Mickey Reichert: The lost Dragons of Barakhai

"Hide," Collins hissed at Zylas; who, accustomed to doing just that, disappeared in an instant. Without bothering to give a similar command to Falima, he headed toward the door, just as another fusillade of knocking exploded through the room. Loud as thunder, it left no doubt about the mood of the person on the other side.

Collins pulled open the door, only then remembering he wore nothing but boxers.

Professor Terellin studied him from the hallway, and several people peeked from partially open doors on either side. The proctor of Collins' building, the gray-bearded philosophy professor usually handled problems in a calm, rational manner that left little room for discussion. Now, his hair hung in a lopsided auburn-and-white scraggle, rather than its usual neat comb over. Long-legged, slender, and distinguished, Terellin reminded Collins of John Cleese playing the barrister in A Fish Called Wanda. He glanced around the hallway, and the doors hurriedly shut. "May I come in?"

Collins stepped back. "Of course, Professor."

Terellin glided inside, closing the door behind him. He studied Collins in the dim light, then turned his gaze to Korfius who lay in a stretched-out position of doggy comfort on Collins' rumpled bed. The man cleared his throat. "We ignore your dog, Mr. Collins, despite the no pet policy, because he's a hero."

Collins nodded, well aware of that information. He had never taken great pains to hide the animal, though he did not go out of his way to flaunt the dog either. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"But a horse, Mr. Collins?" The professor made a bland gesture toward the window. "That's going too far."

Collins' heart rate quickened, and he followed the professor's motion with his gaze. Possibilities paraded through his mind, the most compelling to deny knowing anything about Falima's presence. He discarded the urge, however. For her welfare, he could not abdicate responsibility. "Yes, Professor Terellin. I agree."

The man grunted.

"You see, we need the horse for physiology experiments and… "So far, the explanation sounded plausible, and Collins struggled to keep it that way. "… and I… well, I did the ordering. I certainly didn't expect them to deliver her to my home but" Collins battled through the sleepiness that dimmed his thoughts. " well, here she is. I jumped right out of bed and started making some calls, but it's hard to get anyone to answer this time of night."

Professor Terellin's expression softened immediately. "Any luck at all?"

Collins rubbed a hand along his other naked arm, a nervous gesture. "I found a stable that'll take her." He deliberately avoided saying where in case anyone checked the story. "I just have to get her there." He gestured to his backpack. "I was just getting ready for the trip."

"And dressing?" Terellin suggested.

Collins blushed. He wore boxers to bed rather than his usual briefs out of modesty, but it was still underwear. "Just getting to that, sir."

A bit of testiness returned to the professor's demeanor. "Well, hurry, please, Mr. Collins. I don't want to have to explain this to the board. Or to the next fifteen people who want to know why they can't keep a finch but I'll let you turn the quadrangle into a barn. What's next? Pigs?"

Collins tried a joke, though he was too nervous to make it a good one. "We've got some of the guinea variety at the lab."

"No, thank you." The philosophy professor turned on his heel. "Just get that horse out of here."

"Right away," Collins promised.

The professor glanced back over his shoulder. "Do you want me to let your department know you won't be in today?"

Collins considered, imagining the philosophy professor delivering his cockamamie story to his crusty biology preceptor. The explanations that followed would probably turn wilder, enveloping him in an inescapable twist of increasingly outrageous lies. Ultimately, he would have to come up with a logical experiment involving horses or lose his fellowship. "Thank you, sir, but I'll do it by e-mail."

"All right," Terellin said. "You just get that smelly animal out of here ASAP."

"Consider it done." This time, the professor crossed the room and exited into the hallway without looking back. When the door clicked shut, Collins sank down on the bed, feeling as tired as if he had jogged three miles. A furry muzzle jostled his hand, and he reached down to pet Korfius, only to realize the dog lay sleeping beside him. He opened his eyes to Zylas.

"You're quick with words," the rat said.

"A quick liar," Collins grumbled. "Something to write home about."

"So long as it's for the right reasons."

Collins simply shrugged. It was not the way his parents had raised him. The same parents who pretended to love one another throughout my childhood, then divorced and forgot all about me as soon as I left home. He realized they might not serve as stellar examples either.

Apparently sensing Collins' continued consternation, Zylas elaborated. "So long as you don't start equating whatever you want to 'right,' you don't have a problem."

Collins looked at the albino rat, who returned his stare, whiskers twitching earnestly. Deceive the philosophy professor, then talk philosophy with vermin. Mobilized, he rose, throwing up his hands at the whole ludicrous idea. "I'm getting dressed."

Collins pawed through his clothing, emerging with a green pocket tee, comfortable jeans, gym socks, and a clean pair of briefs. Turning his back to the window and Falima, he removed his sleeping boxers, then pulled on his briefs and last night's jeans. He shook out the T-shirt. "This warm enough for the weather there?" He did not worry about his packed clothing. Barring a sudden attack of insanity, he would not be staying in Barakhai long.

Zylas bobbed his head. "Though you might want something with sleeves in the woods. For protection."

"For protection?" Collins knew Zylas meant from weeds, branches, and bugs, but he could not help adding, "What I really need for protection is Kevlar."

"Kevlar?" Zylas repeated.

"Never mind." Collins finished dressing, then pulled on his running shoes without bothering to untie them. He tossed the backpack across his left shoulder. "Let's go."

Zylas sprang to Collins' shoulder. Falima whinnied, and Collins cringed. He whistled sharply. "Come on, Korfius."

The dog leaped to immediate attention, then sprang from the bed to caper merrily at Collins' feet. Usually, the dog did not get to accompany him in the morning, when he attended classes. Collins reached for the knob, then froze in mid-movement. "I'd better send that e-mail. And I'll need something to lead Falima with."

"Not necessary," Zylas said in his ear. "We can ride her."

Without a saddle or bridle? Like that wouldn't raise any more suspicions. Collins snapped on the power-strip switch, then scanned the room for something ropelike while his Gateway EV70 and its accompanying paraphernalia ran through their opening sequence. "I know that. But no one's going to believe my story if I hop up on a strange horse without anything to control it and don't worry about getting bucked to China." As his gaze fell across the familiar sparse furnishings, he mentally discarded using electrical cords, rubber bands, and duct tape. His desk filled one corner of the room, most of its surface taken up by the computer with its screen, speakers, CPU, and his Hewlett-Packard LaserJet printer perched upon the familiar, black and white cow-spotted box that had contained the shipped computer. An empty coffee can held pens, pencils, and markers and his assorted hard rock tapes and CDs. On the shelf above sat the combination CD player/double tape deck/radio that played them. Beside the desk, the television offered him nothing. He considered twisting up the bed-sheets or rifling the dresser to find some clothing to sacrifice to the cause.