Paithan could almost see the scaly body writhing up from the depths of the blue lake. His chest constricted, his lungs burned. “No! Old man! Father,” he shouted, switching to human, which he spoke fluently, using the standard form of human address to any elderly male. “Father! Come away from there! Father!”
“Eh?” The old man turned, peering at Paithan with vague eyes. “Sonny? Is that you, boy?” He dropped the staff and flung wide his arms, the motion sending him staggering. “Come to my breast, Sonny! Come to your papa!”
Paithan tried to halt his own forward momentum in time to catch hold of the old man, toddling precariously on the shore. But the elf slipped in the wet grass, slid to his knees, and the old man, arms swinging wildly, toppled backward into the lake, landing with a splash.
Slavering jaws, lunging out of the water, snapping them both in two . . . Paithan plunged in after the old man, caught hold of him by something-perhaps his beard, perhaps a mouse-colored sleeve-and dragged him, sputtering and blowing, to the shore. “Damn fine way for a son to treat his aged parent!” The old man glared at Paithan. “Knocking me into the lake!”
“I’m not your son. Fa- I mean, sir. And it was an accident.” Paithan tugged the old man along, pulling him up the hillside. “Now, we really should get away from here! There’s a dragon-”
The old man came to a dead stop. Paithan, caught off balance, almost fell over. He jerked on the thin arm, to get the old man moving again, but it was like trying to budge a wortle tree.
“Not without my hat,” said the old man.
“To Orn with your hat!” Paithan ground his teeth. He looked fearfully back into the lake, expecting at any moment to see the water start to boil. “You doddering idiot! There’s a drag-” He turned back to the old man, stared, then said in exasperation, “Your hat’s on your head!”
“Don’t lie to me, Sonny,” said the old man peevishly. He leaned down and picked up his staff, and the hat slipped over his eyes. “Struck blind, by god!” he said in awed tones, stretching out groping hands.
“It’s your hat!” Paithan leaped forward, grabbed the old man’s hat and yanked it off his head. “Hat! Hat!” he cried, waving it in front of the old man’s face.
“That’s not mine,” said the old man, staring at it suspiciously. “You’ve switched hats on me. Mine was in much better condition-”
“Come on!” cried Paithan, righting back a crazed desire to laugh.
“My staff!” shrieked the old man, planting his feet firmly, refusing to move.
Paithan toyed with the idea of leaving the old man to lake root in the moss if he wanted, but the elf couldn’t watch a dragon devour anyone-even a human. Running back, Paithan retrieved the staff, stuck it in the old man’s hand, and began to pull him toward the house.
The elf feared the old human might have difficulty making it back, for the way was long and uphill. Paithan heard the breath begin to whistle in his own lungs and his legs ached with the strain. But the old man appeared to have incredible stamina; he tottered along gamely, his staff thumping holes in the moss.
“I say, I think something’s following us!” cried the old man, suddenly.
“There is?” Paithan whirled around.
“Where?” The old man swung his staff, narrowly missing knocking down Paithan. “I’ll get him, by the gods-”
“Stop! It’s all right!” The elf caught hold of the wildly swinging staff. “There’s nothing there. I thought you said . . . something was following us.”
“Well, if there isn’t why in the name of all that’s holy are you making me run up this confounded hill?”
“Because there’s a dragon in the la-”
“The lake!” The old man’s beard bristled, his bushy eyebrows stuck out in all directions. “So that’s where he is! He dunked me in there deliberately!” The old man raised a clenched hand, shook his fist at the air in the direction of the water. “I’ll fix you, you overgrown mud worm! Come out! Come out where I can get a look at you!” Dropping his staff, the old man began rolling up the sleeves of his sodden robes. “I’m ready. Yes, sirree-bob, I’m gonna cast a spell this time that’ll knock out your eyeballs!”