Роберт Асприн - Forever After

“The losing side is always wrong,” Schmirnov said. “Especially since it’s the winners who have the privilege of defining good and evil.”

“But Kalaran…”

“Spare me.” The dragon sighed. “Just go and fetch Spotty and we’ll see what he has to say.”

“At once, Lord Dragon.”

The dwarf turned to go, then hesitated.

“Um… Lord Dragon?”

“Now what is it?”

“If I might suggest… in the interest of keeping this a peaceful meeting… it might be best if you refrained from calling him ‘Spotty.’ The nickname is due to the fact that he breaks out in pale blotches whenever danger threatens. It’s a trait that has saved us on numerous occasions, but he’s more than a little self-conscious about it.”

“A sensitive human,” the dragon muttered. “What will they think of next?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. Just fetch him… and I’ll try to remember your suggestion.”

Despite his suspicions, Schmirnov studied the figure the dwarf led back into his cavern with genuine curiosity. It was rare that he had an opportunity to study a human, particularly a warrior, at leisure. Traditionally, his encounters with them were brief, and what was left could not be examined without extensive reassembling.

Stiller was an impressive specimen… medium height, stocky build with massive arms and legs, all topped by a shaggy head of bronze-red hair. Fierce blue eyes met the dragon’s levelly and without fear, though, like his companion, the man’s belt and harness were notably lacking in weapons.

Schmirnov observed that, despite reassurances given, Stiller’s skin was, indeed, covered with the pale blotches of danger warning that gave the man his nickname.

Good. Maybe it would encourage Stiller to mind his manners during the interview.

Then, too, it raised an interesting point. Did the blotches forewarn actual danger, or only danger the man perceived? If the latter were the case, it didn’t seem the trait would be particularly helpful. If the former, then there was something about this meeting which could prove dangerous to the man despite the guarantees of safety. The dragon resolved anew to be on his guard.

“Are you Schmirnov?” the man demanded.

The reptile regarded him for a long moment, then slowly craned his neck around to sweep the cavern with his gaze.

“Do you see any other dragons around?” he said at last.

“Well… no.”

“Then it would be safe to assume that I am, indeed, Schmirnov, wouldn’t you say? Really, Stiller, if you’re going to indulge in redundant questions, this meeting could last through a change of seasons.”

The man started visibly at the mention of his name.

“I told you so.” Ibble murmured to him as an aside, which earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs.

“You know me?”

“Another redundant question.” The Dragon sighed. “As I told your little friend there, I know of you. You have a fairly sizable reputation… mostly from your habit of reducing the population, both human and non. You’re supposed to be quite good at it… if you take pride in that sort of thing.”

Stiller’s blotches paled as the skin beneath them flushed.

“I take pride in the fact that I have never drawn blood from anyone or anything that did not first mean harm to others,” he said angrily. “Unlike some here I could name.”

“ Stiller !” the dwarf hissed in warning, but the damage was already done.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Schmirnov growled.

“Warrior I may be,” Gulick announced, shaking off Ibble’s hand on his arm. “But I earned my reputation fighting against other arms bearers… aye, and a few creatures as well. It is not my way, however, to lay waste to entire villages or settlements, slaying fighter and non-combatant indiscriminately as is the habit of you and your kin. If it were, then I would not have the nerve to level accusations at those who set aside their normal prejudice to visit me in peace.”

The dragon regarded him levelly for a moment.

“I can see,” he said at last, “that if we are to have a civilized conversation, there will first have to be some air clearing between us. Consider this, warrior.”

Schmirnov paused slightly to organize his thoughts.

“If you had a home, one with good hunting and clean water, where you had dwelt contentedly most of your life, and that home was invaded by a new species which completely disrupted the lifestyle to which you had become accustomed, how would you react?”

“It would depend on the nature of the invader,” Stiller said stiffly.

“Fair enough.” The dragon nodded. “For the moment, envision them as a colony of wasps. Few at first, and easily ignored. They nest, however, and begin to multiply at an alarming rate. What’s worse, in their new numbers, they begin to drive out the game which is your normal livelihood. In fact, you often find yourself in direct competition with them for the same food sources. What would be your course of action?”

“I’d try to drive them out or eliminate them,” the man said, averting his eyes with the admission.

“Kill as many as you can, and burn their colonies.” Schmirnov smiled. “Probably killing both fighter wasps and noncombatant workers indiscriminately in the process. Right?”

Neither of his visitors replied.

“Now then, to continue our scenario,” the dragon said, “let us assume that, in your own mistaken feeling of superiority, you have waited too long. There are too many of the invaders to deal with effectively. Not only that, you find that, once aroused, they are capable of harming you… even killing you if skillful enough or in great enough numbers. With that knowledge comes the realization that you have lost. You and all your kind will be replaced by this new species… one you might have squashed if you had taken it seriously enough when it first appeared.”

Schmirnov’s voice changed, becoming tinged in bitterness as memories played their scenes once more on the stage of his mind.

“All you can do then is retreat. Find some out-of-the-way place so desolate that no one will contest you for it and wait for the end as gracefully as you can. The trouble is that these ‘wasps’ have memories. Memories and emotions. They recall the damage you have wreaked in the past, and begin to hunt you and the scattered remains of your land… whether for vengeance or to eliminate a threat which no longer truly exists.”

He shook his great head briefly.

“Some of my kind went mad from the pressure, launching fierce but hopeless attacks until they met the legend-inspiring deaths they sought. Others remain in hiding, and some, such as myself, have even reached a tenuous truce with small groups of humans. While I am genuinely grateful for the mutual tolerance, you’ll forgive me if my view of you humans remains less than admiring.”

The dragon lapsed into silence, which his visitors emulated, unable to think of anything to say.

Finally, Schmirnov heaved a great sigh and lowered his head in a slow bow.

“I fear, upon reflection, I owe you an apology. Both of you. You have come to me openly requesting a peaceful meeting, and, after granting you safe passage, I have received you with thinly veiled insults and threats. If nothing else, this violates the very spirit of hospitality, and I must beg your forgiveness. My only excuse is ill temper caused by prolonged isolation, if anything, I should welcome company, not drive it away.“

Gulick returned the bow.

“Your apology is accepted, but unnecessary, Lord Dragon,” he said. “Having now heard your side of the human-dragon conflict, I’ll confess that I am shamed by some of the things I have done or said in the past. However our meeting goes, you have given me much food for thought in the future. What’s more, you have my promise that I will pass it along to others that they might also reflect on this long-standing injustice. As to our reception, I am only grateful that it was as nonviolent as you promised. I fear you would not have been received half as graciously had you chosen to visit us at our own homes.”