Dragon Ultimate (50 page)

He had taken ample revenge. Around the enemy's campfires the Purple Green of Hook Mountain was a figure of dreadful legend.

Volk and Alsebra came over and took up positions beside them. Vlok set down a fresh keg of beer. The Purple Green took a lengthy swig, downing a couple of gallons. Vlok was in an excited state.

"By the breath, boy Swane tell me how much gold we have. This dragon cannot think in such numbers. Numbers too big. They hurt this dragon's head."

Bazil winked at the Purple Green, who kept his retort to himself.

The members of the 109th who'd fought in Eigo had been given gold by the King of Og Bogon. Despite the plagues their investments had done famously well, and now they were well set for retirement.

"This dragon have to thank you, Bazil," said Vlok. Vlok had had his fill of ale, Bazil could tell.

"Thanks to King Choulaput. He give us enough gold for all dragons in this squadron to retire and have horses."

"Can we buy land near you?"

"Of course, Vlok. I'd hope you would. Boy Relkin would miss boy Swane."

Bazil and Alsebra exchanged raised eyebrows.

"To think that we will end up as neighbors of Vlok…" said Alsebra in wonder.

The Purple Green started to say something unkind, but Bazil hushed him and said, "This dragon like that idea. A village of old friends."

Alsebra clacked her jaws quietly.

"Jak want to live in home village. This dragon not sure boy Jak would want to go to Kenor."

"Kenor is a long way, but land there much cheaper than in Blue Stone or Seant."

Alsebra could see the logic of that. B ut she could not overrule the dragonboy, who had planned his retirement carefully.

"Chektor be retiring very soon," said Vlok, spotting a huge brasshide dragon coming toward them. "What will you do when you retire, Chek?"

Chektor was a big, heavyset brass, who had been in the 109th from the beginning and seen fighting all over the world and survived it all. He and Bazil were the only survivors from the original squadron. He would be the next dragon to reach retirement.

"This dragon like the idea of living close to old friends. Boy Mono wants to do this, too."

"How does boy Swane think?" said the Purple Green to Vlok.

"Boy want to live in Seant. Where we grow up."

"It is crowded in Seant. Land is expensive."

"That is good point. This dragon will bring that up."

They passed around the keg and drained it dry. Chektor set it down behind him.

"This dragon has a question," rumbled the Purple Green.

"Yes?"

"Why does boy Relkin need wedding to help fertilize the eggs? Is it because of magic?"

The Purple Green was still trying to fathom that place where magic ended and civilization supposedly began. To his wild ways, simple bookkeeping was magic. The enormous web of social controls that kept the city of Marneri operating also seemed like magic.

In fact, Bazil had been thinking about this for weeks. He had watched Relkin consumed by innumerable anxieties during the preparation process, and Bazil had learned just how complex and expensive a wedding could be.

"No," he said. "It is ceremony they need because they live together afterward. See, dragons mate and then separate. Female not want us around when she raise young."

They all nodded thoughtfully. Wild female dragons were scarcely approachable when they had young. This applied to wyverns as much as to winged dragons.

"Humans live together. They need big ceremony. This dragon thinks it makes their new life special. They make big fuss and then remember this fuss and that helps them when they disagree."

"Ah," said several listeners.

"That explain much to this dragon," said the Purple Green.

Humans were obviously quite mad.

As for Relkin, he could not escape the attentions of the 109th dragonboys forever. They surrounded him, and he had to drink a pint of ale and sing a verse of the Kenor song atop the keg before they'd let him go.

"Good-bye, Quoshite!" said Swane, pounding him on the back.

"By the Hand, Swane, you take care of yourself. How you're going to survive without me to take care of you I cannot imagine."

Swane roared. "Listen to that Quoshite!"

"Farewell, Relkin," said Jak with a long handclasp.

"Good-bye, Jak. Are you sure you don't want to take land in Kenor?"

"Well, I think I'd like to go back to my own village. Try it there first. Then, if I don't take to it, we'll come up to Kenor."

"Don't want to wait too long; you might miss all the best land.

"And this holds for all of you," Relkin faced them. A dozen faces turned to him.

"What does?" roared Rakama.

"Come up and settle in the Kalens valley. There's good land up there, and there's going to be an Imperial chute built to cut out the big rapids on the Bur."

"So it'll be easy to move grain downstream, you mean," said Swane.

"Hey, you got it, big man."

"Sounds good to me," said big Swane, whose plans for going back to Seant had just been jettisoned by some process that he never would understand.

Others agreed loudly that it was a fine idea. The more of them there were, with dragons, the bigger the projects they could undertake for their mutual good.

"Start our own village," said Mono.

"First I have to get a wife," said Endi, always the practical one.

"We'd better wish Endi a lot of luck then!" said Rakama.

"Hey," said Swane, "Endi's no uglier than me."

"By the Hand, that's not saying much."

Swane and Rakama started tussling and spraying ale on each other until they were separated and subdued by the others.

"Farewell, Relkin, 'til we meet again," said Manuel, coming up a little later to bid Relkin good-bye.

"You're coming up to the Kalens right?"

"That's the plan. Thanks to you two we have enough money to make a really strong start."

"I heard that the Purple Green is looking forward to being a farm dragon."

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite that way. Let's say he understands better what it will mean. I finally got him to listen, and I explained about using horses for the heavy hauling. He really wasn't keen on the idea of hauling and pulling a plow."

"Oh, you might as well pull that plow yourself as try to get a dragon to do it." Relkin paused a moment, having caught sight of his bride for a moment. A flash of white silk amongst a throng of girls in blue and pink. She was laughing, eyes flashing and so wonderfully alive that Relkin felt his heart soar. Then they were gone, a pack of Tarcho girls and his wife, off about some mission of their own.

"The Purple Green could be great for building up a farm. He's stronger than a dozen oxen."

"And over the years he's learned how to wield an ax."

"Hey, Relkin," said Endi, breaking in, "what do you think of this new plow they're talking about?"

"Oh, the Imperial?" It was the sensation of the moment, a wonderful new design from Andiquant that worked out to about half the cost of the older plows.

"Right. I saw one being used up at Dashwood. Looked strange."

"Supposed to be strong but light. Takes less metal."

He dropped back into the conversation about farm equipment and the merits of oxen and horses and the disadvantages of both animals. This was all part of a long list of things that they were all becoming familiar with as retirement loomed closer.

They talked long into the night and the kegs went around and around, even after the dragons themselves had tired and gone to their stalls for sleep.

Relkin, too, had long since gone. After a brief stop in the stall to be sure the dragon was sleeping comfortably, he headed up to the tower and the apartment where Eilsa was waiting.

At first light they rose and went down to the dragonhouse to wake Bazil and see to getting an early breakfast for all three of them. Bazil and Relkin were no longer in the Legion, and they could leave whenever they wanted.

While the rest of the dragonhouse slumbered on they ate quickly and made a quiet departure. Relkin had bought a brand-new wagon and a team of four horses to pull it. The wagon was stuffed with everything from tools to cloth, thread to leather. All the materials that would be essential in starting their new life on the frontier.

Bazil had put the sword on the wagon at first, but then when pulling on his pack, he had felt oddly bereft without the harness, scabbard, and the great sword, Ecator, on his shoulders. It didn't feel right.

He'd demanded that Relkin help him reequip right away. After seeing the look in the dragon's eyes, Relkin did so without a word. The dragon was uneasy. A huge change was coming, and there were uncertainties in the future. Bazil looked to have the sword close to hand. It had always been a good policy in the past.

Eilsa smiled quizzically when he jumped back up to his seat at the front of the wagon.

"Dragons don't like change. He missed the weight of the sword."

Eilsa understood after a moment. "It's reassuring to him."

"Well, it's certainly reassuring to me. Anyone foolish enough to try and rob this wagon will have to deal with Bazil and that sword."

And so they exited the North Gate, with a shout to Osver, the spirit of the gate. The sun was well up now, and the white city was lit up in golden light. The guards waved farewell to the Broketail dragon, and then they were gone, marching into history.

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