The assembled hunters let out a collective " 'Oooooh." I raised an eyebrow. I was impressed. That was definitely a goodie worth having.

The king raised a finger. "However, if she manages to elude all of you, the prize will go to my daughter. A consolation award goes to the hunter who has garnered the most points. These are our five judges, and their decision is final."

The king gestured behind him with an arm toward the others on the stand. Massha was among the five. We'd agreed that the best way for her to keep an eye on things was a bird's-eye view, floating above with the help of her flying ring. As an official judge she could call for help from the others or from the army of forest rangers who'd be accompanying the hunt.

I looked around me at the other riders, trying to spot which one might have been the shadowy figure in the woods. Massha and I had scanned the area looking for footprints or any other identifying spoor and come up empty. Like me, the hunters were already in the saddle-ridge, so it was hard to guess which could be the right height. In riding hats, helmets, little red riding hoods, and crowns, none of the heads matched the silhouette I had half-seen. I couldn't exactly go up to the Samiram of Porzimm and tell him to take off his turban. This snake-skinned nobleman had an entourage bigger than Elvis's. Next to him, on a dancing charger the size of a rhinoceros, was a good-looking Whelf seven feet tall named Prince Bosheer. The magnificent pointed ears sticking out of his mop of wavy black hair weren't as handsome as my own, since they were tan like the rest of his skin. Something about Bosheer made me look at him twice, but I couldn't put my finger on what made me uneasy. I was definitely concerned about The Niraba, a dark-furred female with a whip-thin body whose personal attributes far outweighed the rest of her. She looked us all up and down with a speculatively sensual expression on her face. Reminded me of a former girlfriend of mine. I always made sure I was heavily armed when we went anywhere, because fights tended to break out about whom she was going home with. I recognized a Deveel called Alf—short, I now learned, for Alfibiades (you can't sue your parents for that kind of abuse; it's a way they get even with you in advance for the time you wreck the family chariot). He looked uneasy on his 'hippus, a beast even smaller than mine. His eyes absolutely glittered when he saw the treasure chest. Right there I knew I had my number-one suspect. Deveels were just exactly the type to tilt the playing field in their direction by scoping out the field in advance. I wished I could analyze some of the mud on his hooves.

Nunzio showed up at my side. He put a small studded wand into my hand. "It's a controller. Gleep has never needed one to behave, but it's a way for you to keep in touch with him over distance. If you push this button," he indicated a baby-blue stud, "hell stop. The red one will make him sit down, and the green one will make him run back to you wherever you are. That will help if you get lost."

"I don't get lost," I growled, mentally crossing my fingers that I wouldn't have to eat those words.

Nunzio nodded. He knew me. "Right The other thing you're gonna need is this." He gave me a red, football-shaped mass the size of my hand. "In case one of the dragons gets out of hand. Toss it into its mouth or into its flame. The smoke will paralyze it Good luck."

I tucked away my aces in the hole and clenched my reins. Mass assassination by dragon was by no means out of the question as a way to win this contest. If none of the hunters was out to cut the others' throats, we all ought to be perfectly safe, but better to consider the worst possible scenario in advance than later while they're trying to identify your remains to return to your family.

The Master of the Hunt blew a fanfare on his horn. "My lords and ladies, the hunt will now commence! Forth the quarry!"

Gloriannamarjolie grinned at the assembly, then leaped off the dais. Before our eyes, she seemed to vanish. I heard rustling in the undergrowth.

The Master of the Hunt held up a wrist sundial and waited until the shadow shifted slightly. He raised a finger, giving her a long count of a hundred, then brought it down. "Forth the hounds!"

The dragonmaster blew a sour blatt on a duck whistle. In unison, the sixty dragons raised their noses to the sky and howled, some of them belching gouts of flame into the air. The sight was enough to send half the non-hunters scurrying for the safety of the castle. I stood my ground.

I wasn't too worried about my own safety: I had the D-hopper, Nunzio's gadgets, and a few little tricks of my own, but I kept thinking about the princess's well-being. She had a tough job ahead, staying far enough ahead of an army of killer dragons to finish the course. "Forth the hunters!"

Hearing the cry, Fireball leaped forward. Cursing, I held on with both hands and both legs to keep from being bucked off as the rotund beast thundered after the pack of bigger 'hippuses.

In the sparse forest outside the courtyard the riders spread out behind the dragons. The firebreathers were sniffing the ground for the princess's scent. I'd never seen control like it Normally, adult dragons would be straining against the controllers, fighting to get loose to kill and loot. These behaved like a troop of experienced blood-hounds. Then I gave myself a mental slap on the fore-head: they were experienced bloodhounds. These dragons and their owners rode on hunts all year round. Only those in the hands of strangers like Alf who were here only for the prize had to hang on tight and keep their dragons on the job. Gleep, swift-footed and smaller than the others, kept dashing underneath the feet of the big ones, smelling a patch of ground here, nibbling a leaf there. I swear at one point he looked up and gave me a wink.

Naw. Couldn't be. Must have been dust in his eye.

I didn't have much of a chance to concentrate on the dragons. Just staying on my mount took all my attention. The trees that weren't hammered down by the stampede of dragons whipped at us with blade-sharp twigs. I spat out leaves and hunkered grimly over Fireball's neck. Not a hundred yards out of the courtyard I saw riders dropping out of sight and heard their yells—the first fence and ditch had claimed its victims. I calculated from my approach vector my 'hippus was going to have to gather himself and leap up six feet and forward twenty. As if he could read my thoughts, he danced sideways and cast an eye over the fence into the pit, where a dozen of his fellows and their riders were crawling out of the mud. "Come on, Fireball."

It peered back at me, and distinctly shook its head. That tore it for me. I grabbed a handful of its mane, shoved its face into the fence rail.

"Come on, you mangy barrel of shark bait!" I shouted, giving it my full lung power. "Jump that fence or I'll throw you over!" My voice echoed in the forest, momentarily drowning out the dragons. Fireball's head swayed, as though its ears were ringing. With an expression of new-respect, it backed up slowly, then broke into a steadily increasing gallop. I braced myself, and we sailed over the rails and the ditch, landing a dozen feet clear. My spine jarred heavily. I saw a couple of my fellow hunters grin at me, as they stood up in their stirrups to absorb the impact with their knees. Jerks.

Fireball didn't miss a step, going straight from that balletic leap into a full canter.

The landscape cleared almost at once from thick forest to open scrubland. Miles ahead of me the dragons had already fanned out with their noses to the ground. In the midst of the red, green, gold, or black giants was a little blue form, scooting back and forth like a mouse under elephants' feet. An ouroboros, its tail still tucked in its mouth, lay on the ground twitching, probably trampled by one of its big cousins as it tried to roll among them. Pages from the palace ran out with a stretcher and a medical kit I felt a momentary qualm. If Gleep got squished Skeeve'd be upset. I'd better look out for the little guy.