The Old Fire
                              Jody Lynn Nye
                                  «^»



   Mev clenched her hands together to keep from jumping into the
arena after her daughter. At ten years of age, Kitra was so small, so
delicate, Mev worried about her getting hurt. But this was the final
examination. If Kitra was ever to prove herself, this was the time.
The little girl stood at one side of the sandy expanse, taking big
breaths that made her shoulders heave under the oversized leather
tunic. Suddenly, she sprang into action.

  "Eeee!" Kitra shrieked, bearing down on her opponent, her little
sword raised in both hands above her head. "Take that! And that!"

    The other child, taken by surprise, put up a poor fight. In no time
at all, Kitra was holding the bigger boy down with her foot. She
pointed the blunted sword at his throat and shrilled, "Surrender or
die!"

   "That's my girl," Mev said, brushing a tear from the corner of her
eye. The child not only looked just like her, with her broad, pointed
chin and eager black eyes, but she was a chip off the old tilting block.
Mev was so proud she felt her heart would burst. From the hubbub
coming from the judges' enclosure near the barrier, she thought it was
a sure thing that Kitra would be accepted for junior combat training.
The other parents, most of them farmers, millers, coopers and
shopkeepers, gathered up their disappointed youngsters, and went
back about their business. They weren't really cut out for the warrior
trade. Kitra, on the other hand, had just proved she was fit to carry on
a proud family tradition. Mev might not be in the adventuring
business any more, but she was giving the world its next heroine.

   Something rapped Mev on the shoulder, and she turned around,
hand automatically reaching for the sword at her belt. Secondary
responses took hold in a moment, telling her that there wasn't a sword
there-hadn't been for years-and that knocking the head off one of her
neighbors was frowned upon. Instead, she folded her arms and stared
balefully at the man who had touched her. He was a stranger.

   "And who the blazes are you?" Mev asked.

  "You're Mev Grayshield?" The man asked, looking her up and
down. "I was expecting someone more…"

   Mev put her hands on her hips. True, those hips were somewhat
more rounded than they'd been when she was part of the attack force
that brought down the Fendarian citadel ten years before, but
nevertheless, they were an integral part of the same woman. True, her
mass of thick, frizzy dark hair pulled back with a leather thong was
shot with white, and her muscular arms were getting a little flabby
around the triceps, but how did anyone dare to doubt her identity?

  "More what?" she snarled, sticking out her jaw. It was still an
impressive jaw.

   The skinny, bearded man backed up a hasty pace. He wasn't so
much to look at, himself. Probably fifty, ten years older than Mev, a
hand's-breadth shorter, and he had the pathetic, pale complexion of a
man who went outside only when he had to. He blinked watery blue
eyes at her.

   "I'm looking for you, because I need to hire a fearless adventurer."

   "Still fearless," Mev said, with a shrug, "but I retired years ago."

   The man pursed his lips in amusement, and looked past her at the
arena, where Kitra was receiving the congratulations of her
companions, the ones who could still walk.

   "I see," he said, "but I need you. I am the Wizard Folminade. I
serve the Duke of Kelevlund."

   "Sorry, friend. There are other qualified warriors. I keep in touch
with a number of my old colleagues. I'll give you their names. Ask
around. Try the bars in any big city." She started away.

   "No," the man insisted, hurrying after her. Mev sized him up with
an eye. He was puny. If he got fresh, she could break him in two with
one hand. "It's you I need. There's gold in the deal for you. Lots of
gold. A lifetimes worth."

    Mev eyed him with speculation. It was the first thing he'd said that
had made any sense. "All right. Come back to my house and we'll
talk."

    While Kitra sat on the floor and played siege with her dolls, the
stranger outlined his mission.

   "Haste is an issue," he said. "You are familiar with the Amulet of
Zgrumn?"
  The very word hummed with power on the air in the little cottage.
Mev felt the stirring of old campaigns in her memory. She nodded.

   "I never came across it, but I've heard of it. It'll heal your ills if
you can pronounce its name correctly. Changed hands a hundred
thousand times. Is that the one?"

   Folminade nodded his head. "The duchess is very ill. The healers
can do nothing for her. I think it's a magical malady, but my degrees
are in divination and strategic defense, not medicine." He looked
around the cottage. It wasn't a half bad place, Mev had to admit,
although she was a lot better at razing houses than building them. The
door had a defensive barricade that barred it in three places when it
was shut. The window shutters had spikes on the outside. Even the
chimney had a steel grate seven feet from the top so an intruder could
get partway in, but couldn't get out without giving her plenty of
notice. Only twelve feet underground she could tap a hidden stream.
The secret well head was concealed under the clothespress at the
foot of her bed. The wizard's soggy gaze returned to her. "We need
the amulet."

   "Why come to me?" she asked.

   "Litfusia has it."

   Litfusia! The name sent a chill up Mev's back and down through
her belly. She hadn't heard that name in years.

   "You're the only person who's ever gone into the white dragon's
cave and come out alive," Folminade said. "You can find your way
quickly, more quickly than anyone else." Before she could protest, he
grabbed for her wrist. "Please. There isn't time for anyone else. His
Grace is counting on you. And there's the reward to think of."

   Well, Mev could take or leave the nobility, but money was money.
The gold from her first withdrawal from Litfusia's hoard was about
gone, and there would be combat school fees to pay, not to mention
the fact Kitra was growing out of her kiddy armor; and Mev's two
older children, one in wizardry school, one in service to the local
lord, always needed something. She hated above all things to tell
them they couldn't have it. A ducat didn't go as far as it used to.

   "All right," she said.

   Folminade's eyes shone like torches under glass. "You won't
regret it."



   Had it really been twenty years? she asked herself as she cleared
away brush and fallen rocks from the mouth of the hidden tunnel that
led to the maze of airways far below the dragon's eyrie. Folminade
stood by with his arms crossed, watching. Useless bag of bones. The
mountain, Litfusia's mountain, loomed above them, dark, rocky and
barren, but it didn't seem as terrifyingly high as it had the first time.
The paths she had thought as so dangerous and precipitous before
were not especially perilous, in light of twenty years' experience.
She welcomed the chance to put her first enterprise in perspective, to
see if after all this time she really had deserved respect for it, or not.

   "Hurry," Folminade said. "It'll see us."
   "No," Mev said, calmly. "It'll see the lunch we left out, first. Two
nice bullocks and a wild sheep bleating its head off should ring the
dinner bell for any self-respecting firebreather."

   With a lever formed from a fallen tree branch, Mev pulled away
the last rock blocking the entrance. A foul, cold blast of air slapped
her in the face. This was it, all right. She wished she could bottle Eau
de Dragon's Lair. She'd make a fortune. Anyone who wanted to keep
out intruders could spray it all over the outside of his or her house.
Unfortunately, it wouldn't keep out tax collectors or beggars. Greed
seemed to be the only thing that made you immune to it. Mev put her
arms through the straps of her pack, and lit the first of the
pitch-soaked torches she'd brought along. Rule two of the barbarian's
handbook was that one never lasted long enough to get you out again.
Rule one was never carry anything too heavy to keep you from
running for your life.

   Folminade watched her impatiently. The wind whipped his robe
around his skinny legs.

   "Well, get on with it," he said.

   Mev took a deep breath and prepared herself to climb into the
tunnel. Folminade sat down.

   "Aren't you coming with me?" she asked.

   "Heavens, no!" he said, peevishly. "I'm not an adventurer. I'm a
scholar. I've told you what to look for. That's all you should need."
   "Useless bag of bones," Mev repeated sourly to herself. She thrust
the torch into the entrance.

   The flames burned away the cold and with it, much of the rotten
smell. Thick swags of spider web and ghostly white moss hung in her
way. Mev chased them upward into thin black cinders with the torch.
There was a temptation to clear the tunnel to the walls, but the
housewife part of her retreated farther into her mind the higher she
climbed.



   The white dragon was an old adversary, almost the first one Mev
had ever faced, as a young and foolish warrior maiden. Litfusia had
been very young, too. In retrospect, Mev was grateful for the
advantage. It had had very little experience in dealing with humans.
Luckily for her, because she had been so green, she'd made all the
mistakes the older warriors had warned her not to, which would have
gotten her killed by an older and savvier dragon.

    With the help of old charts and a guide, Mev had sneaked into the
lair through the maze of twisting natural tunnels that served Litfusia
as a cross-ventilation system. While it slept off a heavy meal
(thoughtfully left out for it beforehand by Mev) she had gathered up a
bag of treasure.

   The white dragon had collected an astonishing assortment of
valuables in a relatively short career. Mev had become so engrossed
in picking out the best of the loot that she stopped listening to the
dragon's breathing. The sudden silence was what had made Mev look
up at last. Never let it see you, the others had said. But if you do,
look hard. It'll be the last thing you'll ever see.

    She would never forget as the two of them stood eye to eye, just
for a split second. Sometimes she still saw it in her dreams: the white
face, almost as tall as she, with its glowing red eyes, backswept
fringed ears, and catfish whiskers around the toothy, pointed jaws.
On her paws and on the joints of its huge white wings, Litfusia had
red claws longer than Mev's hand, but it didn't need them as
weapons. That image was burned into her memory forever, then the
dragon's pupil slits narrowed, and it hauled back its big head to
inhale. Mev ran for it. As the warrior maiden had fled the cavern, the
dragon gave her a fire blast to remember her by, burning her leather
tunic right off her skin. Mev hadn't been able to sit down for a month.
She still had the scars.

   Mev had also forgotten to arrange with her guide to stay long
enough to guide her back. She had become damned sick of dragging
the heavy bag after her by the time she found her way out, though the
sum was worth the trouble. Her house, her clothes, and even the
sword hanging against her spine had all been paid for by that one
great adventure. The escapade gave her bragging rights among
bigger, older, and more experienced warriors of both sexes, and
made her reputation.

    Dragons had long memories and short tempers. The fact that
Litfusia would certainly try to kill her if it recognized her was all
part of the game. Litfusia was older and wiser, but so was Mev. She
meant to earn that reward, if she could. After all, it wasn't easy to
reenter the workplace after taking off years to raise a family. She'd
always meant to, once her last child was old enough to take care of
itself. Mev never thought that the opportunity would be offered to her
so soon.

    With a good dollop of cash in hand, Mev could look forward to a
very comfortable old age. She could be picky about her next mission,
if she took any at all.

    When she had been young, she had had to take what she could get.
There'd been no thought of retirement benefits for old female
warriors. There hadn't been any thought of retirement benefits for old
male warriors, either. No one thought warriors could look forward to
retiring at all. The job had a nearly 100% mortality rate, if you did it
right. Few survived to grow old. Such a thing was considered to be a
failure at one's profession. Fewer still thought of providing for their
dotage. Mev herself hadn't ever considered the future.

   She gained perspective entirely by accident, after she and the
warrior general Ricasso had fallen into each others' arms after a
long, hot battle in the fifth year of her career. Neither of them ever
thought about the possibility of pregnancy. Swordfighting was
generally considered to be effective as a means of contraception.
Afterwards, it was too late for her to do anything but wear loose
tunics. The Stork Goddess was on the way. At last, Mev had had no
choice but to retire and go back to her village to await her offspring.
Suddenly, she had to consider the needs of someone else, who had
call on her services before kings or dukes or gods.

   Motherhood was an unprecedented situation in her experience.
Mev had to admit that even though she'd found adventuring hard,
there was nothing harder than raising a family. Babies were helpless.
They couldn't do anything for themselves. When you screamed at
crying infants, they sobbed harder. They couldn't assist in a pitched
battle. All of them spat out the healthy diet of hardtack and cabbage
water she had lived on for years. They liked soft beds and little
animals.

    No invasion she had had to withstand, no siege she'd lifted, no
monster she had battled, no forlorn hope she'd defended had ever
pushed her so close to despair. She was ready to defend her children
to the death. This was good when they needed her to dispatch
nightmare monsters and wild animals, but she hadn't the slightest idea
how to deal with back-yard spats between her little ones and the
children who lived in the nearby cottages, or the parents of those
children, who kept a healthy distance from the storied swordswoman
who lived in their midst like a phoenix in a chicken coop. (She was
pretty certain that was why her elder daughter had chosen to enter
wizardry school in a village half a day's ride away; none of the boys
there would ever have seen her mother bring down a running hare
with an ax.) All that came with hard-won experience. She had a lot
more respect and sympathy for other women, who hadn't an iota of
defense training, yet still stood between their little ones and armed
enemy soldiers.

   Ricasso had come through her village a few times over the years
on the way to a battle or a siege, his visits resulting in a couple more
children, and further delays to Mev's return to work. The last time
she'd seen him was nine months before Kitra's birth. She heard that
he had died gloriously in battle, exactly the way he'd have wanted to
go. Pity. He'd have enjoyed this mission, a straight grab-and-run,
with the possibility of additional loot, plus a guaranteed reward for
success. It was almost impossible to fail. She could almost picture
herself as that fierce, young warrior maiden who had helped to
overrun citadels, force city gates and kill a thousand enemies.
Onward, she urged herself, climbing steadily up through the narrow
tunnels toward the cave of the dragon.



    Whew! The way hadn't been this tight when she was a lass. The
gussets that her village blacksmith had had to put up each side of her
chainmail jerkin were put to the test in the last few yards before she
reached Litfusia's cave. No way to deny it: she wasn't the sylph she'd
been. She had already had to abandon her bronze breastplate at the
last turning. Mev tossed her torch out before her and left her pack
behind in the last wide bend. With a mighty wriggle, she emerged in
a low stone chamber like an anteroom. On the other side of a crack in
the stone was the hoard, and somewhere in its midst, the amulet. She
guessed it had taken her three or four hours to make the climb. She
was out of breath. Her torch flared and guttered from the breeze
coming in Litfusia's front door. Mev hid it on the inside wall so its
flame couldn't be seen from the other room. She put her eye to the
opening.

    The air was warm, telling her the dragon was at home. Had
Litfusia eaten up the bait she had left out on the path, and come back
to sleep it off? Litfusia was there, all right, but not sleeping. Mev
spotted it under the mouth of the cavern that led out into the upper air.
The dragon was writhing around, bellowing and blowing streamers
of flame from its sharp-toothed jaws. Litfusia seemed to be fighting
with another, much smaller red dragon. The great white beasts rough
hide glowed like a moonstone.

   Good, Mev thought. It'll be too busy to deal with me. She crept
through the crack, onto the heap of treasure. Mev looked around her
in dismay. By the Raven God, why did tax collectors never visit
beasts? At the current high rate of tax in the kingdom, this lot would
have been reduced by 40% at least! It was going to take Mev forever
to sort through it. Litfusia's fight couldn't last much longer. It seemed
as though the white dragon was winning. The wee beast, less than a
tenth her size, was on the ground, flopping around limply. Mev stared
at it in disbelief. No! Litfusia wasn't fighting. She was giving birth.

   Mev had never thought of the beast as having a gender, let alone
that it was female. Dragons of both sexes were equally long-lived
and greedy. Female, she mused, as she turned back to the heap of
treasure. Think of that. Huh. Well, thank the gods for useful
distractions.

    While the dragon was busy, Mev set about looking for the amulet.
Folminade had given her a full description. She wanted a six-foot
staff with snakes wound around it and its name engraved on the collar
of the big, round, blue gem that was set on the top. That was surely
what had attracted the dragons attention in the first place. Litfusia
liked blue. No sapphire hoard or cobalt mine a thousand miles in any
direction was safe from its-her-marauding. Staying in the shadows,
Merv crept over piles of necklaces, goblets, heaps of gold and gems,
jewel-encrusted weapons that shifted under her or poked her as she
passed. What a load of garbage! Did the dragon collect just anything
because it was gold? She slid down a dune of treasure with a noise
like a thousand pans falling downhill. Thank gods the dragon was
making too much noise to hear her. Mev tripped over a thin shape that
for a moment filled her with hope. It turned out to be a herald's
trumpet. Why had Litfusia stolen a herald's trumpet, of all stupid
things? Not that Mev herself had any particular use for heralds; if
people didn't know your name, having someone blather it all over the
landscape wasn't really going to do much for your reputation. Maybe
the poor bugger had looked tasty. Mev gulped, hoping Litfusia
wouldn't fancy a middle-aged swordswoman.

    In a low dip, she came across a full suit of blue armor for a very
tall man. Mev was afraid to open the visor and see if the original
owner was still inside. The quantity of bones and partial skeletons
strewn about the cavern told her that plenty of unsuccessful
adventurers had essayed Litfusia's hoard since she'd been there.
Maybe she had had a run of beginner's luck the first time. Sweat ran
under the bronze cap on her head and dripped into her eyes and down
her neck. Her palms were wet and slippery under the heavy gloves.
For the first time, she felt pulled down by the effects of age and a less
energetic lifestyle than she'd led as a warrior. She must be careful.

    Mev heard a change in the sounds behind her. The dragon was
crooning and keening horribly, flames licking about her head. Had it
spotted her? She flung herself over the piles of treasure into a crevice
of the rough stone wall, pulled her cloak over herself, and huddled
down. Mev gasped for breath. She was more out of shape than she
had thought. Merely pulling a plowshare, chopping wood, and
hauling bags of grain was no substitute for real exercise. Mev vowed
to start a toning regimen the moment she got out of here. Time was
running away.

    The noises got more desperate. Mev moved aside a fold of cloak
to see what was happening.

   Litfusia was going crazy. She was crooning, bending her long
scaly neck down, then throwing it up in the air to keen. Her wings
flapped aimlessly, driving dust and ashes around the cavern. Her
pale hide had lost all its luster. Mev picked herself up just a little to
see the dragonet. It wasn't moving. There was no flame coming out of
its open mouth. It wasn't breathing. Litfusia was bending over it,
emitting soft cries of distress. What would Ricasso do in a case like
this? She could almost hear his voice saying, "Kill them both, while
you have the chance." But Mev couldn't do it.

    The red dragon chick lay still, and Litfusia was powerless to help
it. Mev felt something she never thought in a thousand lifetimes she
would feel for any dragon, and this one in particular: compassion.
The baby's pilot light hadn't lit. Mev knew a lot about dragons, and
had studied this species in particular before her first trip.
Firebreathers were born breathing fire. If they didn't flame in the first
few minutes after birth, they didn't make it.

   Litfusia kept trying to breathe into its mouth, but her flame was too
big. She'd toast the chick, it was so small. She was too panicky to
control herself. Mev felt sorry for the little one, and, in a sense of
perfectly reasonable self-preservation in a mind so clear it amazed
her, decided the last thing the kingdom needed was an insanely
bereaved mother dragon cannoning around the landscape. Mev
wriggled over the treasure heap and made for the tunnel where she
had left her torch.

    She came back with it in her hand, walking openly into the center
of the cavern. The noise alerted Litfusia, who was facing her way
when she emerged. The dragon pulled her head back, eyes wide, the
whiskers around its mouth standing out rigid. Mev's mouth dried with
fear as she stuck her chin out defiantly at her old enemy.

   "Yes, it's me, you old blowtorch," she croaked, her throat tight.
All her muscles ached, and her hand trembled disgracefully. "I've got
this. Your baby needs help." She tried to approach the unmoving
infant, but Litfusia put her head between it and Mev. The dragon shot
out a tongue of flame, and Mev jumped back. She glared.

   "Time's a wasting, you stupid mobile furnace! Move aside!" Mev
shouldered the huge head away, and jumped for the infant dragon
before Litfusia could try to flame her again. She knelt beside the body
and took the small head in her right hand, prying open the mouth with
her thumb. Dammit, but those little teeth were sharp! The
knuckle-long canine pricked right through her best gauntlet.

   Mev brought the torch close and tried to get the flame into the
small mouth. Even that weak fire was too big. She couldn't break the
ember apart, and there was no useful fuel in the cavern; Litfusia had
burned it all up over the years. Mev cast around for something
smaller. The trumpet! Perfect! As the dragon's head followed her like
a giant weathervane, she clambered back to get the long tube.

   The trumpet was a yard too long, but it was soft gold. With her
sword, she whacked off the bell and turned it up into the dragonet's
mouth like a funnel. She shoved the torch ember into the bell and
blew the flame down the infant's throat. Mev felt ridiculous,
breathing flame to save the life of a dragon. The Spider God would
have loved the irony. There was a hiccup and a smell like burning
leather, then a blast of flame roared out the trumpet's end. Hot! Mev
dropped the tube and waved her fingers to cool them. The infant
dragon opened its eyes. They were yellow-gold, like amber with the
sun behind it. They fixed on her, and the chick trilled adoringly.

   With an indignant howl that sounded like jealousy, the big dragon
pushed Mev away. Litfusia crooned over the wriggling infant like any
mother, picked up a clawful of meat from somewhere and dropped it
in front of the infant. The baby fell to hungrily, gurgling fire as it
cooked and ate its first meal. Mev, remembering the trumpet and the
suit of armor, wondered what the meat was, and felt a little sick.

   Litfusia suddenly remembered she was being observed. She
reared her head back again and glared fully at Mev. Nostrils
steaming, she took in a big lungful of air. Mev was outraged.

   "Oh, this is the thanks you give me, huh?" she said, planting her
hands on the hips of her chainmail jerkin. "I exposed myself, putting
myself in peril to save your baby. To hell with you, then." So it was
to be a battle. She reached for her sword hilt. Her skills were rusty.
She had no idea how she'd fare.

   Litfusia stopped, letting the smoke trickle out of both sides of her
mouth. The fire in her red eyes abated, as if she was taken aback. She
cocked her head at Mev, whimpering with frustration. She looked at
the baby, and back at the human female. Making a noise between a
gurgle and a roar, the dragonet had moved on to the second pile of
meat. It looked at Mev, too, its bright eyes fearless, knowing that its
mother would defend it from every nightmare monster that moved.
Chicks weren't that different from babies, Mev realized. And the
dragon knew it, too. Litfusia felt gratitude towards her, and had no
notion of how to handle such a concept. Mev wasn't certain, either.
She'd never had a monster in her debt before.

    "Wizard's amulet," Mev said, letting her hand drop. "Staff with
round gem on top. That's what I came for. I'll fight you for it if I have
to, but frankly, we're too old for that kind of thing, and you've got
better things to do."

  The dragon appeared to agree. Grudgingly, she arched her long,
white neck right over Mev's head and pointed into a corner the
warrior had had no time yet to search.

   "Thanks." Mev stood up, torch in hand. Something touched her leg.
The little red dragon was reaching for the brand. "Oh, all right." Mev
didn't need it. There was plenty of light to see by from the cave
mouth. She offered the torch to the chick, who chewed happily on the
ember. Litfusia made a dangerous sound in her throat. She was
jealous of Mev, something that made the human woman feel smug.

   She picked her way over the ground, surveying the treasure as she
went. A big armring rolled in front of her feet, and she reached down
for it. It was solid gold, studded with rubies. Not Litfusia's usual
style. Bugger Folminade's reward; she could get what she needed
right here. Mev started to put it in her pack. She heard a warning
growl from the dragon.

   "All right, all right," Mev said, dropping it like a guilty child.
"Can't blame me for trying." In a heap against the cavern wall, Mev
saw a finger of gold and knew at once she had found what she sought.
The crowning blue gem glittered as she took the staff. Mission
accomplished.

   "Thank you," Mev said, turning back to Litfusia. "You've got a
pretty chick, by the way."

    The head cocked again, as if to thank her. Then, it drew back on
its great neck. Litfusia took a huge, deep breath, and Mev knew the
truce was over. They were back to business as usual. She wasn't
about to argue. Flames were licking out of Litfusias nostrils, and
smoke was curling around her head. Mev didn't need it spelled out
any more obviously. She ran for her life.

   She turned and hurtled for the tunnel mouth. As she stumbled down
the piles of golden treasure, she heard the roar of flame. Mev felt
heat blast her from behind as she tumbled head first over the
threshold. Ow! Not again! As Mev scrambled back through the
narrow stone tube with the staff in her fist, she heard a deep, grunting
sound. Litfusia was laughing. Then Mev heard scaly feet rustling
away over the piles of coins, another mother going back to her baby.



   "Why did you spare the dragon?" Folminade wailed, when Mev
told him the story. He wrung his skinny hands together. "You could
have killed both of them! They were vulnerable."

   "You only hired me to get the staff," Mev pointed out, thrusting it
into his arms. She stood over him with her arms folded, and waited.
She couldn't have sat down if she'd wanted, not with the new burn on
her bottom, but she felt energized by accomplishing a successful
mission. "Dragons are extra. Lots extra."

    It wasn't strictly true, and they both knew it. He was aware of her
reputation, knew that the fierce Mev Grayshield had had no trouble
executing extracurricular kills for free in the past, but he hadn't been
up there. It had not been in her to attack the dragon or its chick. After
all, Litfusia had been a fellow female in trouble. She was sure the
dragon wouldn't have given her the same courtesy, but that was the
difference between humans and dragons. Part of the game. "My
reward, please."

    The wizard, grumbling, reached for the heavy leather bag at his
belt. He poured a small pile of coins onto a flat rock, less than a third
of the contents. "There you are."

   "Thank you," Mev said, and took the bag. Folminade started to
snatch it back, but Mev cleared her throat meaningfully. With a wary
look in her direction, he withdrew his hand. He'd be safer facing the
dragon than to be cheap with Mev. People like him really burned her
backside. Mev shifted, and the heavy chainmail jerkin rubbed
uncomfortably over her new scorches. Even more than Litfusia.

   "Quite," Folminade said, with resignation, picking up the
remaining coins. "My lord and lady thank you for your service."

   "Call me any time," Mev said, with an airy wave. "I'm back in
business." The wizard started off down the path toward the valley
with the precious amulet in his hands, shaking his head and muttering.
She grinned after him.

   Besides, she thought, as she tied the pouch to her pack, she could
think of her act of mercy as job security. Now that she'd ensured the
survival of the next generation of dragons, there would be a beast left
for her daughter to challenge one day. But Mev would definitely have
to warn Kitra to fireproof the backside of her armor.