"To the mystery of life, Dunklezahn! The world is like a giant tapestry. You start out standing very close to the picture. There's a lot to see, and you could spend your whole life inspecting that one little section. Some find that section isn't enough. They step back to see more of the picture. Eventually, they may find themselves standing so far back that they see the whole tapestry hanging before them. But if you start them standing all the way back, they'll be confused. They won't know where to look first. They'll miss seeing the whole picture." He folded his arms across his chest, a satisfied smirk on his face. I eyed the dragon, who still looked perplexed.
"Are there not some things they should be warned…" he began.
"You mean like the invae?" Harlequin broke in.
"As a beginning, yes," the dragon told him.
Harlequin dismissed the idea with a gesture. "They're of no concern. In fact, they actually support my point! The humans knew nothing of their coming, but have been dealing with them quite nicely, nonetheless. Spilling our guts…" he nodded to me, "…to the humans early on would have denied them the discovery! The joy is in the unfolding. Let them marvel at their world, horrific as it may sometimes be. Let's not reveal the end of the tale before the final page is turned, Dunklezahn. Allow the story to tell itself."
The dragon seemed to be staring at the now-cold pizza, but I could tell he was lost in thought. Finally, with a sigh, he stood and nodded. "I will take that as a no."
Harlequin laughed, looked down, and shook his head.
"Thank you for your hospitality," said Dunklezahn, moving slowly toward the door.
Harlequin looked up. "I hope I haven't fouled up your schedule of guests."
The dragon smiled innocently. "No, not at all. I may ask Lady Brane Deigh of the Daoine Sidhe to speak in your place."
Harlequin's face stilled. "I wouldn't recommend that."
"Oh?"
"Dunklezahn, you and I have always at least been cordial," Harlequin began.
"Very true."
"But I warn you, there are some of my kind, and your kind, who think you have told too much already."
"Oh?"
"Your comments about great dragons and dracoforms, for one thing."
The dragon nodded. "Yes, I received some… grief for that."
"Should you start to speak of other things…"
Dunklezahn nodded again. "Thank you for your warning, Harlequin." He added wistfully, "You are quite sure of your decision? Such wonderful stories could be told."
Harlequin smiled. "And they will be, in time."
The dragon touched his fingers to his chest again, and when Harlequin had repeated the gesture, began to walk out of the room. He stopped as he passed me. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, my lady," he said. "You do your heritage proud." I smiled, and couldn't think of what to say, so I touched my fingers to my chest. He smiled, and returned the gesture.
I closed the doors behind him, and turned back to Harlequin. "It's too bad," I said sadly. "I kind of like him."
"I do too," Harlequin replied, looking down at his papers. "He's the most reasonable of them all. It'll be a shame when we have to destroy him."
POST MORTEM
by Tom Dowd
They sit for a few minutes in uneasy silence. Around them the lives of those who'd chosen to visit the park this day unfold, all but oblivious to the two on the bench. Any other reaction would be a shock to both as neither appears to the unschooled as they actually are. Today they appear as two of the homeless, an ork and a dwarf, which is almost as far from the truth as one can get and still retain a degree of sanity.
The ork, aged and dark skinned, finally turns his head slightly and regards the other through what seems to be the misty gray of partial cataracts. The dwarf, light skinned and long unshaven, does not move from staring at the stagnant pond they face.
"So," the ork finally says, his tone low and careful, "did you kill him?"
The dwarf shifts his gaze to meet the other's. He shakes his head. "No. Did you?"
"No." The dark ork sighs.
The other nods. "I could not convince myself one way or the other as to your guilt."
"Me either."
The dwarf raises a bushy eyebrow. "As usual, I do not follow your drift."
The other nods again. "Exactly so." he replies. "I meant that there were times where I had to consciously think about whether or not I had killed him myself or arranged to have it done. I hadn't, but could have, and perhaps should have, hence my confusion."
"Many believe you had a hand in it."
"Of course they do. Let them." The ork says. "It is a dark and terrible thing I have done." he adds, chuckling.
"Then who?"
There is a long silence between them.
"Blood and tears," the ork says finally, "the list is disquietingly short."
The other nods. "The years slip behind us like a soft breeze, carrying away friend and foe alike, leaving us only the rumor of their passing."
The ork snorts, looks away and stares at the pond. "You're in a better place to know; anyone else show up?"
Shaking his head, the dwarf says: "No. Of course, we always hear rumors. None have proven true."
"I sometimes get odd sensations that there are others out there, but this is the first Awakening I've seen. It could be normal," the ork tells him.
"Perhaps." The dwarf pauses a moment, then decides. "Lofwyr all but outright said that he believes there to be another dragon."
The ork tilts his head slightly. "Really? Any clue?"
"No. He could have been speaking of the resurrected Alamais, but somehow I doubt it." The ork nods again.
"I'd have thought it more likely that many of the others who'd survived would have talked to you before any of the Courts." the dwarf says.
The ork shrugs. "Maybe."
"So you are saying that you do not know of any others that I do not."
The ork turns his head and raises an eyebrow slightly. "How the frag can I say that? But, since we are being up front I will say that to the best of my knowledge I do not know of anyone else that you don't also know about."
Looking away, the dwarf nods and then falls silent for a moment.
"So, since we are here," the dwarf finally asks, keeping his tone as neutral as he can, "how is my daughter?"
The appearance of the dark skinned ork shifts without warning, slipping into a smear of color and shape as his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He turns his head very slowly as he regains his composure. "Excuse me?"
A slight grin appears barely visible beneath the other's matted white hair. "Of course I knew, you twit. I am not as completely self absorbed as you like to believe."
"No, I suppose you couldn't be…"
"How is she? I presume you are training her? Is she a quick study?" There is a surprising eagerness in his eyes.
"Yes, yes she is. I wasn't sure at first, but she catches on quickly." the other tells him. "She has an intriguing perspective that at times is a gross hindrance but at other times is damn practical."
"Good." There is another long pause. "Does she know?"
"Know what?" the ork asks as innocently as he can.
"You know exactly what I mean you caustic goat!"
This time the ork smiles. "No. She doesn't."
"Good."
"Good? Good? Not too long ago you'd have tried to force me to eat bone worms for less!"
"True, but she needs to find her own way." the dwarf says. "Though she is of me, she is not me. Keeping her close by would only force her to be something she is not."
"Yea," the ork says, "Glasgian really is a shit, isn't he?"
"I said nothing of the kind." the dwarf retorts. "But yes, he is a proof of my point."
The ork nods again. "Still, I have to say I'm surprised that you're not more pissed off at me. I wasn't sure if your asking for this face to face was about daughter or dragon."
"Which concerned you more?"
"Daughter." The ork tells him after a moment. "You were never particularly fond of the dragon."
"I never had any quarrel with the dragon. It was the motion of his mouth I thought we could all do without."