Mickey Reichert - The lost Dragons of Barakhai

"Falima doesn't need to be led." Zylas' whiskers tickled Collins' ear. "She'll come along."

Focused on the rope hunt, Collins jumped at Zylas' voice. "True, but it'll look really weird if a horse follows me around like a puppy."

The speakers blared out the six beats of music that indicated the computer's readiness. Collins leaned over his chair, grasped the mouse, and clicked on the internet icon. The hourglass appeared, the icon darkened, and the globe whirled in the upper right-hand corner. Finally deciding he might have some rope in the kitchen junk drawer, Collins started to head back in that direction. A roll of speaker cord caught his eye as he moved, and he grabbed it instead.

The high-pitched dialing notes rang from the speakers, followed by the intermittent static and up-and-down resonances of the connection.

"What's wrong with looking weird?" Zylas stared at the computer.

Collins seized the coated wire, then returned to the keyboard. "Nothing, if you're a total geek, I guess. Mostly, I don't want people asking a bunch of questions. If I start blathering on about other worlds and animals who turn into people, I'll wind up locked in a loony bin like that first guy you lured to Barakhai." Dropping the coil into his pocket, he tapped out a quick, vague e-mail about a family emergency, clicked off-line, and initiated shutdown. "People already think I'm too tight with my dog. Imagine what they'll think if a horse just-" Abrupt realization bombarded him. "-or if I've got a rat hanging out on my shoulder!" He patted himself down for a suitable pocket and realized that the one in his T-shirt would prove way too flimsy and small and the ones in his jeans seemed equally unsuitable, mostly for anatomical reasons. Collins found himself wishing for the loose, coarse weave of Barakhain clothing. "You'll have to go in the pack."

"Great," Zylas muttered with a discontented sigh. Nevertheless, he did as Collins bade.

Only then, Collins thought to mention, "Hey, you're talking to me without your translation stone."

The pack muffled Zylas' reply. "I am."

Collins had believed the rest of the question was implied; hut, when Zylas did not go on, he asked, "How?"

"Prinivere."

The response confused Collins, but he did not press Zylas for more information now. He would have the opportunity to ask all of his questions when he no longer had to worry about getting a horse out of the quad before anyone else saw her.

When the monitor went blank, Collins flicked the power switch. Walking to the door of his apartment, he opened it and stepped into a hallway empty except for the other doors and Professor Terellin who waited with his arms folded impatiently over his chest.

"Sorry." Collins flushed. "Had to send that e-mail and pack a few things."

The professor bobbed his head without speaking.

Collins hurried down the hallway and out the back door into the quadrangle, and Korfius followed. The false dawn painted red shadows across the benches spotted randomly around the central garden. Pathways crisscrossed the courtyard, leading to a dormitory, the English Building, and the Student Union. Falima still stood peering into his window.

"Horse," Collins whispered, not wanting to use her name for fear of exposing his lies.

Falima's head jerked upward, then tipped sideways as she searched for him.

"Over here, Horse."

Falima found Collins with one eye, then trumpeted out a welcoming whinny.

Cringing, Collins took out the speaker wire and unwrapped a length.

Falima ran to him with a speed that seemed unstoppable. Collins back-stepped and pressed against the building, but need not have worried. The horse came to an abrupt halt in front of him, prancing and snorting in greeting.

Collins wrapped the soft, pliable wire in a loop around Falima's neck, guiding her away from the quadrangle, around the graduate student housing building, to the main walkway through the campus. Surreptitiously, he looked for droppings and noticed none. He did not know whether doing so might insult his friends, but be could not afford to leave such an obvious telltale. He could imagine the students trying to puzzle out a huge animal flop appearing in the quadrangle in the middle of the night. At the least, they would be watching for a major prank; at the worse, it would spark the very protest about pets that Professor Terellin wanted to avoid. I can't have a gerbil, but you let someone walk their cow?

The cord proved as unnecessary as Zylas had claimed, but Collins continued the charade. The other professors and students already marveled at the close bond he shared with the dog who had run for help while he lay, seriously wounded, on the laboratory floor. Collins' sudden ability to speak every human language had confounded his doctors, who had plied him with CT scans and MRIs, none of which had revealed anything abnormal. Apparently, magic doesn't show up on X-ray. One more eccentricity would likely push him over the edge from a curiosity to an object of aversion. Students tended to tolerate diversity, so long as it had a logical and rational basis.

Collins continued through the dark toward Daubert Laboratories, willing the hulking buildings to pass by more swiftly. The walk seemed longer than usual, the sidewalk harder, the buildings less friendly. It all passed in a dim blur of light and shadow that little resembled the cheery, student-filled pathways of Algary's days and evenings. The clop of Falima's hooves echoed strangely between the buildings.

A security guard approached, gave a habitual cheery wave, then stopped short. He waited for Collins to reach him.

Though tempted to veer away, Collins kept to the concrete walkway. Anything else would appear suspicious. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning." The stout, dour-faced guard studied the horse. "Interesting companions you have there."

"It's a horse." Collins stated the obvious, so as not to appear to be hiding anything. As if I could stuff a horse under my shirt. He followed the security guard's gaze with his own, only to notice a red eye peering through the inky curtain of Falima's mane. Damn it, Zylas, I told you to stay in the pack. Suddenly, Collins realized the man had said companions, plural. Did he see Zylas? He tried to come up with a plausible explanation for a lab rat crawling freely over an unperturbed horse.

"Arid a dog," the guard added, as if in answer to Collins' concerns. His attention turned to the patchy hound, whose tail flopped back and forth like an overwound pendulum.

"The dog's mine. Name's Korfius."

The guard's gaze returned to the horse.

Glowering at Zylas, Collins answered the unspoken question. "I'm taking her to the lab." This time, he spoke the truth, though he made no attempt to avoid the implication that he intended to use her in experiments.

The guard grunted. "You wouldn't be planning some sort of practical joke, now, would you, kid?"

Collins gave the only answer anyone would, whether or not he intended such a thing. "No."

"Can I sec your ID?"

Collins didn't fight, seeing no reason to prolong the encounter with argument. Preferring the guard's focus to remain on him rather than the animals, he took his wallet from his pocket and presented his graduate student identification card.

The guard took it from him. '-'Collins," he murmured. "Benton Collins." He handed it back to Collins. "Now why does that sound familiar?"

Collins replaced the card and his wallet. "I'm the one who got heat up in the lab a year and a half ago at Thanksgiving."

The guard snapped his fingers. "Right. We took a lot of flak for that."

Collins said nothing. Surely, the man would not blame him for being the victim of an apparent assault.

Again, the man looked at Korfius. "So this must be the critter who saved you."