Vulpine looked Thak over. Thak returned his gaze with an expression that suggested hunger, as if he were sizing up Vulpine as a snack. Turning back to Rorg, he said, "I admire a dragon of vision. Chapelion seeks a new sun-dragon to serve as king. Thak looks the part. If he wants the throne, we'll give it to him-with the understanding that he will respect the counsel of the High Biologian. Consider my offer carefully. You'll be the father of a new dragon dynasty."
"You seek to give us what we can take with our superior power?" Rorg asked.
"Have a care, Rorg," said Vulpine. "If you attempt to take the throne by force, the aerial guard will crush you."
"Thak," said Rorg in a low voice, "kill this fool."
Thak's jaws opened and his head shot toward Vulpine like a viper striking. Vulpine sighed as he flapped his wings and flew straight up. Thak's teeth snapped onto empty air inches beneath him. Vulpine kicked down. The young sun-dragon's jaws smacked into the stone floor, sliding in the gritty muck-film coating it.
The kick propelled Vulpine upward. The ceiling here was at least a hundred feet high, studded with countless stalactites that hung down like stone icicles. He swung his hind-talons up and grabbed one that looked especially sturdy, his claws biting into it so that he wound up in a perpendicular crouch. The other sun-dragons stared up at him, but none looked like they were going to interfere. Rorg had given his order specifically to Thak. Both Thak and Rorg would lose face if they called on the others to help.
Looking up, Vulpine's snout was only inches away from a second stalagmite. As Thak rose to up on all-fours, shaking the muck from his snout, Vulpine reached out with his fore-talon, flicking his claw against the tip of the stone. It chimed like a bell, though the note was much softer than the ones the slaves had sounded, and this particular rock was out of tune. It pealed with something that was almost, but not quite, an e-flat. He winced at the off-key note.
Thak rose up to his hind-talons and roared up at the ceiling. It was an impressive noise, one that set the whole chamber ringing. The cavern as a whole was tuned to an almost perfect c. He had to admire Rorg's inventiveness in creating such a wonderful instrument. It made it all the more puzzling that Thak was so blind to the obvious advantages of other inventions. What did it matter if a sword was the invention of angel, man, or dragon? It was, Vulpine felt, time to demonstrate why tool-users would retain control of the earth.
Below him, Thak leapt, his mighty wings beating a powerful downbeat that sent embers from the fire pit dancing around the room. He raced toward Vulpine, his jaws open once more, as Vulpine pulled his whip from his belt. He flicked the weapon in his fore-talon, aiming the leather through the forest of stalactites to a slender one ten feet distant that caught his eye. The leather wrapped around the tip of the stone. Vulpine gave a sharp tug. With a crack the stone snapped free about five feet up the shaft. He flicked his wrist again to free his whip as the stone spear began to plummet, right into the path of Thak's approach. The stone tore through Thak's outstretched left wing near his armpit.
Thak's jaws clamped shut and he sucked in air through flared nostrils. His injured wing spasmed uncontrollably. His good wing vainly tried to keep him airborne, but it was of no use. He landed on his back in the middle of the fire pit, extinguishing most of the flames. He howled as he rolled from the pit, sending sparks and smoke in all directions. A new stink fouled the atmosphere, the stench of burning feather-scales.
Rorg dropped from his perch amid a cacophony of shouts. Shadows danced around the chamber as humans ran for safety, carrying torches. The air was thick with black smoke.
When the chaos cleared, Thak was flat on his back, his wings stretched to the side, his head pressed firmly against the stone floor. Standing on his throat, right at the junction of Thak's jaw and neck, was Vulpine. He'd drawn his sword and buried it in the underside of Thak's jaw, where he held it with both fore-talons as blood gushed from the intersection of flesh and steel with each heartbeat. Vulpine stared at Rorg calmly.
"This blade is three feet long," he said, his voice dispassionate, as if he were merely explaining the attributes of the object. "You will notice that two feet of the weapon is still exposed. The tip of the sword is presently resting on the base of Thak's skull. The bone there is relatively thin. With only modest pressure, I can drive this into Thak's brain."
"You won't leave here alive," growled Rorg. Vulpine heard the fear beneath the great beast's anger.
"Regardless of the outcome of our encounter, I'd encourage you to reflect on the validity of your philosophy. I've bested the mightiest warrior among you with little more than braided leather and a pointy rock. Do you honestly think you stand a change going up against the aerial guard at the palace, with all their weapons and war-machines?"
"No one can stand against our teeth and claws!" Rorg bellowed, then grew still as his eyes fixed on the juncture of the sword and Thak's throat. Thak was breathing in shallow, rapid breaths. Beneath Vulpine's hind-talons, the blood in the sun-dragon's jugular vein raced in strong, panicked pulses.
"I will repeat my request for a single slave," said Vulpine. "And some blankets."
"One slave is hardly worth this rudeness on your part. I don't understand why you chose to provoke this fight. We purchased new slaves a few days ago to replace those lost to yellow-mouth. You can have your pick of the lot. There are fresh corpses piled above, with the blankets they died beneath still wrapped about them. Take as many as you wish."
"Thank you, Rorg," Vulpine said, pulling his sword free and stepping down from Thak's throat. "This is most generous of you."
Vulpine started to sheath his sword, then looked up at Rorg once more. "So we're clear, none of your relatives are going anywhere near Chapelion now."
"What use have we for a palace?" grumbled Rorg. "A cave surrounded by bones is the natural abode of the dragon."
Vulpine nodded with a new appreciation of Rorg's old fashioned wisdom. "So where are these new slaves?"
"Most are already out in the villages," said Rorg. "We'll use them in the fields come spring. But over in the corner is one of the new arrivals. He's small, so we put him to work mucking out the tighter crevices."
Rorg pointed toward a blond youth cowering in a narrow alcove. If Rorg hadn't used the pronoun "he," Vulpine wouldn't have instantly recognized the human as male. His hair was shoulder length and his limbs were slender. Still, he looked old enough to be useful, perhaps twelve or thirteen. It was an age at which one might plausibly run off to join a rebellion. "He'll do. What's his name?"
"They have names?" Rorg asked.
Vulpine walked over to the trembling youth. "What are you called?" The boy looked away, as if praying that Vulpine was talking to someone else.
"I asked you a question," said Vulpine, uncoiling his whip. He allowed the tip to rest on the cavern floor at a spot where the boy couldn't help but see it.
"J-j-j-juh… Jeremiah," the child whispered.
"Are you cold boy? This dank cave air too much for those rags you're wearing?" Jeremiah looked up and nodded. "Let's get you back into some fresh air. We'll get you a blanket you can wrap up in. Maybe two. Would you like that?"
The boy looked confused by this offer. He didn't shake his head yes or no. The wheels of his mind were locked with fear. Vulpine grew impatient. "Follow me, or I'll thrash the skin off you," he snapped and turned away, walking through the phalanx of sun-dragons who glared at him with a mixture of hate and awe. He didn't look back. Behind him, he heard the patter of the boy's feet as he scrambled to keep up, slipping on the slimy stone.