have a lot of around this fort is cactus. With your permission, I’d like to try to see if we could use cactus to make our brew.”
“Cactus?” Kang was doubtful, but he could think of no better solution. “Well, I guess you might as well try it. I don’t suppose cactus could taste any worse than fermented mushrooms.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll harvest some first thing tomorrow.”
“You said that the females are bedded down safely for the night,” Kang said. That was the first question he’d asked on his return from his meeting with the general. “Did they get enough to eat?”
“Yes, sir. I saw to that myself, sir. I’ve doubled their guard.” Slith poured himself another ale, shrugged and shook his head. “They’re not very happy with me, sir. Can’t say that I blame them. That shed is small and they’re crowded in there nose to wingtip. They were all set to go out and explore the fort—”
“You didn’t let them?” Kang demanded, alarmed.
“No, sir!” Slith was offended. “Of course, not, sir! I told them they had to stay inside for their own good. Might be goblins lurking about.”
“Inside the fort?”
“Yeah, I know, but it was all I could come up with,” Slith said. “They were mad as hell. Shanra tried to bite me. Or maybe it was Hanra.” Slith grinned. The sivak twins were favorites of his, though he could never tell them apart. “I thought this time they were going to rebel for sure, sir, and there was only me and Cresel to stop them and half the time he takes their side. But then Fonrar stepped in and told them that if they went roaming about you’d be worried and that you needed your rest, what with your wounds and all. They settled right down after that. Before I left, Fonrar wanted to know how you were, if you’d fainted again, if you were going to have a good meal. She really thinks a lot of you, sir. They all do.”
“I know,” Kang said, embarrassed and humbled. “I wish I deserved it. Everything I’ve tried to do for them seems to turn out wrong. This dream of founding our own city. It’s cost so many of the boys their lives. Maybe I was foolish to even consider it. If we’d stayed where we were, up in the mountains—”
“We’d all be dead by now, sir,” Slith said flatly. “If it wasn’t dwarves trying to kill us, it would have been elves or humans. You know that, sir. You made the right decision. When we reach Teyr, we’ll turn that city into the most impregnable place on Krynn. No one’ll dare attack us, then. We’ll be able to live in peace, like we’ve planned.”
There had been a time when Kang had wondered if draconians could ever live peaceful lives. Born and bred to be warriors, draconians might be doomed to fight and claw their way through life until death came to them in the form of spear or arrow or sword thrust. But this past year, watching his troops tend to the young females, laughing at their antics, taking pride in their accomplishments, teaching them and protecting them, Kang knew for certain that he and other draconians could live in peace.
“If we reach Teyr,” he said gloomily.
“We’ll make it, sir. This stop-off is only temporary.”
“I’m not so certain, Slith.”
Kang glanced around. The two were the only draconians in the mess hall. The cook and his helpers were in the back, rattling pots and banging pans, cleaning up. They made a considerable racket, but Kang guessed tha
t they were keeping him and Slith under surveillance. He kept his voice low.
“And it’s not gobbos I’m worried about—at least for the time being. You didn’t see the gleam in the general’s eye when he started talking about us getting to like it here. He wants us to help strengthen the fortifications and you and I both know that there’s a good six months work to be done around here, if not longer. Once the gobbos are settled, I plan to leave. And I don’t think General Maranta’s going to like that one bit.”
“He’s a general, sir,” said Slith softly. “But he’s not our general! Not anymore. The war’s been over a long, long time.”
“You’re right,” said Kang uneasily. “But I’m afraid that the men won’t see it that way and how will it look to them if I defy a superior officer? What kind of example am I setting? If I refuse to obey him, how can I ask them to obey me the next time I issue an order? No.” Kang shook his head. “That’s not the answer. We’ll have to figure out something else. In the meantime, first light, have the troops start building temporary quarters. Just make sure everyone knows that they’re temporary. If we say often enough that we’re leaving, maybe they’ll start getting used to the idea. And now I guess I better go check on the females—”
Kang stood up, but his knees buckled and he unintentionally sat right back down again.
“No, sir,” said Slith. Sliding his arm underneath his commander’s, he helped Kang stand. “I’ll check on the females. You’re going to bed, sir. No arguments.”
Kang might have argued, but he was too tired. Bed sounded too good. He allowed Slith to help him to the bivouac area, where his troops lay sleeping on the ground. Kang had to look hard to see those on guard duty, but he found them eventually, crouched in the deep shadows cast by the rickety wall.
As for Kang, he would not have to sleep on the ground. Slith had seen to it that the commander’s tent was pitched, the commander’s cot set up. Kang hobbled inside. He collapsed onto the cot on his belly and didn’t move.
Slith removed his commander’s battle-axe. Unstrapping it from between his shoulder blades, Slith stood the axe beside Kang’s bed, within easy reach.
“Good night, sir,” Slith said quietly and left the tent.
The only answer was a gentle snore.
* * * * *
The draconian engineers were up ahead of the sun. They ate an early breakfast and began building their quarters before the break of day. Fonrar was the first of the females to wake up, shaken out of her sleep by the bellows of the bozak smithy, badgering his assistants as they set up the portable forge. She recognized Slith’s voice, calling out the work details, assigning each to a particular task. The sounds of hammering, sawing, thudding and the rhythmic chanting of the work crews rose with the sun.
The storage shed in which they were quartered had no windows, but there were several knotholes in the planks. Fonrar placed her eye to one of these and peered outside. The day had dawned fine, not a cloud in the blue sky. The breeze was fresh and clean, crisp and cool and made her nostrils twitch.
“What’s going on?” came a voice at her side.
“They’re setting up camp,” Fonrar reported.
“Let me see,” Thesik said.
Fonrar moved aside obligingly and Thesik put her eye to the hole, only to stumble backward with a cry. She tumbled over a sleeping baaz, who grumbled and lashed out with an irritated kick.
“What is it?” Fonrar asked, alarmed.
Thesik gasped, pointed at the knothole. “Someone is looking in!”
Putting her eye to the knothole, Fonrar found a red eye peering back in. More eyes appeared at other knotholes. The sounds of whispers and grunts and shuffling feet could be heard clearly. Then came shouts. Gloth’s angry voice lifted above the others.
“Clear out, you dracos! What do you think you’re doing? You look like peeping kender, the lot of you! Shove off before I put you all on report! Cresel, I’ll have that trooper’s name!”
“Wake everybody,” Fonrar ordered Thesik.
Thesik roused the other slumbering females, shaking and kicking them awake, Climbing over her grousing sisters and cousins, Fonrar managed to reach the door to the shed and banged on it urgently.
“Yes, ma’am,” came a voice.
“What’s going on?” Fonrar demanded.
“Nothing, ma’am,” said the voice. “Everything’s under control, ma’am. Go back to sleep.”
Fonrar drew in a seething breath. One would think she was newly hatched! She was about to lose her temper, start shouting, then realized that there was an easier way.
“I have to go to the latrine,” Fonrar said, looking back at the other females to make certain they were listening. “We all do.”
The other females caught on quickly. “I have to go!” they piped up. “Hurry! I can’t wait!”
Fonrar gave the door an experimental shove, found it barred. She sighed deeply and in anger. They were little better than prisoners. The guard was one of the new guards Slith had assigned and he was not prepared for this crisis, apparently, for she heard him ask distractedly what he was supposed to do now. There came a sound of thumps and shouts and confused scuffling. The eyes disappeared abruptly from the knotholes.
After a moment, Fonrar heard Cresel’s voice, slightly out of breath.
“I’ll take over now. What’s the problem?”
“We have to use the latrine,” Fonrar said sternly.
“We have to go! We have to go!” The baaz were chanting loudly now, causing the walls of the rickety shed to rattle and shake.
“You can go in groups of five under guard. When five come back, the next five can go.”
“Cresel!” Fonrar growled threateningly.
“I’m sorry, Fon,” he said. “But it has to be this way. You’ll see why.”
Fonrar made a motion with her hand. The baaz ceased their chant. The females waited expectantly for further orders.
“Shanra, you and Hanra are with me. You, too, Thes.”
“I’m coming, too, ma’am,” said one of the baaz.
“Very well, Riel,” Fonrar said.
Riel was the commander of the baaz, who made up the largest number of the females. She had appointed herself Fon’s bodyguard, in imitation of the baaz who guarded Commander Kang.
“All right, Cresel,” Fonrar said. “The first five are ready to go.”
A bar scraped, a key rattled. Fonrar kept tight control on her resentment. No use lashing out at Cresel. He was just obeying orders. The door swung open. Fonrar stepped out into the fresh air, took a couple of steps, and halted, staring in amazement.
The shed was surrounded by hundreds of strange draconians. They had been peering into the shed, apparently, but had been driven back and were now being kept at a distance. Engineers formed a cordon around the shed, using spears or the flat of their blades to whack anyone who tried to venture in too close.
Completely taken aback, Fonrar looked questioningly at Cresel. “These dracos have never seen females before,” he said quietly. “They’re curious.”
Daunted by the hundreds of pairs of staring eyes, the other females clustered around Fonrar.
“I don’t have to go that bad,” said Shanra uneasily.
“Me, neither,” said her sister.
“We’re going,” said Fonrar sternly. She might need to use this ruse again and didn’t want it weakened. “March.”
The females formed up in line and marched in step to the area where Slith had, with admirable foresight, ordered the engineers to dig latrine pits for the females and throw up a screening wall around them. Their guards accompanied the females every step of the way and so did the hundreds of watching eyes. The males didn’t hoot or shout or make any sort of disturbance. They simply stared.
“I don’t like this, Thes,” said Fonrar sharply, on their way back to the shed. She glowered at the staring draconians. “It’s … insulting.”
“Is it?” Thesik had been traipsing along idly beside her friend,
a dream-laden gaze fixed on the distant mountains. Now Thesik came out of her dream and glanced around. Fonrar had the annoyed feeling that her friend had only just now noticed something was out of the ordinary. “I don’t have that feeling, Fon,” Thesik said seriously. “I see it as a tribute.”
“I’m starting to think it’s fun!” Shanra whispered with a smothered giggle.
“Me, too,” said Hanra. “Don’t they look silly!”
“They do, indeed,” Fonrar said coldly. Quickening her pace, she caught up with Cresel, who was marching ahead of them. Fonrar knew she was wasting her time, but she had to ask.
“Cresel,” she said, “we can’t stay cooped up in that shed all day. We’ll go out of our minds with boredom. Let us work. We can help set up the camp. Please.”
Cresel was already shaking his head.
“We can’t do any of the skilled labor, of course,” Fonrar continued, pleading, “but we’re strong, especially the sivaks, and we can all dig trenches. And the baaz are wonderful organizers. They like nothing better than to stack and sort, catalog and count. They could have the supply wagons emptied out and everything stowed away in proper order before the commander wakes for breakfast. Please, Cresel, let us do something to make ourselves useful!”
“You know I can’t, Fon,” Cresel said and he sounded truly sorry. “Look at those numbskulls!” He gestured to the gawking draconians. “If you were on work detail, this lot would be hanging around staring and getting in the way and who knows what might happen? I’m sorry, Fon. But it’s only for today. The men are working on your quarters first thing. Commander’s orders. Just be patient, will you?”
“I guess we don’t have much choice,” Fonrar snapped.