A Questionable Quest

Chapter 28... in which Dero eats a maid... almost

By the time I rolled over the next morning, I was rested enough to remember everything that happened the night before with a glowing sort of fire in my stomach.

I was also rested enough to remember -- with an entirely different sort of burning sensation -- that my parents had left Portsburring without me.

Without. Me.

Were they that unworried about me? How could they have possibly known I would be okay? Or did they just... not care?

There was a sobering thought.

All my groggy wonderings flew out the window, though, when I heard the maid's scream. I shot to my feet. My hand flew to my belt, where I usually kept my dagger. It wasn't there.

I frantically scanned the room. What-

"Dero!" The dragon stood at the door to the room, scales on end, forked tongue hissing ferociously. The maid's jaw unhinged in another shriek.

"Dero, calm!" I scrambled to scoop up the dragon. Once in my arms, Dero's scales flattened. He still glared, narrow-eyed, at the maid. "She's a friend. Dero, friend."

I doubted he understood me completely. Still, the baby dragon eventually calmed, and tucked his head under my neck.

I looked at the maid. "I'm sorry. He can be skittish with strangers."

The handmaiden took a few deep breaths, gave a shaky, wide-eyed nod... then fled the room.

I stared at the closed door. Then at Dero. Then back at the door. "You," I told him, "need to learn to be around people. Lots of people."

Dero gave a noncommittal squeak, and squirmed from my arms. He trotted curiously around the room, sniffing here and there, flicking his tongue against the bed frame, and the fire grate.

I watched him for some time. My thoughts wandered. I found myself replaying our night at the festival, wondering if I could convince our cook to serve cider at meals, planning where to keep Dero once he was too big for my bedchambers -- in other words, I thought about everything except for my parents.

It was only when the baby dragon made his way to my foot, and snapped at the laces on my boots, before I snapped back to reality. And took a big sniff of something really, really odorous.

Was that me? I sniffed again.

Blergh.

I smelled so bad that I was certain if the maid hadn't fled at the sight of Dero, she would have done so after coming within a five-foot radius of my stink. So, I cast a careful look around the room -- all the windows were closed, and Dero was preoccupied with whatever hid under the vanity -- then slipped into the adjacent powder room.

I emerged, about twenty minutes later, my dark hair dripping, and my dirty clothes discarded into the empty bin beside the tub. My armour was neatly packed away into one of the vanity drawers -- that, at least, didn't stink -- and one look in the mirror showed skin that was cleaner than it had been in weeks.

I'd just flopped on the bed, marvelling at how wonderful it felt to be clean -- and how I'd never truly appreciated the existence of bathtubs -- when the soft knock came to my door.

"Come in!"

Dero slithered to my feet, hissing, but I murmured "friend" until he calmed down. Then I looked up.

The newcomer was older, male, and had greying hair cut in the same stern style as Avvenor's. (I shuddered slightly at the comparison.) Still, he looked familiar, somehow, though I couldn't imagine where I might have seen him before. In the courtyard, maybe? The night before?