He smiled and put the pizza slice down on the table. "Of course, my dear," he said as he stood. "Soon, soon."
"So?" I asked, dropping my hands to my hips.
His left eyebrow lifted. "So?"
"There's a fraggin' dragon here to see you!"
He licked the grease from his hand. "Well, yes, you just told me that." He'd made me promise to try to stop hitting him, but one of these days… "Do you want me to just leave him out there?"
"No, of course not!" he replied. "That would be quite rude. Ask him in."
"Um, don't you think he's a little big for the doorway?" I figured that was probably a stupid question. In the short time I'd been with him, I'd learned, if nothing else, that the obvious was rarely that, and the impossible the norm.
He gave me his best "I know lots of things you don't know" look. "Why don't we let him decide, eh?"
I shrugged. "Fine, why don't we. You're the one paying the repair bills." As I turned to leave, something occurred to me. I paused and looked back at him. He was reaching for the pizza slice.
"Uh, I don't know what dragons are into," I said, "but I figure you might want to put some clothes on before he comes in."
He looked at me, then at himself. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he said. "But how do you know it's a he?"
Someday I was going to hit him so hard he'd need a closed casket.
At the back of the house I hesitated, straightened my clothes, then walked briskly into the garden. It was still sitting right where it had landed, curiously watching the poi circling in a nearby shallow pool. Its sapphire and silver scales reflected the late afternoon sun, changing the garden into a Maxfield Parrish painting. The dragon seemed oblivious to my presence, intent instead on the movements of the goldfish. I didn't want to… actually, was afraid to… disturb it. I didn't want it to move again.
"Is he home?" it asked. I should have been ready for the voice. I knew how they spoke, but I still found it unsettling. I heard the words clearly, but it hadn't moved. No part of it had moved.
Startled in spite of myself, I took a step back up the flagstone steps. "I… yes. Yes, he is."
"I did not mean to frighten you, you know." Its great head swung slowly toward me. A glint of light shined from somewhere deep behind its eyes. It could have swallowed me whole, right then and there, and I'd never have noticed.
"No, I know you didn't…"
"May I go in? It is very tiring keeping my tail in the air like this, and this is such a wonderful garden that I would not like to spoil it."
I looked up at its tail suspended a number of stories above me. Barbs stuck out all around the end. Giant hooks like that could… wait a minute, it was gone.
"He is expecting me, then." A strange voice spoke.
My head snapped back toward earth. The dragon was gone. In its place stood a young man, about twenty years old, dressed in a suit cut from the most beautiful blue silk I had ever seen. He had pale skin, and his features were those of Michelangelo's David. His eyes sparkled a sharp silver and blue. I gave a stupid-sounding laugh.
He smiled. "Oh dear, I have startled you again. I am sorry."
I managed a small smile myself. "I didn't know dragons could do that," I said sheepishly. I'd taken a few more steps backward without realizing it.
He walked toward me, and placed one finger on his lips as he passed. "Please do not tell anyone. It is supposed to be a secret."
More secrets for me to keep, I thought. No problem. However you looked at it, this was sure as hell more interesting than Missouri.
He seemed intrigued by the house's modern decor. He questioned me about the creator of every piece of art we passed, but only paused once to lean in for a better look. That was at the Warhol, drek knows why. I led him upstairs and, deciding to be grandiose, threw wide the study doors as he entered.
He grinned, and strode past me. "May I present Dunklezahn," I announced.
The man the dragon had come to see stood as we entered. He hadn't cleaned up the room any; it still reeked of sausage and pepperoni. He'd managed to get dressed, though, and was wearing black boots, denim pants, and one of the white cotton shirts he'd bought the other day. He'd kept his face unpainted.
"It's been some time, hasn't it?" he said, touching his chest with the fingers of his left hand, just below the heart. I'd seen him do that a few times before, but he'd never explained what it meant. I think it meant he was viewing the new arrival as an equal, thank god.
"Yes, it has, Harlequin," replied the dragon, repeating the gesture. "I was pleased to hear of the outcome of your chal'han." Dunklezahn didn't turn, but I felt his attention rest on me for just a moment. Obviously, there were no secrets from him.
Harlequin grinned. "I'll bet you were." He gestured at the overstuffed black leather couch across from him. "Won't you sit down?"
The dragon nodded. "Thank you." He walked to the couch, considered it for a moment, then carefully sat down. Only when he was fully balanced on the seat did he lean back. He smiled.
"So, what can I do for you?" inquired Harlequin.
"I take it you are aware of my status?"
Harlequin tilted his head. "You mean as host of 'Wyrm Talk'?"
I laughed to myself. Dunklezahn had been interviewed by an international media team shortly after reemerging. He'd apparently enjoyed the experience, especially his spontaneous cross-examination of the journalists, so much so that he requested his own show from one of the networks. In the intervening years, he'd only given the idea his attention long enough to produce three shows. Harlequin and I had watched the show the last time it had aired. The dragon, obviously enthralled by modern culture, had spent the whole program commenting on an amazing range of topics. In a couple of segments, he'd taken the concept of confrontational journalism to such an extreme that I suggested the show should have been renamed "Wyrm Food."
Dunklezahn grinned. "Exactly so. I find the media absolutely fascinating. Free, unrestricted information exchange. Who would have imagined?"
"Well now, I wouldn't exactly call it unrestricted," said Harlequin.
"No," agreed the dragon. "nor would I. Which is precisely why I am here."
"Oh?"
"I would like you to be the subject of my next program."
"What!" Harlequin exclaimed, leaping to his feet.
I laughed aloud, and then clamped my hand over my mouth. Harlequin glared at me for a split second, so I knew I'd regret my indiscretion later, but it was such a joy seeing him surprised.
"Yes," continued the dragon. "I think you would make a wonderful guest."
Harlequin ran his hand through his hair as he shook his head. "Of all the things I was expecting to talk about…"
"But, Harlequin, you have always been the best storyteller. Just think how amazed these humans would be by the things you could tell them! There is so much they just don't understand…"
"And I'm certainly not going to tell them!" interrupted Harlequin.
The dragon moved his head oddly. "Is it not possible that they have a right to know? It is their world, after all."
Harlequin exhaled noisily, his brow furrowed. "You want to just tell them everything? Reveal all the myriad secrets of the universe? You want me to…" He turned toward me, arm extended and fingers twitching madly. "You want me to…"
"Spill my guts on global television?" I suggested.
"Yes!" he said, snapping his fingers and turning back toward the dragon, who blinked. "Do you want me to spill my guts on television? Open dear Pandora's box once again?"
"Well, yes," said the dragon. "Do you realize how confused they all must be? Look at how their world has changed. Is it not their right to know what it all means?"
Harlequin nodded vigorously and moved toward the center of the room, gesturing wildly. "Of course it is!" he said. "But why tell them? Let them figure it out; that's the fun of it all! The clues are there!"
"The clues?" The dragon and I were equally baffled.