by Alma Boykin
The mammal stood, laying a hand on the soft, scaly shoulder. “It is enough. House Ni Drako will give two hundred credits, five sacks of grain and twenty pounds of forged iron as your mate gift, Greykin.”
Rada and Zabet smothered their laughter at the Azdhag female’s astonished expression. Her jaw sagged open and her tail went absolutely rigid with surprise at Ni Drako’s generosity. “I, I, my Lord Mammal! That’s, thank you! Oh thank you!” and she bowed to the floor.
“You are very welcome, Greykin. You more than earned it, a decade ago. You and your mate have my best wishes for a bright and peaceful future. You may go and tell your foster-sire my words.” The reptile bowed again, almost scraping the floor, and backed away. “Greykin, who is your foster-sire?” Rada asked, getting ready to make the payment.
“Huntmaster Bala, Lord Mammal.”
“Thank you. You may go,” and Rada waited until the door shut before sitting back down and smiling. “Well, something good came out of that nightmare,” she told Zabet.
<
“I never realized,” Rada admitted, scratching her boss’s ears.
The True-dragon swished her tail. <
“If he’s anything like his foster father, I’ll have an excellent second in command in a few decades,” Rada chuckled. “Or have my hands full.” And so it was.
