4
The outer doors of the hangar opened slowly, their electric motors whining in protest at the unaccustomed work. Standing on the other side was the Dragon, its golden scales glinting gloriously in the morning light. When the doors had completely retracted, the beast furled his great, membranous wings against his body; they were too wide to permit him to pass through even this opening intended for aircraft. Dipping his neck, the Dragon lowered his wedge-shaped head enough for the great paired horns to clear the lintel.
Katherine Hart was as impressed as ever at the size of the beast. Western Dragons were the most massive of the dracoforms, lending them a greater air of power than their more slender cousins. She performed a formal bow of greeting as the great beast advanced into the shade of the hangar. The Dragon’s massively muscled body moved sinuously past her without acknowledgment. He paced down the ramp into an unlit tunnel.
He was obviously in a bad mood.
The only good thing was that the Dragon’s annoyance was not directed at her, she had been on time, as directed, As the closing outer doors left them enveloped in a soft darkness, she turned to follow him. Untouched by sun or artificial light, the tunnel corridor they entered was darker still. Within that blackness, a soft hissing accompanied the clanging of steam pipes. The temperature and humidity rose, and the tang of rust overlaid the antiseptic smell of the corridor as the antiquated climate control system struggled to do its job.
Good, Hart thought. Maybe this will improve the old lizard’s mood. It did little for hers. She hated the clammy air that Dragons seemed to prefer, but she was willing to put up with it and its effects on her wardrobe if it made the beast at her side less irritable.
With the first step onto the flooring, she knew her hopes for an improved mood were slim. The Dragon would be annoyed by the cold, smooth tiles, disliking the uncomfortable hardness and poor traction. Why couldn’t the suit in charge of the physical facilities have prepared better for the Dragon’s visit? His claws were rasping gouges into the carefully polished surface. Perhaps the person responsible would take a hint from the Dragons’ destruction of the flooring and replace it with something more to the beast’s liking. At the very least, they could have sanded the corridor.
The beast’s tail swept back and forth in an unconscious rhythm that broadcast its pique. The spines on his tail could eviscerate someone in moments. Though her position just aft of the creature’s hindquarters allowed Hart to demonstrate proper deference, it placed her too close to those barbs. She hoped the big lizard wouldn’t get so ticked off that he forgot she was there.
As they paced toward the faint light ahead, Hart nearly tripped in one of the half-meter furrows, but fear of the lashing tail kept her on her feet. The Dragon would no doubt be aggrieved if he accidentally killed her. After all, the services for which she had been paid had yet to be performed. Sincere or not, however, the Dragon’s grief wouldn’t make her any less dead.
Flashes of light probed toward them from the depths of the corridor, the cyan tones glinting a green highlight on her companion’s golden scales. He belched slightly in annoyance, halting the flames before more than a wisp of smoke escaped his jaws. Hart breathed her relief aloud; if the beast unleashed a blast of fire, it would set off the building’s sprinkler system. A bath from the sprinklers would really raise his anger. Hers, too. Her hair was going to need repair as it was.
Though annoyed, the Dragon showed no concern over the nature of the light. She assumed, therefore, that it was no more than a side effect of the activities at the end of the corridor or some kind of scanning beam. Either way, the Dragon appeared to deem it harmless. Or at least harmless to him, she corrected herself. No matter that he wanted her services, she could not be sure that he would warn her of any risk that affected only her. It would be just like a Dragon to haul her into danger as a test of her skills.
Nothing threatened them as they traveled the corridor to a pair of retracted containment doors. Beyond the arch, the passage was blocked by a wall of glowing green light, a magical barrier of great strength. Hart shook her head at the foolishness of the proprietors. Were they going out of their way to annoy the Dragon? They should have opened the circle as he approached, instead of making him wait. This Dragon disliked being kept waiting by those he considered inferior.
The pair stood for a long minute before the pale green glow ebbed away, crawling back from the center of the corridor like acid eating away at paper. Within the boundaries protected by the circle was an inner set of doors. These sighed open even before the magical barrier had widened enough to admit the Dragon’s bulk, A Human awaited them, bowing and mumbling apology and welcome.
The man worn a pale green lab coat embroidered in stylized designs. A heavy silver disk swung from a chain around his neck as he held himself bent at the waist, Hart recognized the markings as cabalistic symbols, real ones rather than the crude protective runes worn by the superstitious. The symbols were much like those she used, but with subtle variations whose study could give her a clue to the magical orientation of this person. It was obvious from the arrangement and profusion of the markings that the wearer was a mage and member of an hermetic order. She didn’t recognize the particular group, but she knew enough about Human magical orders to tell that this mage was a minor member of his organization.
“Greetings, Lord Dragon,” the Human said in a louder voice. “We are honored by your presence today.”
The Dragon disdained to reply.
Hart caught a flare of emotion from the beast, confirming that he was as testy as she had feared. She remained outside the archway as the Dragon continued on, sliding his great golden bulk past the man. When the Dragon’s tail flicked toward her leg, she sidestepped quickly, the sharp spines missing her knee by centimeters. The mage, holding his bow, was oblivious to the danger. Foolish, norm. Always keep your eyes on a Dragon.
The tip of the beast’s tail had barely cleared the door when Hart saw the ripple begin in the powerful tail muscles. Ivory spines arced up as the Dragon’s tail swept toward the mage. The man grunted in surprise and pain as the barbs tore across his left thigh and into his belly. The impetus of the blow lifted him from his feet and slammed him aside, into the wall. He slipped to the floor, moaning.
“Perhaps you will not be so slow the next time.”
There was no Sound to the Dragon’s words, but Hart knew the mage heard it as well as she did. Dragon speech was a trick of mind and magic, something much more than a voice, something less than telepathy. The creatures still needed to know a language before “speaking” it. Their “words” had a consistently flat intonation, but carried emotional overtones in a way that Human speech could not. The emotional content that they broadcast needed no language. The Dragon’s annoyance and irritation would have communicated even to someone who spoke no English.