“Come on, Gleep, get serious. I’m in real trouble. If I try to stand in for the King, I might make a terrible mistake . . . like starting a war or hanging an innocent man. On the other hand, if I double-cross the King and disappear, you and I would spend the rest of our lives as hunted fugitives.”
The unicorn in the next stall snorted and stamped a foot angrily.
“Sorry, Buttercup. The three of us would be hunted fugitives.”
War unicorns aren’t all that common, even in Royal Stables. That particular war unicorn was mine. I acquired him as a gift shortly after I acquired Gleep. As I said before, this life-style is more than a little zooish.
“In a kingdom with a bad king, a lot of people would get hurt.” I reasoned, “and I’d be a terrible king. Heck, I’m not all that good a magician.”
“Gleep,” my pet argued sternly.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but it’s true. I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I’m not wild about being a hunted fugitive, either.”
Tired of verbalizing his affection, Gleep decided to demonstrate his feelings by licking my face. Now, aside from leaving a slimy residue, my dragon’s kisses have one other side effect. His breath is a blast of stench exceeded only by the smell of Pervish cooking.
“G . . . Gleep, old boy,” I managed at last, “I love you dearly, but if you do that twice a week, we may part company … permanently!”
“Gleep?”
That earned me a hurt expression, which I erased simply enough by scratching his head. It occurred to me that dragons had survived because each of them only became emotionally attached to one being in its lifetime. If their breath reached the entire population instead of a single individual, they would have been hunted into extinction long ago. No, it was better that only one person should suffer than …