"Yvette!" yelled Thorolf. "Tell these idiots who I am!"
Mechanically she recited: "He is Sergeant Thorolf of the Fourth Rhaetian Foot."
"We care not if he be a general!" a keeper cried. "No man shall molest our animals!"
"Hold! What's all this?" demanded a new voice, that of a lean, gray-haired man. Thorolf recognized Berthar, the director of the Zoological Park. He and the keepers all broke into heated explanations at once, while Yvette stood silently.
"Release Sergeant Thorolf!" said Berthar. "I know him for a true man. Ye say a gang of ready-for-aughts sought to abduct this lady? Where are they now?"
"They vanished whilst your men were netting me," Thorolf spat.
"We shall sift this matter. But excuse me; I must see that our dragon be well encaged."
When the hubbub had died, Thorolf took Yvette to Berthar's chamber of office. The room had books and papers piled on every horizontal surface, even the floor. Some of the piles were topped by the skulls of beasts that had dwelt and died in the park. A corner was occupied by a glass-paned terrarium. Berthar waved his visitors to chairs and poured small goblets of wine. After Thorolf had told of the pursuit of Yvette by Duke Gondomar, Berthar said:
"I shall alert the Constabulary to watch for these rogues."
"I've already told Lodar," said Thorolf, "but an additional reminder were not amiss."
"Is the Countess hale?" asked Berthar, nodding toward the silent Yvette. "She seems as quiet as Arnalt's tomb."
Thorolf shrugged. "Unharmed in body; but she is under certain—ah—influences. How have you been, Berthar?"
The Director spread his hands. "Nigh nibbled to death by the ducks of daily life. It hath been so ever since my former wife ran off with that water-of-life salesman. Today, for ensample, within a few hours, our Pantorozian tiger died; a keeper succumbed to the delusion that he was a Mauretanian viper and went about wriggling on his belly and trying to bite people; and Banker Gallus demanded that I give his old horse a good home, albeit without providing funds to do so. Then, to cap it all, came the raid of those rogues who were fain to enlarge the dragon, I ween to furnish a diversion to cover their abduction of your lady."
Thorolf noted: "I do perceive that your post be not one for weaklings. How flourishes the park?"
The Director shrugged. "As usual. It were a dire calamity had our prize specimen escaped. Obeying its natural instincts, it would have snapped up a tasty citizen or two. Then nought would have dissuaded your thick-skulled military from slaying the beast, as if one mountain dragon were not worth a score of human beings."
Thorolf raised his eyebrows. "How reckon you that?"
"The mountain dragon is an endangered species, whereas the world swarms with humanity. Man is in no danger of extermination, unless it destroy itself by devilish novel weapons like those Serican thunder tubes I hear of. It would serve the species right."
Thorolf gave a quiet laugh. "I never thought of it thus. Doubtless being human has warped my thinking."
"No species outranks any other in the eyes of the gods!" Berthar leaned forward. "Thorolf, know ye that I have a special fund for the acquisition of rare specimens, from donations by some wealthy citizens? Could I but obtain a female mountain dragon, 'twere worth ten thousand marks to its captor."
Thorolf whistled. "A lot of money for one stupid, dangerous beast!"
"My great ambition is to breed the creatures, and our lone specimen is a male." Glancing at the closed door, the director lowered his voice. "I have a personal reason to boot. I have long been an active alumnus of Horgus College. My banker friends tell me that, an I can bring off this feat, they'll see me elected to the Board."
"Alas!" said Thorolf. "I fear my soldierly duties leave me little time for dragon hunting. Anyway, how should I know a female dragon? How does one tell?"
"The female lacks the crest and the hornlike knobs above the eyes of the male. Some still roam the higher ranges, in trollish territory. Here, let me give you a copy of my monograph on the beast. I plan a journey into mountain-dragon land, if I can get the trolls' permission. "
"Thanks. To hunt your dragon?"
"Nay; for that I lack the means. 'Twould need a numerous party, sure to arouse the trolls' suspicion. What I seek is less formidable." He pointed to the terrarium.
Thorolf bent over the glass enclosure, seeing a surface of pebbles, sand, and moss, with water at one end. In the water a finger-long black newt with red spots on its hide moved slowly about with languid waves of its tail.
"What's that?" asked Thorolf. "Some kind of lizard?"
"Nay; a salamander of a kind hitherto unreported from Rhaetia."
"What's the difference?"
"Lizards live wholly on land, whereas salamanders are hatched in water, like tadpoles, and dwell both in water and on land. The great Doctor Karlovius at Saalingen, who reduced the chaos of the animal world to orderly families, genera, and species, hath made the distinction clear. I seek additional samples; less impressive than a dragon, belike, but not without significance in the heavenly scheme. If it differ sufficiently from the lowland type, I may have an unreported new species. Meanwhile, I pray, bear my dragon offer in mind."
"I shall, if I ever return to academe."
"I've heard of your scholarly troubles. Couldst not apply to some other center of learning?"
"So I did; but each demanded my scholarly records. Then they wrote to Horgus, and the replies they gat did damn me." He rose. "Thanks for the drink. My lady hungers, so we shall be off."
Thorolf took Yvette to the Green Dragon Inn and sent Orlandus' carriage and driver away. Yvette limped slightly as they entered the inn. To Thorolf's question she replied:
"I hurt my toe when I kicked that scrowle in's manhood. These shoon you bought me were too light for such footballery; next time I shall wear mountaineer's boots."
Thorolf asked Vasco if the room they had occupied before was vacant and engaged it for the night. Yvette stood silently by. Vasco gave the couple a sharp look, suppressed a smile, and handed Thorolf the key. "Wilt sup here, Sergeant?"
"Aye," Thorolf said. In the common room, Thorolf hung Yvette's gray cloak on a peg and held a chair for her. He almost whistled at the sight of the costly golden gown. It was a shimmery beaded affair, far too dressy for Vasco's, which was largely frequented by salesmen for Zurshnitt's far-famed clocks and cutlery. A large ruby brooch glittered between her small breasts; Thorolf could only guess that the diamonds around it were genuine.
Thorolf ordered a bottle of Vasco's best wine and then dinner. This time, she lagged behind him in drinking, while he watched her sharply. When he had drunk enough to feel the effects, he reasoned that, since he outweighed her two to one, she ought by now to be thoroughly besotted. Perhaps, he thought, the wine would subdue whatever entity had taken possession of her being and allow her natural self to break through. But, although she drank almost as much as he, she showed no effect whatever.
Through the repast, Thorolf kept up a running chatter, trying to elicit human reactions from Yvette. He told tales from Rhaetian history and legend; she merely nodded and said: "Yea, I understand." He told jokes, to which she smiled politely but without mirth. He made up versicles: