“Helllooo,” the dragon’s honey-and-iron voice rang in Wiz’s skull. “Do come in.” The last part was said pleasantly, but there was no doubt it was a command.
Wiz stepped through the gate as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He found himself standing between two enormous clawed forepaws and staring at an expanse of armored chest.
The dragon stretched his neck out until his head was nearly twenty feet above the ground. Then he cocked his head to one side and regarded Wiz unblinkingly. Wiz resisted an impulse to wave inanely to the beast and a much stronger impulse to turn and run. So he just stood there, hands at his side and with what he knew must be a monumentally silly smile plastered on his face.
“My, you are a bit odd, aren’t you?” the dragon said at last.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Normally the only humans who approach us are warriors who come blustering and bashing, or magicians who come hurling all sorts of dreadfully tacky spells. But you’re not doing either. I wonder what you could be?”
“I’m a negotiator. I’m here to arrange for the release of the hostages.”
“Hostages? Oh, you mean those.” The dragon jerked its head toward a corner of the farmyard and Wiz saw several people huddled together. One young man scrambled to his feet as if to dash for safety through the open gate, but without turning his head the dragon lifted his tail and brandished it threateningly. The youth turned white and sank to his knees.
“Actually they’re not hostages. More in the nature of provisions.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Wiz said.
“You’re not frightened, are you?”
“No,” Wiz lied.
“Oh, I do hope you’re not,” the dragon said. “These-“ he twitched his tail at the cowering knot of people “-are frightened positively speechless and I was so hoping for some amusing conversation before dinner.”
“Uh, I don’t suppose I could convince you to make a meal of beef?”
The dragon licked his chops and his fangs glinted evilly in the morning sun. “Oh, certainly. As a second course.”
Then he was all mock civility again. “But I am being churlish. Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Griswold.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Wiz lied once more. “I’m Wiz Zumwalt.”
“Ah, yes,” Griswold said, regarding him closely. “And a wizard too, I see.
My, my. How opportune of you to come to call.”
Wiz was feeling that it was less opportune by the moment, but he didn’t say that.
“Yes, ah, now about releasing these people . . .”
“Oh, quite out of the question, I can assure you. But surely you knew that before you arrived?” The dragon heaved a great gusty sigh. “You humans, always thinking that wishing for something can make it happen. You are amusing, but you are so dreadfully illogical.”
“And dragons are logical?”
“Of course.”
For a mad instant Wiz tried to imagine what the NAND diagram for a logical dragon would look like.
And then he saw his opening.
He hesitated. The last time he had tried this with one of this World’s creatures he had nearly lost his soul. But he didn’t have much choice. He sure couldn’t fight the monster, he didn’t think he could out-magic it on the spur of the moment and he didn’t have any other ideas.
The people of this world didn’t think in the abstract. Abstractions and mathematical thought tended to puzzle and confuse them. Wiz devoutly hoped the same was true of dragons.
He cleared his throat. “Then surely you are skilled in all forms of applied logic. Riddles, say?”
“Dragons are excellent at riddles,” Griswold said loftily. “Surely you’re not proposing playing the riddle game with me?”
“Yep. And if I win you turn these people loose and agree never to bother them again.”
“And if I win?” Griswold asked, leaning forward so Wiz had to crane his neck to meet the dragon’s eye.
“You get them.”
“My dear boy, surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that I have them already. No, you’ll have to offer something more.” The dragon licked his chops in anticipation. “Yourself, for instance.”