dragon in his lair, Khisanth scampered over a low ridge.
From the rise Khisanth surveyed the stretch of marsh ahead. With her magic, she detected dark emotions in the vicinity, too far away to read but too strong to come from even the largest bear, or even the deadly, many-headed hydra.
Khisanth knew better than to approach the other dragon's lair too closely, knowing from her own experience that his senses would warn him of intruders if they were too bold. Instead, she took to the sky as a dragon to scout at a distance.
A dragon's imprint on the area was unmistakable to another dragon's eye. The largest trees were withered and blackened, but left standing as signs of ownership. Where boulders jutted above the water or marshy ground, they were cut deeply with parallel claw marks.
At the center of this area was a knob of ground covered in reeds and rocks. The stones looked unnatural, as if deliberately placed there ages before. The pattern suggested a series of con shy;centric rings, but most of the rocks were now tumbled and overgrown with rushes and swamp grass. Near the center of this knoll there was a blackness, clear indication of a lair.
Khisanth intended to leave a message not unlike his-the destruction of her tree. Blood once again pulsed pleasantly behind her eyes. Using the maynus, she banished the dark shy;ness from the night sky. A blinding beam of light shot for shy;ward from her claws to the entrance of the wyrm's lair, enveloping it in absolute brilliance.
As Khisanth had hoped, the other dragon crawled from the mouth of its lair and into the painfully bright light. Blink shy;ing against the light, the other dragon held up a claw arm to block it out. It kept the light from cutting at his eyes, but still he could see nothing but blinding whiteness around him.
Khisanth now had perfect opportunity to study her fellow black dragon, illuminated as he was. He had deep age lines around his eyes. His graying, spotted lips sagged on the sides like an old man's jowls, revealing more teeth missing than not. He was decked out in a necklace of sky-blue sapphires and forest-green emeralds with a matching anklet. Circling
his massive head was a pearl diadem, a large pear-shaped ruby at its center.
Khisanth allowed herself a brief, smug smile at his pain and confusion. She chose her first words carefully. "Now, dragon, we meet on equal footing." She hadn't heard her voice in so long that its deep, even timbre pleased her.
The other dragon held as still as stone for a moment. His eyes, one orange, the other blue, shifted from side to side. "Is that you, Talon?" his old voice rumbled, curious and con shy;cerned. "Put out that light so that I can see you."
"No, I'm not Talon. And as for the light, answer my ques shy;tions first, and I will consider dimming it." Khisanth watched for the other dragon to ready his breath weapon. His chest rose slowly, evenly. Still, her eyes never left him. "First, so that we may converse like civilized dragons, tell me your name."
"You say you're a dragon, but you don't sound like one. If you were a true wyrm, you'd know that dragons are not civi shy;lized. However, if you allow the absurdity of the term, 'civi shy;lized' dragons don't toy with each other this way. Either kill me," the older dragon challenged, "or douse the light so that I may see."
Khisanth's fury rose. "Civilized dragons don't attack each other without provocation," she countered.
"Of course they do. That's all they do. You really don't know a thing about dragons, do you?"
"So you admit you destroyed my lair!" Khisanth accused.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm far too old for that sort of young-bull-marking-his-territory foolishness-haven't done any shy;thing but hunt small mammals and find new lairs in years."
The old dragon's confusion seemed too real to be dis shy;missed. Besides, now that she could study him more closely, this old wyrm didn't look like the dragon she'd seen silhou shy;etted against the sky above her lair. "Who are you, then?"
"The light, please."
"Oh, yes." Khisanth touched the maynus and silently bade it to go dark. The area sank abruptly into soothing dusk, and Khisanth landed before the cave.
"Much better," said the dragon. He blinked hard several times, opened his eyes and sighed. "Are you still there? It'll take some time for the spots to go away." He squinted into the darkness at Khisanth. "Ah, there you are. A young one- that explains a lot. Among humans I was known as Pitch, but dragons call me Pteros." He drew back suddenly. "You haven't come to slay me and take my treasure, have you?"
"No. I came to learn why you attacked my lair. But if it wasn't you, who was it-another dragon that lives nearby?"
Pteros looked thoughtful. "This dragon … was its belly covered with scars? Did it leave its mark on a tree-two straight talon tracks, with squiggles for tails?
"Yes and yes! How did you know?"
"That's Talon. I know because I've seen his marks outside lairs for nearly a decade, which is how long he's chased me around the moor."
"What does he want?"
"Treasure."
"Why hasn't he just slain you and been done with it? And why did he flee before fighting me?"
"You give me little credit," Pteros grumbled, then shrugged. "Talon hasn't managed it because I keep one step ahead of him, moving before he can corner me." His wrinkled lids squinted. "Frankly, I'm none too happy that you were able to find me."
"It wasn't too difficult," snorted Khisanth. "You left tell shy;tale claw marks on the boulders. "Why don't you go kill this Talon instead of running?"
"I told you, I'm too old for that fighting-over-territory sort of thing."
"Sounds like you're doing just that, whether you mean to or not," observed Khisanth. "If you don't wish to fight, why don't you just move from the moors?"
"Where would I move to? There isn't another swamp as lush and wide as this in all of Ansalon. Besides," Pteros con shy;tinued without guile, "now that he's got you to focus on, he'll forget all about me. Nice knowing you." With that, the bejeweled old wyrm stretched his arthritic wings and swung his heavy tail around to reenter his lair.
"Wait a minute!" cried Khisanth, annoyed that he had so blithely dismissed her. "Why shouldn't I kill you and take your treasure?"
Pteros stopped, turned his orange eye on Khisanth, and tapped a sagging jowl, his expression thoughtful. "The last time a dragon asked me that was at a battle with Huma dur shy;ing the Third Dragon War." The dragon chuckled in fond memory. "Now there was a battle. Not this petty squabbling over swampland."
Khisanth's eyes grew wide. "You fought against Huma? The Huma? Huma Dragonbane?"
"Was there more than one?"
"Just how old are you?" she asked, studying his toothless jaw and wrinkled skin with new appreciation.
"What season is it? Summer?"
Khisanth nodded.
"Then that would make me one thousand three hundred seventy-eight human years, near as I can reckon." At Khi shy;santh's gasp of awe, Pteros shrugged again, looking unim shy;pressed. "I got a bit of extra time from the Sleep." He rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started on that subject."
Khisanth wanted to get him talking about everything that had to do with the dragons of old. Her mind reeled from the possibilities. She could learn from such a venerable dragon. A wyrm from the old days, when their kind had ruled by fear. One who had fought for their queen, Takhisis.
"I won't kill you if you agree to an arrangement."
Pteros used a sharp claw to scratch at a long, white scar on his belly. "And what arrangement would that be?"
"Take me on as an apprentice. Teach me everything you know. Tell me about the old days, when dragons were the rulers of all they saw."
"You've got that a little-"
"You look as if you've seen your share of battles," Khi shy;santh cut in. With an admiring look she surveyed the other dragon's scars, though the flabby muscles beneath them gave her pause. "In exchange, I'll get you back in shape so that you