To Marry a Dragon

11. The Riddle Master

Ferrante found a cushion that fit his human-sized buttocks and crossed his legs into a pretzel. "Do you think they will let me chop down a tree and bring in a few log chunks?" he asked Lukrezia.

"I don't think it will be necessary," she said from her position at the door. "Major Sonorous is on his way, and he doesn't look happy. I bet he was ordered to fast-track the processing. Finish your tea, Ferrante, they want us in Rotdaam!"

Ferrante peered at the dainty stoneware thimble cupped in the palm of his hand. "This wouldn't take long." He upended the vessel, and it felt like his lips soaked the drink by just touching the rim.

Fortunately, the gnomes didn't believe in starving their supplicants or, maybe, they estimated his appetite based on the dragon's bulk, something his growling stomach was happy about. Thoughtful hands piled the trestle table by the fireplace high with bread, cheese and sausage. The foodstuffs were admirably fresh, and the tea smelled of blueberries so all and all, he had no cause to grumble about the hospitality.

The door swung open after a perfunctory knock, with Lukrezia barely having time to shuffle away from it and strike a nonchalant pose.

Tybalt, who stepped in, didn't as much as glance in Lukrezia's direction, so her preening earlier on went to waste.

"After passing the proficiency test, you can proceed to Rotdaam. The University will host and house the dragon for the duration of his stay, in exchange to him submitting to the examination by the Medical College," Tybalt informed Ferrante.

Ferrante imagined herself being poked and probed by a horde of gnomes in surgical aprons, stained with blood, hidden behind the vulture masks of their grim profession. But Lukrezia nodded, so he nodded as well. It wasn't like he was offered a choice, and with every passing hour Elvira drew closer to discovering Sigvart's crown jewels.

He strapped on his sword. "I am ready to take the test."

Tybalt caught a piece of sausage on the tip of his officer's dagger and chewed it methodically. "Do you want to know what the test is, Dragon?"

"I'll see when we get there, but I need Lukrezia to come along as my guide. For any specific gnomish requirements. Ah, in case the problems are postulated differently in the human universities. The one where I studied." If he was lucky, they would be able to cheat their way through it somehow. If not... well, he'd worry about it then. He hated wasting another heartbeat.

"Splendid." For a man with such a warm skin color, Tybalt knew how to assume a glacial exterior. "Accompany me. The challenge arena is set for you."

Lukrezia sucked on her teeth, but Ferrante winked at her. Now, that was better! A challenge arena sounded like something he could handle. Whatever champion the gnomes chose to send against him, an automation or a swashbuckler, he could take it. With the spring in his step, he followed Tybalt out of the doors. Lukrezia fluffed up the feather and had to skip to catch up.

Tybalt led them down a winding pathway disappearing between the hills, away from the hub of activity where the camouflaged gnomes run from building to building and from hill to hill with maps, weapons or cargo.

The countryside looked beautiful in the morning light, with ground squirrels standing watch and hawks circling in search of the slow ones. The llamas and sheep grazed side by side. The idyll was interrupted by Tybalt's grating voice.

"Incidentally, Lukrezia, as we are old friends, I feel obliged to tell you that the Guildmasters sounded peeved over your gallivanting across the vales and dales on company time."

The egret's feather bristled above Lukrezia's creased brow. "I would not exactly call riding a dragon for the first time in recorded history 'gallivanting'."