‘How do you know that?’ said Alfric, startled.
‘Oh, I have my sources,’ said Qa, sounding immensely pleased with himself. ‘Now where’s your horse?’
‘I told you I don’t have one.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ said Qa. ‘Your horse is my legitimate perk.’
‘Your perk?’
‘My perk, yes. Or my pay, that’s another way of putting it. That’s all part of my contract.’
‘Your contract?’ said Alfric in mounting amazement. ‘Yes. My contr act with Saxo Pall. I get paid, you know. You don’t think I’m in this for my health, do you? I’m guarding treasure. So I get paid just like any other guard.’
‘Dragons,’ said Alfric, ‘hoard treasure because that is their nature. They’re a breed of creature given to thieving because that’s how they’re bom. Like magpies. They like the bright and the shiny.’
‘Oh no,’ said Qa, sounding greatly offended. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. That’s land dragons you’re talking about, those great hulking brutes with much fire but no brains. Those are the ones who operate from instinct. But I’m a sea dragon, which means I’m at least the intellectual equal of every person in Wen Endex.’
‘You still hoard treasure and kill questing heroes,’ said Alfric, determined to win this debate.
‘Yes, yes, but not because I have any natural inclination to do any such thing. I do it because I get paid. I’m on an annual salary with a bonus for every questing hero duly killed and eaten. As for the horses, those are a perk. A legitimate perk! So where’s yours?’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Alfric. ‘What do you mean, you’re on a salary? Who’s paying you?’
‘Why, the Wormlord, of course,’ said Qa. ‘Who else would pay me?’
‘But — but you’re a — a — you’re an enemy of the state. A marauding monster. An outlaw.’
‘No,’ said Qa. ‘I’m a royal dragon. It increases the Wormlord’s prestige enormously to have me in Wen Endex.’
‘You’re talking the most absolute nonsense,’ said Alfric, starting to get angry. ‘The Wormlord doesn’t league with renegade monsters. The very idea is — is-’ ‘Monstrous?’ suggested Qa.
‘Well, yes, monstrous.’
‘Next thing you’ll be saying I’m monstrous!’ said Qa. ‘Listen here, Danbrog. Haven’t you learnt to think yet? How many men does it take to kill a dragon?’
‘You’re not immortal,’ said Alfric.
‘Blood of the Gloat!’ said Qa. ‘I invite it to think and all it does is threaten. It must be a Yudonic Knight, for all that it thinks itself a banker.’
‘Today I’m a Yudonic Knight indeed,’ said Alfric. ‘Hence I come with my sword to kill you.’
‘Why with a sword?’ said Qa.
‘Because that’s what tradition decrees,’ said Alfric. ‘And why do you come alone?’ said Qa. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s tr aditional as well.’
‘I can hardly tell you otherwise, because that’s the truth,’ said Alfric. ‘Tradition is what tradition is.’
‘And where does tradition come from, eh? Why don’t men go hunting dragons with crossbows? Eh? Ask yourself that, Danbrog. A dozen men with crossbows and I’d have no hope at all. The Wormlord sends people solo with swords because he wants them dead.’
‘That’s absurd!’ said Alfric.
‘Is it?’ said Qa. ‘Think about it. It’s a perfectly reasonable way for the king to get rid of dangerous young men with more ambition tha n sense.’ ‘Reasonable!’ said Alfric.
‘Oh yes,’ said Qa. ‘And merciful. I mean, they die with honour and all that. Better still, there’s no feud between the king and the families of the deceased.’ Alfric’s mind was positively boggling by now. But… what the dragon was saying made uncommonly good sense. And Alfric, thanks to his studies and experience with the Bank, knew all things are possible in politics. Weakly he asked:
‘Do you think this arrangement is strictly ethical?’ ‘Ethical?’ sa id Qa. ‘Oh yes, it’s ethical to ensure the orderly management of the a ffairs of state. Power is always challenged. You have to handle the ch allenges somehow.’ ‘There are other ways,’ said Alfric.
‘Of course there are,’ said Qa. ‘You could have democratic electio ns like the pirates of the Greaters.’ ‘Democratic elections?’ said Alf ric. ‘What are you talking about?’
The sea dragon Qa explained.
‘Oh,’ said Alfric, ‘now I know what you mean. Voting and all that. No, that’d never work in Wen Endex. The Knights would never stand for it. We’d have civil war. Besides, if we had one of these election things, the Wormlord might lose.’
‘So he might,’ said Qa. ‘So he doesn’t have elections. He has me, instead. I fulfil a very valuable social purpose. Consider. Someone threatens the Wormlord’s throne. If he kills that person, he risks feud and social disorder. So he sends the challenger here, to be eaten. Result? Order, stability and enhanced social cohesion. Plus the surviving relatives of the deceased are enormously proud of their fallen son, nephew, father or brother, as the case may be. I give them their pride.’
The dragon Qa said this with great pride of his own. Alfric felt weak at the knees. Was it true? Could it be true? It certainly made a lot of sense. It explained a lot of things.
‘Do you always tell people what’s going on?’ said Alfric, wondering how other questing heroes had reacted to the dragon’s revelations.
‘Oh no,’ said Qa. ‘Usually they’re mostly grossly unmannerly. They don’t have any time for talking at all. They come here drunk, you see. Most of them, at any rate. One or two have offered to share a drink with me, but unfortunately that’s a no-no.’
‘Why?’ said Alfric.
‘Because I’m an alcoholic,’ said Qa sadly. ‘Haven’t had a drink for years, but I’m still an alcoholic. I can’t fool myself, not now. Anyway, that’s how it is. They come here drunk, haul out their swords and hack away. Straight into it! Don’t even introduce themselves most of the time. Of course, I know who they are anyway.’
‘Why?’
‘I get told in advance, who’s coming, and usually when. I was expecting you. They told me you’d be here by night. But why night? I didn’t think to ask. But now I think of it, it’s most unusual. They usually come by day, you know.’
‘I walk the night because She walks the night also,’ said Alfric.
‘Oh,’ said the sea dragon Qa, as if it didn’t like the sound of that one little bit. ‘She walks, does She? Well, nice chatting. I have to go now.’
And the dragon started to back off toward the surf. ‘Go?’ said Alf ric. ‘But we’ve business to conduct. Listen, I’m here to kill you, but it doesn’t have to end that way. I’ve got a proposition.’
‘Then bring it to me in the cave,’ said Qa, the swash of dying surf washing around the rearmost of his four feet.
‘The cave?’ said Alfric, pursuing the dragon down the beach. ‘Why can’t we settle things here?’
‘I can’t kill people on the beach,’ said Qa. ‘That wouldn’t be lawful. My charter’s quite specific. All killings to be done on the island. In the cave, in fact.’ ‘Couldn’t we make an exception?’ said Alfric. ‘Just this once. I mean, it’s all the same to me whether I die here or on the island. And anyway, I’m not really expecting to die. Or to kill you. As I say, I’ve got a proposition.’
‘That sounds very, very interesting,’ said Qa. ‘But I can’t afford to violate the terms of my charter. One violation and it’s all over, you see.’
Water broke and buckled about Alfric’s ankles. It was cold, and flooded into his boots through flaws of which he had previously been unaware. Yet he did not retreat, for there was much he wanted to know. Instead, he demanded:
‘Your charter?’
‘My agreement with the Wormlord. Oh yes, I got a formal written agreement, you can be sure of that. Not that I keep it here. My solicitor has it safe in Galsh Ebrek.’
‘Your solicitor!’ ‘That’s right,’ said Qa. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you in the cave.’
‘I’m not swimming out to the island,’ said Alfric.
‘I’m not asking you to,’ said Qa. ‘The sea goes in and out twice a day. Tides, that’s what it’s called. Influence of the moon and all that. Oh, but you’d know about the moon. You being a werewolf and all that.’