Mickey Reichert - The lost Dragons of Barakhai

Falima wrung her hands. Clearly, she wanted to intervene, to keep Zylas out of harm's way. However, to do so would mean putting a lesser value on Collins' life.

"Can you guarantee that?" Although he knew better, Collins dared to hope.

Zylas' head glided back to its usual position. "Well, no, but… no one can ever…"

Collins forced a grin. "I was kidding."

"Oh. Well, then." Zylas' checks pulled across his muzzle into a ratty grin. It was a strange image, like a computer-animated commercial. "I'll do my best. I'm not going to run out on you."

Collins wondered if Zylas had actually used slang or if the spell simply translated it that way. Spell or stone or both, he reminded himself, only then recalling that he still had not pressed Zylas on the details of a question that had occurred to him way back in his own world. "So what happened to your translation stone?"

"I don't need it anymore." Zylas raised his head proudly.

Collins doubted the rat/man had suddenly learned all the languages of both worlds, along with every animal tongue. The spell Prinivere had cast on Collins interpreted only human languages, and they had told him the crystal Zylas always carried was unique. Collins jerked his gaze past the crates to where Prinivere once again rested with her eyes closed.

Zylas anticipated the question. "No, she can't cast a spell that works like my stone did. But she was able to remove the magic from its container and place it directly into me."

Collins saw the pros and cons of such a maneuver. It meant Zylas could never lose his precious artifact; but he also could not lend it out as he once had to Falima and Collins. And the magic died with him, an event that seemed inevitable given the power and reach of those who hunted him. Now in his forties, Zylas had given the royalty problems since his youth. On the other hand, the stone could no longer be taken from Zylas or lost by him, and not having to carry it left his hands and mouth free. Zylas' value to the cause became wholly clear to Collins for the first time: a wise, bold, honest, and determined man with near-perfect overlap and a means to communicate with anyone in any form. Falima's instincts were right. The renegades could not afford to lose Zylas. "I'll do it," he said, the words out of his mouth before he could consider them. "But I can't take you as my partner."

Zylas' mouth dropped open, revealing his little pink tongue, and his crimson eyes bulged with distress and affront. "Why not?"

"Because they need you." Collins made a gesture that encompassed the entire cave. From the corner of his vision, he thought he saw the sleeping dragon smile.

Zylas dismissed the argument. "We need you, too. And you don't have any stake in this. I'm best-suited for the job, and I go."

Collins could not argue. He and Zylas did work well together, though he had to correct one thing. "Oh, I do have a stake in this. I, too, have loved ones suffering by the curse and the king's decree."

Zylas' determined look went instantly blank. "You do?"

Even before he had broken up with a girlfriend with whom he had little in common, Collins had had few close friends. Aside from Korfius, his life had only grown more empty. "You, you dim-witted quadruped. I mean you." He turned his gaze to Falima. "And others, here, too."

This time an unmistakable smile stretched the old dragon's face.

WHILE Prinivere slept and recovered from her excursion, Zylas reminded Collins of a castle layout he still vividly remembered. The grand structure towered five stories, topped by a crenellated rooftop fitted with ballistae and patrolled by guards. The four corner towers stretched another ten feet toward the sky, and Collins could not lose the memory of jumping from one of these, Zylas in his pocket, to a cart full of hay drawn hurriedly into place by goats secretly loyal to the renegades. The hay had barely cushioned his fall, and the cart had broken, leaving him a gashed and bloody mess with several broken bones and damaged internal organs. The basement held the dungeon, where Collins had spent a restless day and night while the castle staff waited for him to take a switch-form. The basement also reportedly contained food and wine cellars and storage rooms, though he had not seen them during his imprisonment.

The drawbridge across the moat led to two courtyards opening onto the ground floor, which held the kitchens and various workshops. Above those, the library and great dining hall were familiar to Collins. He had eaten a meal there and sneaked out, through the library, to search the uppermost floors. The third level reportedly held the servants' quarters. The guards slept in barracks, stables, and kennels in the inner courtyard. The superiors all had horse switch-forms, and the subordinates turned into dogs. In fact, Zylas had coopted Falima from a city guard force, and they had captured Korfius from that same force to keep him quiet after he found them on a hunt.

At some point during Zylas' description, Collins drifted into sleep. He came awake suddenly to find himself slumped over one of the wooden chests, his arm sticky with his own drool. Now in man form, Zylas conversed in soft tones with Prinivere, his voice an indecipherable rumble and hers, as usual, wholly inaudible. At the end of the chest, Ijidan gnawed at a piece of orange fruit clutched between his paws while Korfius watched curiously from the ground. A short, heavyset woman prepared a dining table on one of the other chests. He saw no sign of Falima.

Collins rubbed the sleep seeds from his eyes, wondering how long he had slept. He still felt sluggish, though time would tell if that came of recently awakening or honest tiredness. From habit, he glanced at his watch, which read 10:42 and could not be right. For Zylas to have switched, it had to be after noon. He had missed his chance to set the time by Zylas' change, as he had done on his last visit. The modicum of light that found its way through the heavy curtain of vines told him little. "How long was I out for?" he asked with a yawn.

All of his companions glanced at him, but only Zylas answered. "Long enough to miss three people's switches."

Though self-evident and riot the information Collins had wanted, he did not press for more. The spell awkwardly translated their time system into units comprehensible to him, but he doubted they measured it the same way. Hours seemed to be the same length, as all the switch times he knew about occurred on an exact o'clock so long as he set his watch by one of them. The Barakhains just seemed more naturally in tune with time and its passage, not needing artificial conveyances, perhaps because they had to gauge more accurately. It would not do, for example, for Ijidan to become a man while clinging upside down chattering from some sky-high, finger-thin branch. "Yes, I see that. I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Zylas easily forgave the lapse, though he suffered most from the rudeness. "It means you're no longer upset, you're comfortable, and you've got the rest you need for the mission."

Comfortable was hardly the word Collins would have used, though he did not contradict. With a shrug that neither acknowledged nor disputed Zylas' claim, he headed toward the albino. Middle age coarsened features that had probably once been handsome. His ever present broad-brimmed hat shielded the almost-colorless blue eyes and skin wholly lacking pigment. Thin, white hair fell to his shoulders, perfectly matching the nearly invisible eyebrows and lashes.

"Lunch time," the woman at the chest called suddenly, her voice shrill.

Collins turned to see four plates piled with objects he could not yet identify. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he had missed breakfast. Graciously, he gestured at the dragon. "My lady?" *You go ahead, please,* Prinivere sent.*I'd rather wait a few hours and fill up in human form. It doesn't take as much.*