by Pirateaba
“Why wouldn’t you want everyone to know of your nature? I’ve heard Dragons once advised philosopher-kings of old. Why not spread word of your identity far and wide?”
He scowls.
“That tends to lead to noisy adventurers with swords tromping around my cave. And armies, eventually. I think not.”
“Well, what about a few people? Lady Magnolia clearly knows about you. Isn’t it beneficial to have a few beings to talk to—people who can help you out?”
“Perhaps…but I am seldom in need of assistance.”
“I just delivered a letter for you.”
“Slowly, and at great cost. You had to come back for directions.”
Teriarch harrumphs and the wind makes my hair ruffle. Smelling his breath is like sticking my head into a train engine and inhaling.
“If it were addressed to any other person, I would have no issue in using magic to facilitate any communication I needed. Moreover, I can fly.”
He spreads his wings, and I eye the thick membrane connecting the wings. Interesting. They’re definitely proportional to his body mass, but there must be some magic to them or else he’s never getting off the ground with just his muscular strength. I shrug and glance towards the image of Erin and Octavia again.
What are they doing now? Erin’s tossing stuff in a…pot? Yes, she’s got a pot over a stove and she’s pouring a potion into it, and a bunch of carrots. Octavia looks like she’s swallowed her thumb. What are they doing?
Focus on the annoyed Dragon.
“Uh, right. Well, even if that’s the case, what if you have to send another letter to Az’kerash? And my abilities aren’t just limited to running. I did know several riddles which intrigued you.”
He grunts and shifts his position awkwardly on the stone floor.
“You are hardly a font of endless knowledge. Or are you implying you know all the secrets of your world?”
“Not all of them, but I know quite a bit.”
“Oh, really?”
The skepticism in his voice makes me frown at him.
“I have a good memory and I was considered to be an excellent student in my world. I know more about mathematics, biology, and the way my world works better than almost anyone else my age.”
That’s fairly accurate, although ‘excellent student’ is definitely stretching it. But Teriarch seems determined to be obstinate. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and flicks out his tongue before he comes up with something.
“Ah, but Reinhart has acquired several children like you. They all hail from your world; what is to stop me from questioning them.”
This time I snort out loud. Teriarch looks more surprised than affronted.
“What?”
“You think you can get any decent information out of a bunch of high schoolers? If they know a tenth of what I do, I’ll eat Magnolia’s maid.”
There it is again. I see him smile!
“You are prideful.”
“Shouldn’t I be?”
He grins at my challenging tone.
“Pride is something which all thinking beings have. But it can be true or illusory. Is yours the kind that would shatter if put to the test?”
He flicks one wing dismissively.
“Regardless, your knowledge may be useful, but what use have I of it? I am no Elf or Gnome to be constantly intrigued by new discoveries and knowledge. I know the secrets of magic and the true nature of this world. I know the names of ancient secrets and treasures long buried. I command storms and flame. What do you have to offer than I don’t already have?”
“Breath mints?”
The Dragon’s eyes bulge. I grin at him, wild and slightly-unhinged on my part. I can’t help it. He’s being competitive and I have to take him down a peg.
“You may be a high and mighty Dragon, but I have seen things just as amazing as you are. Tell me, how fast can you fly? Can you break the barrier of sound? How high can you fly? Can you fly to the moon? Humans have done both these things; if we can do it, doesn’t that make us better than you in some way?”
I’m smirking a bit at him, but to my surprise, Teriarch’s lips quirk and he gives me a smile of his own. It wipes mine clean off my face.
“I have not flown to the moon, but I can break the air into pieces. And you are not the only species to reach such heights. Both Gnomes and Elves have walked upon the twin moons in the sky.”
“What?”
No way. But Teriarch is giving me another smug look. That’s impossible, but then—we did it, didn’t we? If you had the right knowhow and spells—
“Well, I suppose that just means Humans, Elves, and Gnomes are all better than Dragons in some way, aren’t we?”
This time Teriarch’s glare is accompanied by a wing flap. The gust of air makes me stumble. I regain my footing and see him smile.
“My apologies. But I believe this discussion has run its course. I do not engage in pointless debate that serves no higher purpose.”
“Coward.”
“What was that?”
I eye Teriarch’s teeth as he bares them ever so slightly.
“Nothing.”
“Indeed. And our…argument arose from one point. You do not wish me to erase your memory. I wish to do so. And I am the one with the authority to decide.”
That’s it, isn’t it? I bite my lip, but I can’t really argue with that. Instead, I sigh.
“Well, you’re right about that.”
Teriarch pauses as he draws himself up, towering over me.
“That’s it? No pleading? No begging?”
“Not my thing. If you’ve made up your mind to do it, I can’t stop you. I just think it’s a shame, that’s all.”
“Well, all beings desire to know all they can. You will not lose much, Ryoka Griffin. Just a few moments.”
He speaks a word, and I feel my bones humming. I stare up at him. He stares down at me, like some kind of ancient god. And because I can’t ever let anyone have the last word, I speak.
“Nothing? Really? A few moments are worth more than that. A moment is enough time to die. A few can be…everything. More than that. ‘A world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower. Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour.’”
I see a Dragon’s eyes widen. Yes, I’m not over it. He’s still a Dragon. So I say that too. A bit of honesty before oblivion.
“Today I met a Dragon. You. And it was amazing. Indescribable. I’m not a poet, and I can’t find the words to even describe the magnitude of what I’ve glimpsed. I just think it’s a shame that I will forget something as timeless as that. In truth, I almost can’t believe that any spell could wipe that kind of experience from my mind. So if you’re going to do it, go ahead. But if you can really take away that moment from me without changing who I am, go ahead.”
I stare up at him and wait, trying to memorize every detail of his face, every part of this moment. But Teriarch hesitates.
“Were those your words, Human?”
“No. A poet wrote them. A Human poet.”
“I see. But what you said about me—do you truly find me that magnificent?”
“Yes. Don’t they have stories about Dragons in your world? They do in mine. You—your people are one of the most iconic images in my world. When people think of fantasy—of swords and sorcery and adventures, they think of Dragons.”
Now two eyes are staring at me. I shudder. Why does it feel as though he can stare into my soul? Maybe it’s the difference in age between us.
But I’m not lying. For once, I’m telling the truth. Compliments and flattery are mixed in, yes, but this is the truth. I can remember reading of dragons as a girl. I can remember the awe of imagining one. And reality did not disappoint.
“I grew up reading stories of dragons hoarding their gold, or fighting knights in battle. A dragon. Terrifying, yes, dangerous, yes, but for every Human in my world, when we dream of magic, we think of your kind.”
“Really? Truly?
”
It’s as if he’s hanging on my every word, suddenly. And I have a thought: maybe he’s just as eager to know he matters as I am.
I nod. My heart is pounding.
“We know of you, even if all we know are stories. Remember that, Teriarch.”
For a second, I think he’ll zap me anyways. But the Dragon doesn’t. He closes his eyes.
“Myths. Legends. That is what my kind has become. But if I left your memories intact—”
“If you do, I will tell no one else. I swear.”
Another look. Longer, this time. Then Teriarch turns back to the image of Octavia and Erin floating by his head. I focus on it and realize something’s happened. Both of them are running around and if I had audio, I’m sure I’d hear them screaming. A thick purple vapor pouring out of one pot seems to be the reason. Even as I watch, something melts through the pot as Octavia tosses a white potion into the pot and something explodes into a cloud of white powder.
“Neutralizing potion. At least the [Alchemist] knows to take proper safety precautions. They should have mixed the carrots with a cold agent – even ice would have worked – before mixing in the Corusdeer horns. Of course, they would need a stronger coating. Flour, perhaps.”
Teriarch mutters that as he somehow manipulates the image and sends it down closer to me. I stare at the pot.
“Did you notice all that while we were talking?”
“Of course. We Dragons are quite capable of such feats. Compared to flying and breathing flame while casting a spell, this is trivial.”
He smiles, and suddenly it seems like Teriarch is…tired. I look up at him and feel as if he’s suddenly ancient. Or acting ancient, rather.
“I will send you to your friend. With memory intact.”
“Really?”
I can’t believe it. I wouldn’t have changed my mind with my weak arguments. But Teriarch just nods. He looks so old, now. Was it something I said?
“I will send you back. Do not move, and the process will be smooth. I will be certain of the altitude this time.”
He smiles. And something about him makes me a bit annoyed. First he’s intimidating, and then he’s tired. I want—I have the urge to say something. Here I am in the center of a cave full of treasures.
I turn around and stare at the thousands of things on display. A literal Dragon’s hoard. And the Dragon himself, muttering in his deep voice high above me. I can’t let it end like this. I should do something. I—
Inspiration, crazy, Erin-level inspiration hits me. I look back at Teriarch.
“Ahem. Before I go, can I uh, interest you in an offer?”
He cracks one eye open and frowns at me.
“I am concentrating. Teleportation spells are not easy even for me. What offer?”
How would Erin pitch this? I try my best.
“Would you…consider donating one of your magical items to the uh, GRF?”
“The GRF?”
“The Gnollish Relief Fund.”
That sounds so stupid. It’s perfect. Exactly the kind of thing Erin would say! Teriarch just gives me a blank look.
“Let me explain. I uh, happen to be trying to help out a Gnoll tribe.”
I try to explain as best I can the mess that Erin and I got ourselves into. Krshia’s tribe, the Silverfang tribe, and how they lost all their spellbooks they were trying to bring to their all-important Gnoll summit. Teriarch nods as I finish.
“I am aware of Gnollish traditions. That is a fine one; of course, they used to meet only once every hundred years, and then every fifty years. Then it was twenty years, but I suppose the tribes need to stay connected in this day and age.”
He sniffs; he doesn’t like to alter tradition, I guess.
“But what does this have to do with me?”
“Well…you have a lot of magical items. Would you consider giving one to the Silverfang tribe? A spellbook, for instance?”
He just stares at me. Yup. Definitely an Erin idea. But she could pitch it in a plausible way. Me—
“Why would I even consider something so…ridiculous? Why would I ever give up my possessions for free?”
“Ah, but it wouldn’t be free.”
“Go on.”
Yeah, go on, Ryoka. Tell him why it’s not free*.
*Shut up, me.
“Well, just consider the benefits. You would have a Gnoll tribe in your debt. I would be very clear that it’s you – the great [Archmage] Teriarch – they owe their great gift to.”
“A single Gnoll tribe could do little for me.”
“Yes…but your name would be venerated among their tribe. You would have a little bit of immortality among them. A bit more, should I say? You would be a patron of their tribe.”
“Hmm. Intriguing.”
Teriarch seems pleased by the idea of being honored. Then he frowns.
“Why a spellbook, though? I had no notion that the Gnolls were interested in magic as mages practice it. Their shamans use tribal magic quite well.”
“Well…I think it’s an experiment.”
Another frown.
“An experiment?”
When I explain the longstanding grudge the Gnolls have over learning magic at Wistram, Teriarch really looks confused.
“Why wouldn’t they be able to learn magic? The mages of Wistram are no fools—at least, they were not two hundred years ago. Why would they expel the apprentice sent to them?”
I stare at Teriarch. Did he just imply…?
“Wait—you’re saying Gnolls can learn magic? But the mages didn’t think it was possible.”
The Dragon shakes his head in exasperation.
“Of course the Gnolls can learn magic. Some races are more adept, but they are hardly mindless Antinium or magic nulls. Why would Wistram not…? That is very, very odd.”
Oh wow. Another secret for Krshia. My heart beats faster.
“Well, this is the Silverfang’s great gift to the other tribes. So if you gave them spellbooks—say, uh, fifty of them—”
“Fifty spellbooks?”
Teriarch rears up. He stares at me.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
I spread my hands, a bit outraged. I look around his cavern and point to a bookshelf.
“There! Aren’t those all magical tomes? You’ve got at least three bookcases in that one spot. Fifty spellbooks—hell, even ten would be—”
“No. That is unthinkable.”
“Why not?”
“Because they are mine.”
Teriarch’s tone is as flat as the glare he gives me. His tail snakes out and curls around the bookshelves I pointed to, as if he’s afraid I might grab them and run off.
“Oh come on. Don’t be stingy.”
“This is mine. I will not just give away what I have collected for nothing.”
Great. The one thing all the stories had to get right was that Dragons are greedy and possessive as hell. I sigh and rake my hair.
“Then—what if you copied a spellbook? Can you do that? With magic, I mean?”
“Of course I can copy a spellbook. I can write however many I wish. But the process requires expensive ingredients and time which I will not waste.”
Teriarch shakes his head at me. But I’m still going for it.
“One spellbook, then. How about just one?”
I think Krshia needs at least one—probably ten. I could get another one if I used all the gold I just received, according to Ceria, but if I can get one—
“I have many spellbooks in my possession, some of which are indeed useful even to the most meager spellcasters. But I will not part with any of them.”
“Why not? You don’t need them. And you clearly have more wealth than you need. Why not give them away?”
“Because they are mine.”
The same response. Teriarch’s eyes glitter. His head snakes down towards me and I shiver when he stares at me with his heliotrope eye. Avarice. Okay, so he’s an old man who likes
collecting things. Gotcha.
“The Gnolls need a spellbook, Teriarch. Don’t you have a bunch of—inferior copies you could part with?”
“None of the books in my collection are remotely inferior.”
“Damn. So they all have high-tier spells written in them?”
Teriarch looks confused.
“High-tier…? Oh, your little magical organizational system. No; on the contrary. Many of my books contain lower-class spells. But they are of a higher quality in terms of content and accessibility for those studying them.”
I only partly understand what he’s saying. Teriarch notices my blank look and sighs.
“I suppose Gnolls would know as little as you do. In truth, the Silverfang tribe’s gift would be problematic in any case. If they truly bought over forty spellbooks, I imagine they would have proven quite redundant given the commonality of low-level spells. Moreover if they were cheap enough that a single spell could destroy them, they were probably personal references rather than a proper instructional tome.”
If I had ears that could perk up like Mrsha’s…
“Tomes? You mean there are different kinds of spellbooks?”
Teriarch gives me an arch look as I try to look innocent. Play the idiot. Or maybe not the idiot, but the naïve pupil. He does seem to enjoy talking.
“Of course. Have you truly not heard…well, you are no mage. Not all spellbooks are simply repositories of spells. Some are written to teach magic to those who struggle. Let me show you an example.”
He turns and bends down to the bookcase his tail was wrapped around. I can’t tell how he reads the little letters as far away as his eyes are, but then a book floats out of the bookcase and flies at me.
It’s huge. I nearly flinch as a tome half as tall as I am and nearly as wide hovers before my face. It looks like the ancestor of all books, and the front is bound in red leather embossed with gold and what looks like melted gemstones that form words I can’t read.
“Behold. A first-edition tome of Rihal. Three hundred years old and in perfect condition.”
“How do you lift that thing? Were the people of Rihal giants?”
“Hardly. It is a magical tome. It can be lifted by a child if need be.”
All at once the tome drops out of the air. I grab at it and overbalance as I find that the massive book weighs less than a pebble. It sits in my hand, as I gape at it. Teriarch grins, and the book floats back up.
