All of this had become apparent to me as soon as we had entered the warehouse, so there was no reason to busy oneself with make-work additional checks. Nunzio, however, seemed bound and determined to prod me into rediscovering what I already knew. Even allowing for the fact that the human senses of sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell are far below those of dragons, I was nonetheless appalled at how little he was able to detect on his own. Perhaps if he focused less of his attention on me and more on what was going on around us, he would have fared better. As it was, he was hopeless. If Skeeve was hoping that Nunzio would learn something from me, which was the only reason I could imagine for including him on the assignment, my pet was going to be sorely disappointed. Other than the fact that he seemed to try harder than most humans to interact positively with dragons, however crude and ignorant his attempts might be, I couldn’t imagine why I was as tolerant of him as I was.
Whoever it was in the rafters was moving closer now. He might have been stealthy for a human, buy my ears tracked him as easily as if he were banging two pots together as he came. While I was aware of his presence two steps through the door, I had been uncertain as to his intentions and therefore had been willing to be patient until sure whether he were simply an innocent bystander, or if he indeed entertained thoughts of larceny. His attempts to sneak up on us confirmed to me he was one of the latter ilk, however incompetent he might be at it.
Trying to let Nunzio benefit from my abilities, I swiveled my head around and pointed at the intruder with my nose.
“Pay attention, Gleep!” my idiot charge said, jerking my muzzle down toward the boxes again. “This is what we’re supposed to be guardin’. Understand?”
I understood that either humans were even slower to learn than the most critical dragons gave them credit for, which I was beginning to believe, or this particular specimen was brain-damaged, which was also a possibility. Rolling my eyes, I check on the intruder again.
He was nearly above us now, his legs spread wide supporting his weight on two of the rafters. With careful deliberation, he removed something from within his sleeve, raised it to his mouth, and pointed it at us.
Part of the early training of any dragon is a series of lessons designed to impart a detailed knowledge of human weapons. This may sound strange for what is basically a peace-loving folk, but we consider it to be simple survival…such as humans instructing their young that bees sting or fire is hot. Regardless of our motivations, let it suffice to say that I was as cognizant of human weapons as any human, and considerably more so than any not in the military or other heroic vocations, and as such had no difficulty at identifying the implement being directed at us as a blowgun.
Now, in addition to having better sense, dragons have armor which provides substantially more protection than humans enjoy from their skin. Consequently, I was relatively certain that whatever was set to emerge from the business end of the blowgun would not pose a threat to my well-being. It occurred to me, however, that the same could not be said for Nunzio and, as I have said before, I have qualms about going to some lengths to ensure my pet’s peace of mind by protecting his associates.
Jerking my head free from Nunzio’s grasp, I took quick aim and loosed a burst of #6 flame. Oh, yes. Dragons have various degrees of flame at their disposal, ranging from “toast a marshmallow” to “make a hole in rock.” You might keep that in mind the next time you consider arguing with a dragon.
Within seconds of my extinguishing the pyrotechnics, a brief shower of black powder drifted down on us.
“Darn it, Gleep!” Nunzio said, brushing the powder from his clothes. “Don’t do that again, hear me? Next time you might do more than knock some dust loose…and look at my clothes! Bad dragon!”
I had been around humans enough not to expect any thanks, but I found it annoying to be scolded for saving his life. With as much dignity as I could muster, which is considerable, I turned and sat with my back to him.
“GLEEP! UP, BOY! GOOD DRAGON! GOOD DRAGON!”
That was more like it. I turned to face him again, only to find him hopping around holding his foot. Not lacking in mental faculties, I was able to deduce that, in making my indignant gesture, I had succeeded in sitting on his lower extremities. It was unintentional, I assure you, as human feet are rather small and my excellent sense of touch does not extend to my posterior, but it did occur to me in hindsight (no pun intended) that it served him right.
“Look, you just sit there and I’ll sit over here and we’ll get along fine. Okay?”
He limped over to one of the cartons and sat down, alternately rubbing his foot and brushing his clothes off.
The powder was, of course, the remains of the late intruder/assassin. #6 flame has a tendency to have that effect on humans, which is why I used it. While human burial rights have always been a source of curiosity and puzzlement to me, I was fairly certain that they did not include having one’s cremated remains brushed onto the floor or removed by a laundry service. Still, considering my difficulty in communicating a simple “look out” to Nunzio, I decided it would be too much effort to convey to him exactly what he was doing.
If my attitude toward killing a human seems a bit shocking in its casualness, remember that to dragons humans are an inferior species. You do not flinch from killing fleas to ensure the comfort of your dog or cat, regardless of what the surviving fleas might think of your callous actions, and I do not hesitate to remove a bothersome human who might cause my pet distress by his actions. At least we dragons generally focus on individuals as opposed to the wholesale slaughter of species humans seem to accept as part of their daily life.
“You know, Gleep,” Nunzio said, regarding me carefully, “after a while in your company, even Guido’s braggin’ sounds good…but don’t tell him I said that.”
“Gleep?”
That last sort of slipped out. As you may have noticed, I am sufficiently self-conscious about my one-word human vocabulary that I try to rely on it as little as possible. The concept of my telling Guido anything, however, startled me into the utterance.
“Now, don’t take it so hard,” Nunzio scowled, as always interpreting my word wrong. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just a little sore, is all.”
I assumed he was referring to his foot. The human was feeling chatty, however, and I soon learned otherwise.
“I just don’t know what’s goin’ on lately, Gleep. Know what I mean? On the paperwork things couldn’t be goin’ better, except lately everybody’s been actin’ crazy. First the Boss buys a casino we built for somebody else, then overnight he wants to sell it. Bunny and Tananda are goin’ at each other for a while, then all of a sudden Bunny’s actin’ quiet and depressed and Tananda…did you know she wanted to borrow money from me the other day? Right after she gets done with that collection job? I don’t know what she did with her commission or why she doesn’t ask the Boss for an advance or even what she needs the money for. Just ‘Can you spot me some cash, Nunzio? No questions asked?’, and when I try to offer my services as a confidential type, she sez ‘In that case, forget it. I’ll ask someone else!’ and leaves all huffy-like. I’ll tell ya, Gleep, there’s sumpin’ afoot, and I’m not sure I like it.”