Eventually, they did, winding down their chattering and boardcomp games and collapsing one by one onto the heavy mats that had been set up for them in Her Thumbleness's bedroom suite. But by the time the girl dismissed Jack with a lazy wave of her hand, the sky to the east was starting to glow red. The rest of the slave staff was already hard at work downstairs, cooking breakfast and preparing the house for their masters' day.

And it wasn't just the slaves who were on the move, either. Some of the Brummgas and their staff were stirring, as well. Even as Jack headed along the side of the large entryway toward the stairs to the slave quarters, he caught a glimpse of Gazen going into an office on the far side of the chamber.

Luckily, Gazen didn't see him. But any hopes Jack might still have had of trying to get to the computers ended right there. Wandering slaves he might be willing to risk. A wandering Gazen he wasn't.

"Well, that was fun," he commented tiredly as he closed the door of his tiny room and dropped onto the bed. "Wasn't that fun, everybody?"

"What exactly are you doing, lad?" Uncle Virge demanded. "Some kind of marathon magic show?"

"Pretty close," Jack admitted, wincing as he bent his left leg up to get to his shoe. After all those hours on his feet, his knees were as stiff as a customs official's glare.

With a burst of gold scales, Draycos leaped out of his collar and landed on the narrow strip of floor beside the bed. "May I help?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he began unfastening Jack's shoes.

"Thanks," Jack said, letting his leg go flat again.

"It is the least I can do," Draycos said, getting the first shoe off and setting it down on the floor. "I have been of little aid to you so far."

"You certainly have," Jack assured him. "If you hadn't gotten the comm clip out when you did—" He shook his head.

"What do you mean?" Uncle Virge asked suspiciously. "What's been happening?"

"The Brummgas treat their slaves like low-grade costume jewelry," Jack told him.

"If the slaves don't understand what they're saying, they treat them like punching bags."

Uncle Virge muttered something nasty under his breath. "Are you all right, lad?" "I'm fine," Jack assured him, wiggling his toes as Draycos got the other shoe off. "It was really only the one Brummga at the dinner, and he was too drunk to really hit straight. Mostly, I've just been run off my feet."

"And there has been no opportunity yet to locate the computers," Draycos added.

"But I am in the house," Jack pointed out. "That's definitely progress." He yawned widely. "I'd better get some sleep while I can, though. Her Thumbleness will probably want me to brush her teeth for her when she wakes up."

Uncle Virge sighed softly. "All right, lad," he said. "Pleasant dreams."

Jack clicked off the comm clip and turned his head to look at Draycos. The dragon was pacing the floor, his back arched and uncomfortable looking. "You coming aboard?" he asked.

"I think I will remain out for a while," Draycos said.

Jack frowned. Offhand, he couldn't remember ever seeing the dragon quite this twitchy. "What's wrong?"

Draycos paused in his pacing. His long neck twisted toward Jack, then turned away. "I am all right," he muttered.

"Sure you are," Jack said, studying him. "Come on, what's the problem? Her Thumbleness getting to you or something?"

Reluctantly, he thought, Draycos came to a halt. "It is not her," he said.

"It is this place. It is all of this place." His tongue slashed out in emphasis.

"I am sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Jack asked. "I don't like it much, either."

The dragon twisted his neck oddly. "It is not a matter of liking or disliking," he said, his voice suddenly very quiet. "For a K'da, this is an echo of a time long past. A terrible time."

Jack sat up on the bed, his fatigue suddenly forgotten. Something in the dragon's tone had sent a shiver straight through him. "Sounds serious," he said in his most soothing, tell-me-all-about-it voice.

And was instantly ashamed of himself. Uncle Virgil had taught him that tone for wheedling information out of people they were trying to scam. He shouldn't be using it on a friend. Especially not on a friend who could carve his initials in steel plate. "I mean... you want to talk about it?"

For a long moment the dragon was silent. "We were not always with the Shontine," he said at last. "In the beginning we were on another world, with another host race."

"Who?" Jack asked. "I mean, what were their names?"

"We remember them as the Dhghem," Draycos said. "They were strong and cheerful, full of laughter and wisdom. We were both their symbionts and their friends."

"Sounds perfect," Jack said. It sounded too perfect, actually, but that was to be expected. Whatever nuggets of real history there might be in this story, they were almost certainly soaked in myth, sprinkled with legend, and served up with a side order of wishful thinking.

Still, he was hardly in a position to point fingers. Uncle Virgil had never talked about Jack's own parents, and he had only vague memories of them himself.

But that hadn't stopped him from spending hours wondering what they'd been like, or fantasizing about how his life would have been different if they hadn't died when he was three.

And in every one of those daydreams, his parents had come out taller and kinder and more handsome and more important than any human beings could actually be.

Draycos and his half-mythical hosts were probably no different. "So what went wrong?"

Draycos started pacing again. "Our world was attacked by slavers," he said, his voice so low that Jack could hardly hear him. "They came from the stars, with fire and death and supreme arrogance. The Cark, they called themselves. They came seeking lives to steal. They saw us, and decided they wanted us."

"You fought back, of course," Jack murmured.

"With all the power and skill we possessed," Draycos said. "But in the end it was all for nothing. The slavers had strength beyond ours, and weapons far beyond those of the Dhghem. They captured many of us and our hosts and then returned to the sky."

The dragon paused again, his neck arched, his glowing green eyes staring off into the distance. "There are songs about our time of captivity," he said.

"One day, perhaps, I will sing one of them for you. For many years, many generations, we served the Cark as slaves. The K'da worked or fought for them, or guarded their slave auctions. Their Dhghem hosts also did some work, but mostly they were held hostage for our good behavior."

"Didn't they try to fight back?" Jack asked.

"Of course," Draycos said. "There are also many songs about those attempts.

But in the end all of them failed. The Cark were too strong, and too cunning.

Eventually, most of the Dhghem gave up and resigned themselves to their fate."

"Let me guess," Jack said. "The Cark decided they'd beaten you and started getting sloppy."

"You are very perceptive," Draycos said. "But even with relaxed attention, the Cark still watched them closely enough that a rebellion would never have succeeded."

He paused, staring through the wall again. "Well?" Jack prompted.

"Something happened that had never happened before," Draycos said. "Something no one had ever thought could happen. Completely by accident, we discovered that a

newly collected group of Cark slaves could serve as hosts."

"The Shontine?"

"Exactly," Draycos said. "They were thought to be poor soldiers, so the Cark used them as menial slaves."

He flicked his tongue around again. "Much as you and I have now become for the Brummgas."

"I get it," Jack said, nodding. "Because they were just simple slaves, they gave you the advantage you needed."