“We wish to speak with you a moment,” Questor advised. Abernathy managed an affirming nod, but found himself wondering at the same time why anyone in his right mind would wish to speak with something as awful as Strabo.
“I care nothing for what you wish,” the dragon said with a huff of steam from both nostrils. “I care only for what I wish. Go away.”
“This will only take a moment,” Questor persisted.
“I don’t have a moment. Go away before I eat you.”
Questor flushed. “I would remind you to whom you are speaking! There is some courtesy owed me, given our long association! Now, please be civil!”
As if to emphasize his demand, he took a meaningful step forward, a scarecrow figure in tattered sashes that looked like nothing so much as a bundle of loosely joined sticks silhouetted against the light. Bunion showed all his teeth in a frightening grin. Abernathy pushed his glasses further up on his nose and tried to calculate how quickly he could reach the safety of the darkened brush at the base of the ravine behind him.
Strabo blinked and lifted his head from the crater fire. “Questor Thews, is that you?”
Questor puffed out. “It most certainly is.”
Strabo sighed. “How boring. If you were someone of consequence, you might at least prove a brief source of entertainment. But you are not worth the effort it would take me to rise and devour you. Go away.”
Questor stiffened. Ignoring Abernathy’s paw on his shoulder, he came forward another step. “My friends and I have journeyed a long way to speak with you — and speak with you we will. If you choose to ignore the long and honorable association between wizards and dragons, that is your loss! But you’ll do us both a great disservice!”
“You seem rather ill-tempered tonight,” the dragon replied. His voice reverberated in a long hiss, and the serpentine body shifted lazily against the rocks and craters, tail splashing liquid fires from a pool. “I might point out that you wizards have done nothing for dragons in centuries, so I see little reason to dwell on any association that might once have existed. Such nonsense! I might also point out that while there is no question about my status as a dragon, there is certainly some question about yours as a wizard.”
“I will not be drawn into an argument!” Questor snapped, rather too irritably. “Nor will I depart until you have heard me out!”
Strabo spit at the sulfurous air. “I ought simply to eat you, Questor Thews — you and the dog and that other thing, whatever it is. A kobold, isn’t it? I ought to breath a bit of fire on you, cook you up nicely, and eat you. But I am in a charitable mood tonight. Leave me and I will forgive your unwelcome intrusion into my home.”
“Perhaps we should reconsider…” Abernathy began, but Questor shushed him at once.
“Did the dog say something?” the dragon asked softly.
“No — and no one is leaving!” Questor announced, planting his feet firmly.
Strabo blinked. “No?”
His crusted head swung abruptly about and flame jetted from his maw. The fire exploded directly beneath Questor Thews and sent him flying skyward with a yelp. Bunion and Abernathy sprang aside, scrambling to get clear of flying rocks, earth, and bits of flame. Questor came down again in a tangled heap of robes and sashes, his bones jarred with the impact.
Strabo chuckled, crooked tongue licking the air. “Very entertaining, wizard. Very amusing.”
Questor climbed to his feet, dusted himself off, spit out a mouthful of dirt, and faced the dragon once more. “That was entirely uncalled for!” he declared, struggling to regain his lost dignity. “I can play such games, too!”
His hands clapped sharply, pointed and spread. He tried to do something with his feet as well, but he lost his footing on the loose rock, slipped, and sat down with a grunt. Light exploded above the craters and a shower of dry leaves tumbled down over Strabo, bursting instantly into flames from the heat.
The dragon was in stitches. “Am I to be smothered in leaves?” he roared, shaking with mirth. “Please, wizard — spare me!”