Realms of the Dragons vol.1

BEER WITH A FAT DRAGON

Late Tarsakh, the Year of Rogue Dragons

The caravan moved slowly down the dusty slope and into the oasis, the sinking sun at the riders' backs throwing long shadows across scrub trees and coarse grass. Tuigan women watched the riders from benches outside round, felt-covered yurts while children raced about in the fading heat of the day, running alongside the caravan's horses, pack mules, and ox carts. A few of the caravan travelers laughed and threw trinkets to the boldest children, but Tycho Arisaenn threw smiles toward the watching women. Especially the pretty ones.

A young woman with a delicately squared face and the rich bronze complexion of the steppe tribes gave him a smile and lingering glance in return. As the caravan coiled to a stop beside one of the stones that marked the long route of the Golden Way east across the Endless Wastes, Tycho grinned at his companion.

"Only the women at home, Li!" he crowed. "The men must be out raiding!"

"It's strange they wouldn't leave some men behind to guard the oasis." Kuang Li Chien tilted back the broad straw hat that had shaded him from the searing sun and scanned the oasis. His face darkened. "Mother of dogs," he muttered. "I know where we are. I remember this place from my journey west."

Tycho followed his gaze. Beyond the yurts of the Tuigan, an enormous pavilion sprawled on the edge of the muddy pond that was the oasis's heart. A large figure-a man as fat as any Tycho had ever seen-was just emerging from the door flap, one thick arm raised in greeting.

"Well met, thirsty travelers," he bellowed in a voice that carried across the entire oasis. "Come! Come and drink at Ong's tavern!"

"Tavern?" As the rest of the caravan let out a cheer, Tycho looked to Li. The Shou's expression was glum. "Li, we haven't seen anyplace that called itself a tavern since we left Almorel on the Lake of Mists. What's wrong with a tavern?"

"Look after your horse," Li said, sliding out of the saddle, "then come with me. You'll see what's wrong."

– QER-»

Tycho stepped through the door flap of the pavilion and was immediately engulfed by fetid warmth. The main chamber of the makeshift tavern was already crowded with the guards and passengers of the caravan. Some sat at rough tables, others on rickety chairs, but most lounged against heaped cushions of indeterminate age and color. All of them held vessels-earthenware mugs, waxed leather drinking jacks-and drank and laughed with a vengeance. Many of the women of the oasis were there as well, a few serving the tavern's customers, but many customers themselves, gathered in clusters to talk or around tables to play some boisterous game involving rune-carved bone tiles and a number of knives.

"Hoil" shouted the women around one table.

They snatched up cups and drank. Their knives, striking the tabletop in an intricate rhythm, didn't miss a beat.

Charcoal braziers added to the heat. Fat dripped, sizzling and popping, from long skewers of meat onto the hot coals, the heavy smell of it fighting a valiant battle with the odors of smoke and bodies. Soot and grease from the braziers left a shiny coating on the fabric of the pavilion's walls. High in the folds of the roof, long strands of black grease swayed like noxious icicles. Stained carpets covered the ground, though they might have supported a small garden on the dirt mashed into them. Tycho's foot came down in a wet spot where something had been spilled and simply left to soak in.

Tycho turned and glared at Li as the Shou followed him in.

"Sweet chum in a bucket, Li! Are you saying you don't like this place because it's dirty?"

Li shifted, as if longing for the heavy dao saber he had left back at the caravan's campsite, and said, "I don't like it because it's the most foul drinking house I have ever seen."

"Then I'll look forward to seeing the wine shops of Shou Lung. They must all be scrubbed out every night and painted fresh every morning."

He took a deep breath, savoring the smell of grilling meat and-

"Beer!" he gasped. "Blessed Lliira, a break from that foul horse milk drink the Tuigan make!" He captured two mugs from a passing serving woman and thrust one at Li. "Drink!" he ordered and drained his mug at a gulp.

The beer within was thin, sour, and studded with tiny, soft chunks that lodged against Tycho's throat and threatened to make him gag. Li gave him a gloating smile.

"Millet beer," the Shou said casually. "Brewed by the tavernkeeper in big goat skin bags."

"Pagh." Tycho stared at the residue that clung to the bottom of his mug and said, "It tastes like the goats are still inside them!"

"Here, here," boomed a loud, deep voice, "who's giving away my secrets?"

A heavy hand fell on Tycho's shoulder and spun him around. Tycho stared up into the face of another Shou easily as tall as Li, but plump where Li was lean and smiling where Li was dour. It was the big man who had greeted the arriving caravan-and almost certainly the tavernkeeper. Tycho bent low.

"Honored master Ong," he said in Shou, "my humblest apologies-"

Ong waved him to silence.

"My beer is terrible," he replied cheerfully. He held up a pitcher. "Would you like some more?"

Tycho blinked, then laughed and held out his mug.

"Bad beer gets better the more it's drunk!" he said and toasted Ong when his mug had been refilled.

The tavernkeeper turned to Li.

"Countryman?" he asked, lifting the pitcher.

Li shook his head and replied, "I learned my lesson last time."

Ong's smile, almost impossibly, grew even wider. "A return guest," he said. "I thought I recognized you. Let me see…" he closed his eyes in concentration. "A warrior and a servant of the imperial bureaucracy unless I misjudge your stance. Your voice has the sound of Keelung in Hai Yuan province-one of the silk families of Keelung, I think." Ong opened his eyes. "Kuang LiChien."

Li's eyebrows rose.

"Your memory is impressive."

Ong shrugged.

"A tavernkeeper's trick." Ong glanced back to Tycho and said, "Now you speak Shou with the accent of Ch'ing Tung province, hut if you come from Shou Lung, I'll drink my own beer. You have the look of someone from Faerun's near west, but your accent eludes me. Your voice is excellent, however, and I'd wager that you can sing more than a little."

"Tycho Arisaenn of Spandeliyon in Altumbel," said Tycho with a grin. "If you'd like a song, I'd be happy to oblige." He slid the chunky wooden body of a strilling around on the strap that held it slung across his back and plucked one of the instrument's strings with his thumb. "Though," he added casually, "it's the custom in Altumbel that a bard drinks for free as long as he plays."

"Ancestors bless Altumbel!" roared Ong. "I've often said it's the most civilized nation of Faerun! Come in, come in!" Wrapping thick arms around both men, he drew them farther into the crowd. "My usual singer is away at present-gone raiding with the other men of the oasis, the ungrateful dog!"

"We'd noticed the scarcity of men around the oasis," Li said. "Aren't they afraid to leave their wives and children unprotected?"

"The men of this oasis have a fierce reputation," Ong explained as they squeezed past a lounging cluster of merchants from the caravan. Ong freed Tycho from his embrace long enough to slosh beer into their mugs. The merchants cheered. Ong raised his pitcher in acknowledgment, then swept Li and Tycho along. "No other ordu or bandit gang would dare raid this oasis for fear of reprisals-though if you were to suggest that to one of them they'd run you through."

"They don't like to admit they're afraid?" asked Tycho.

"They don't like to admit they're afraid of men of flesh and blood," Ong replied, nodding back toward the door flap. "Local tales say that a powerful spirit dwells in the water here and the Tuigan will do almost anything to avoid offending it. It means they have some strange taboos but it also means-" He spread his arms wide and proclaimed loudly-"that there isn't a safer oasis in all the Endless Wastes!"

A mixture of travelers and local women shouted their agreement. Tycho looked toward the door flap.

"Is there really a spirit in the water?" he asked.

Li groaned and said, "No."

"But what if-?"

"No. No investigating, no exploring," Li said, shaking his head as Ong raised one eyebrow in an unspoken question. "Tycho has an unerring ability to find trouble."

Tycho glared at his friend.

"And Li," he said to Ong, "has an uncanny ability to ignore anything at all interesting!"

Ong slapped his arms around both of them once more, drawing them close.

"Curious or dull," he murmured, "don't question the Tuigans' beliefs. They take them very seriously."

Tycho gave him a disappointed look and asked, "Have you ever seen this spirit?"

"So long as I am among the Tuigan," said Ong, "I have no doubt that it exists. And if you have any sense beneath your curly hair, neither will you." He clapped them on the shoulders and stood back. "Now I believe there was talk of a song?" He reached to refill Tycho's mug again, but his pitcher was finally empty. "No matter," he said and called out, "Ibakha!"

A young Tuigan woman with a full pitcher of beer in her hand-the flirtatious young woman Tycho had seen as the caravan rode into the oasis-came pushing through the crowd. His disappointment vanished as she stopped at the sight of him. Maybe things wouldn't be so dull after all. He gave Ibakha a wink and another smile.

An older woman caught the gesture. In an instant, she was at Ibakha's side, snatching away the pitcher and delivering a few sharp words that made Ibakha flush as red as a bad sunburn. The young woman vanished into the crowd, while the older stalked up to Tycho, Li, and Ong. The pitcher she shoved at Ong, but her anger she unleashed at Tycho in a rush of Tuigan-accented Shou.

"You stay away from Ibakha, Faroon. She is betrothed." She slapped Tycho in the center of his chest and repeated, "Stay away from her!"

She stomped away. Tycho stared after her. After a moment of stunned silence, Ong cleared his throat.

"I apologize for Chotan. Did I mention that the most significant reason no one would raid this oasis is that everyone is afraid of the women?"

"Really?" Tycho rubbed his chest and winced. "Have you wondered if maybe the men go out raiding to get away from them?"

Ong howled with laughter and poured him fresh beer from the pitcher.

"Play, master bard, and if there's anything you need, just ask any of my women." He grinned and added, "Except perhaps Chotan."

He rolled away into the crowd, greeting each of his customers in turn. Li stared after him.

"There's something I don't like about our host," he said.

"He's friendly, Li," said Tycho with a grin. "You should try it sometime."

He set his mug on a nearby table and settled the butt of his strilling against his shoulder, then undipped the bow from the strap and drew it across the instrument's strings.

"Olare!" he called as faces turned at the sound. "Who wants a song?"

"— but hearts or gold," sang Tycho, "my swag must be sold, because I am-

He lifted his bow and swept it through the air.

"— the king of piiiirrates!" roared the crowd. Tycho ended the song with a flourish and leaped down from the tabletop to applause and ringing cheers. He grinned at Li as he wiped sweat from his face.

"You know," he said, "I think even the Tuigan women enjoyed that."

"And they probably don't have any idea what a pirate is," commented Li. "The pond outside is likely the largest body of water most of them have ever seen."

He sipped cautiously at his millet beer. Tycho laughed, then clipped his bow to the strap of his strilling and slid the instrument around against his back. He reached for his mug. It was empty.

"When did I finish this?"

"Sometime between The Thayan Pox and A Dwarf Went Delving" said Li.

Tycho looked around. With the music finished, many of the caravan travelers were leaving to stagger back to their bedrolls, though the fearsome women of the oasis were still drinking and playing their game of knives. Pretty young Ibakha was nowhere to be seen, probably sent home for her own protection. There were other serving women almost as pretty, though. Tycho caught the eye of one and gestured with his mug. She boldly sauntered over.

"More beer, FaroonV She didn't wait for a reply before filling his mug. "I am Chaka."

"I'm Tycho," he said. "Faroon-what does that mean, Chaka?"

She grinned and replied, "It's the land where you come from, isn't it?"

"Faroon… Faerun." Behind him, Tycho could hear Li snorting derisively at his flirtations. He ignored Li and said, "Your Shou is very good. Do you all speak it?"

"Ong insists on it. He teaches us. He thinks it's a more proper language than Tuigan." Chaka bent close. "You sing very well, Tycho. Maybe tonight I could teach you to sing a Tuigan song."

Her breath smelled of sweet spices. Tycho smiled

"Maybe I could sing a little song just for you, Chaka"

He cupped his hands over hers and sang a ripple of music. As he sang, he reached into himself, focusing his will through the music. Between his fingers and Chaka's, a fragile form took shape. He lifted his hands away to reveal a pale, delicate flower. Chaka stared at it.

"Magic," she breathed.

"A little," Tycho said modestly. "A beautiful flower for a beau-"

"Magic!" squeaked Chaka. She dropped the flower as if it was spider and jumped away from him. "There is no magic in the oasis! You'll offend-"

She clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes darted toward the tavern's door flap and the water beyond.

"The spirit?" Tycho asked in disbelief. "Magic offends the water spirit?"

Chaka gave a little nod. Tycho cursed the Tuigans' taboos silently and stood up, reaching for her.

"Chaka, I didn't know! It was nothing, just a little trick."

"No!" she yelped and started backing away.

Other people-other Tuigan women-were starting to look toward them. Surly Chotan was already heading in their direction, a storm of a scowl brewing on her face. Tycho took another step toward Chaka.

She turned around and darted through the crowd, vanishing through another flap in the fabric walls and deeper into the pavilion.

"Faroonl" yelled Chotan. "What did you do to her?"

Tycho cursed out loud. Li sighed and stood up.

"How do you manage this, Tycho?" he asked.

"I don't know," he said as he patted Li's chest. "You hold off Chotan. I'll go find Chaka before she gets everyone upset."

He dashed after the frightened woman before Li could do more than sputter and Chotan squawk in outrage.

Beyond the flap, the back rooms of Ong's pavilion were much like the back rooms of any tavern Tycho had ever crept through: small, jammed with stored goods, and dark. Very dark. Tycho cracked his shin against something low and hard, and swallowed an exclamation of pain. Unlike other back rooms, the walls that separated him from the rest of the tavern were literally no thicker than a good carpet. He could hear Chotan berating Li, and closer to hand the suddenly ominous rhythm of falling knives in the women's game.

"Hoi!" shouted the women.

Their cry covered a muffled yelp as Tycho tripped again. Should he risk more magic and Chaka's fear or maim himself in the darkness?

"Damn water spirit," he muttered, and fished in a belt pouch for a coin.

Clenching it in his fist, he sang a spell. Light leaked out between his fingers-not much, but enough to keep him from stumbling. Playing the faint illumination across the floor, he edged forward.

"Chaka?" he called softly. "Chaka, come out. It's all right."

There was no movement. He crept on. The back room was larger than he expected, and divided up by thin hangings. Chaka could have ducked through or under any of them. Tycho stuck to what seemed to be the largest of the back chambers, stepping quietly around an assortment of boxes, barrels, and sacks. The sounds of the tavern, muffled by the fabric walls, faded to a background murmur. Tycho cursed silently. There was no sign of Chaka. Maybe she had slipped into one of the side chambers after all. Maybe she knew of another door flap he had missed and was no longer even in the pavilion. He clenched his jaw.

Don't worry about it, he told himself, you've talked yourself out of much tighter situations than this!

He started to turn back to the main chamber of the tavern.

"Ah, my beauty! You grow more lovely with each passing day."

Ong's voice. Tycho froze, wrapping his fist tight around the glowing coin and choking off its faint light entirely. In the darkness, he could see an even fainter glow that leaked from a side chamber where the fabric of the hanging wall was rumpled by a box pushed against it. There was no passage to the chamber here-the entrance must have been from one of the other side chambers.

A woman's voice answered Ong in Tuigan and Tycho heard the tavernkeeper click his tongue in gentle reprimand.

"Speak Shou to me, my lovely."

The woman giggled.

"As you command, tremendous one!" she said saucily.

Tycho didn't recognize the woman's voice, but it was soft and musical, like the little bronze bells that the Tuigan women wore on their jacket cuffs. He grinned to himself. What woman of the oasis had Ong charmed into his arms? More importantly, what woman was worth tempting the wrath of a husband or father for a dalliance? He stretched out on the ground and wiggled forward to peer under the hanging.

His eyes went wide.

On the other side of the hanging, carpets and furs and rich eastern silks had been piled up into a kind of bed. Ong sprawled on the pile, his shirt open and his broad belly hanging out. Lounging beside him and rubbing his belly, her beautiful face illuminated by the soft, clearly magical glow of green glass globes, was Ibakha! Ong kissed a finger, then pressed it to Ibakha's lips.

"Are you teasing me?" he asked. Ibakha shook her head and replied, "You, O protector? Never!"

Her fingers paused and Ong gasped as she tweaked a hair.

"Perfidious wench!" the Shou growled. "Do you think that familiarity will protect you from a dragon's wrath?" He forced his voice deep so that it rolled in his chest. "My rage has wiped villages from the face of the world and carved canyons through mountains. I have become a man for you, and your beauty is all that stands between your people and my anger! Do you dare to displease me?"

"Never, great guardian of the oasis, never!" gasped Ibakha in mock fear, then lunged into Ong's arms with such force that they both rolled off of the heaped carpets.

Tycho stifled his laughter as he wriggled back away from the peep hole and stood.

"Ong has what?" exclaimed Li in disbelief. "He's seduced Ibakha."

Tycho leaned back. The main chamber of the tavern was growing empty. They were the last of the caravan travelers in the tent and only a few of the oasis's women, playing one last round of the knife game, were left. A pitcher of millet beer had been abandoned on the table-Tycho drank straight from it. '

"He's told her that he's the water spirit of the oasis incarnate," Tycho added, "the sly dog!"

Li scowled and said, "I knew there was something I didn't like about him! When he said the Tuigan would do anything to avoid offending their spirit…"

"I don't know if Ibakha really believes her people will be punished if she doesn't keep Ong happy," Tycho said, "but she does believe that the guardian of the oasis has fallen in love with her. I could see it in her eyes." He tapped one finger under his own eye. "Believe me, I've told enough stories to women myself to know the look."

"It's still wrong."

"Ha!" Tycho took another drink from the pitcher. "Where's Chotan? I'd like to know what she'd say about this!"

"Gone," said Li. He nodded toward the door flap. "Possibly to organize the women into a mob to hunt you down. She found the flower you made for Chaka and it vanished while she was holding it. She knows you worked magic in the oasis."

"Ong should hope-she never finds out about the magic lights he has back in his love nest then. He's probably breaking Tuigan taboos with every step." Tycho chuckled. "But I guess he doesn't need to worry. After all, if he's the water spirit, he's the source of them!"

"Hoi! Hoi! Hoi!"

The last women finished their game with a rousing cheer and a final swallow of beer, then rose and swaggered out of the tavern. Li's eyes followed them.

"I think," he said grimly, "that Ong should be careful. I wouldn't want those knives turned away from the gaming table."

"Shhh!" Tycho hissed, kicking him under the table.

Li winced but Tycho flicked his eyes toward the back of the chamber. Ibakha was stepping out from the flap ¦ that led to the back rooms. She saw them and blushed a deep red. Her eyes darted to the floor and stayed there as she rushed out of the tavern. A few moments later, Ong emerged from the back rooms as well. If he was startled or if he saw Li's glower, he hid it well.

"Still here, my friends?" Ong called. He came over and joined them at the table, producing a mug and holding it out for Tycho to fill. "You'll have a hard ride tomorrow if you linger too long, I can guarantee that."

"I've traveled under worse conditions," Tycho said. He tapped the pitcher against Ong's mug in a toast. "To good health and bad beer. Tell me, Ong, how does a Shou come to run a tavern at an oasis haunted by a Tuigan water spirit?"

Ong drank a mouthful of beer, wincing as he swallowed, and explained, "Through a tragic disagreement. Offend the wrong powers in Shou Lung, Tycho, and you can find yourself exiled to-well, to such a place as this." He waved a hand around them. "Still, it's possible to make the best of a bad situation. This is a good oasis. It's safe, the water is good, caravans stop here fairly frequently-"

"The men leave their women in the care of the oasis spirit when they go raiding," said Tycho, fighting to hold back a grin.

Li just grunted in distaste. Ong's cup hesitated briefly in its journey back to the tabletop. He glanced at each of them.

"The women can take care of themselves," he said, cautious.

"No doubt they can," Tycho replied, "so long as they don't displease the-"

It was too much. He tried to give Ong a knowing smile, but as soon as his lips even twitched, the grin he had been fighting broke out across his face like a riot. He clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his laughter from bubbling out as well. Beer slopped out of the pitcher as he rocked back and forth. Ong's eyes were narrow. Tycho shook his head and lifted his hand away from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Ong," he gasped. "I was in the back looking for Chaka and I saw you and Ibakha. It's just…" He choked off another chuckle. "Well, you saw how Chotan reacted to my just smiling at her!"

He reached across the table to pour Ong more beer.

The Shou put his hand over his mug.

"No," he said.

Tycho shook his head.

"Don't worry! It's your business, not mine!" He raised the pitcher to Ong and added, "But you're a clever one, taking advantage of the Tuigans' own superstitions!"

"The Tuigan are no more superstitious than they should be," said Ong. He reached out and pulled the pitcher from Tycho's hand. "You should go now."

Tycho stared at his empty fingers then at Ong. The tavernkeeper looked back with a flat expression. "Ong…" he began. "Get out."

Tycho could feel blood rush to his face, but Li was the first to move. The Shou pushed his chair away from the table sharply and stood up, leaning forward with his fists on the tabletop.

"Your tavern reflects your soul," he said in distaste, "and both offend me. I don't find this so amusing as Tycho does. I'll leave with pleasure. Perhaps I understand now why you were exiled from the Great Empire."

Ong scowled and said, "Or perhaps you do not. Are all the sons of Kuang so rude?"

Li's breath hissed between his teeth and his hand reached for the sword he hadn't worn. Tycho jumped up.

"Whoa! Easy!" he said, hands held between the two Shou. "Easy, both of you. This is-"

"Oh, be quiet!" Ong snapped. He jerked his head toward the door. "That is the way out. Go, take this ill-bred dog with you, and never foul my presence with your flatulent singing again!"

Tycho stopped and turned slowly to glare at Ong, meeting him harsh gaze for harsh gaze.

"If my singing is flatulent, then I guess no one will listen when I break wind with a new song." He gave Ong a thin smile. "What do you think, Li?" he asked over his shoulder. "The Water Spirit's Lie?"

"For a song," said Li, "it smells very good."

For a moment, Ong regarded them with narrow eyes, then rose slowly from his seat. His massive chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

"If you will not leave on your own," he growled, "maybe you will leave if I take you outside myself!"

"Outside?" Tycho spread his arms. "If you want to try something, O great guardian of the oasis, try it right here."

"It's bad enough when customers break up my tavern," Ong grumbled as he stepped around the table and walked to the door flap, holding it aside for them. "I don't want to do it myself."

Li passed though stiffly, as if the tavernkeeper were invisible, but Tycho spat at Ong's feet as he passed. Outside, the night air of the steppe was cool and still. On the other side of the oasis, the caravan lay silent, the shapes of carts, beasts, and sleeping men indistinct in the moonlight. Nearer to hand the yurts of the Tuigan settled into similar silence as the women of the oasis finally took to their beds. A few paces from the pavilion, Li turned and dropped into a disciplined fighting stance, his hands up and open. Tycho, however, stripped off his strilling and loosened the sleeves of his shirt, stalking back and forth and swearing angrily under his breath.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, you lying barrel of lard?" he called.

Ong let the door flap fall closed behind him and turned around.

"Why," he asked, "would you assume I was lying?"

He took a step forward. The foot that left the ground was human. The foot that came down was not.

"Blessed Lliira," gasped Tycho.

"Mother of dogs!" cursed Li.

Toes twice as long as Tycho's fingers, each with a membrane of webbing stretched between them and tipped with a thick claw, dug into the hard ground. The creature's hind and forelegs were short, like a crocodile's, but its body was long and sinuous. It reared back on a whiplike tail, and a neck almost as long and thin arched against the night. Scales glittered blue-green on the creature's back, glossy yellow on its belly-a belly as unmistakably fat as Ong's.

Do you think that familiarity, Ong had asked Ibakha, will protect you from a dragon's wrath?

In a streamlined, wedge-shaped head that carried pearl-white horns and thick whiskers of red and gold, Ong's angry eyes stared down at them.

"Perhaps," he said in a deep, rolling voice, "you don't understand as much as you think you do."

His fat chest swelled with breath.

The rushing sound of air struck terror through Tycho like a cold sword. With a yelp of fear, he hurled himself to the side-and straight into Li. They slammed into the ground together. Tycho managed to twist around just in time to see massive jaws gape wide. Fire? Ice? Poison? He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the agony of the dragon's breath.

Except that instead of agony, the dragon's breath enveloped him in gentle coolness. He opened his eyes to thick mist and heavy drops of water falling on him. He touched his cheek.

"Rain?" he breathed.

Li's hand clapped over his mouth. Tycho could just make out his friend's face as he scanned the gray darkness overhead.

Somewhere above, something moved. Tycho caught a brief glimpse of a long body writhing through the air-Ong had no wings, but he flew like a snake crawling along the ground-then it was gone, vanished in the mist.

"Honored ancestors watch over us," groaned Li, releasing Tycho.

Tycho wiped water from his eyes. The rain was beginning to come down harder.

"He flies without wings, he breathes rain clouds," the bard choked. "What kind of dragon does that?"

"A chiang lung a dragon of the east, guardian of rivers," said Li. He kept his gaze on the darkness overhead, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the rain. "Ong really is a water spirit, Tycho!"

"He didn't look very spiritlike to me!"

"Lung dragons aren't like the dragons of Faerun. They're mandarins of the Celestial Bureaucracy. They hold posts assigned by the lords of the spirit world."

"He's a bureaucrat?" Tycho hissed

"An angry bureaucrat who could kill us with a swipe!" Li snapped. He scanned this mist. "Where is he? What's he doing?"

From somewhere across the oasis, muffled shouts penetrated the mist-the travelers from the caravan, though it sounded like they were shouting more in wonder at the rain than in fear at a dragon soaring through the night. Ong was hiding in his own rain clouds, Tycho realized. The caravan couldn't see him. He and Li were the only ones who knew what danger they were in.

"He's toying with us!" Tycho cursed. "Li, we have to get to the caravan! There's enough of us together to make a stand!"

He whirled around, groping along the muddy ground for his abandoned strilling.

His fingers closed on wet wood just as Li shouted, "Down!"

From the corner of his eye, Tycho saw mist billow as a long shape came rushing down from the sky. He didn't wait to see more, but just threw himself flat in the mud. The wind of Ong's passage howled cold along his back and the lash of the dragon's tale caught him, sending him tumbling across the crowd like a toy. He ended up on his back, gasping for air.

Ong was climbing again, gaining height before making another pass. Rage and terror lurched in his belly but Tycho sang out desperately, hurling a discordant note after the vanishing dragon. Magical sound, strong enough to knock a man off his feet, blasted through the clouds and rain. Ong just laughed, a deep chuckle of grim amusement. The clouds opened and rain poured down in heavy curtains. Tycho's guts churned. His magic wasn't enough even to shake the dragon!

The noise of the spell had, however, brought cries of alarm from the unseen caravan. At least they knew something was wrong. Tycho half-staggered, half-slid along the wet ground to Li. The Shou was as muddy as he was.

"The caravan!" Tycho shouted at him over the sound of the rain. "Which way?"

"Here!" Tycho called as he swung around. Human shapes loomed in the darkness. He bit back a yelp of surprise.

"What have you done, Faroon?" snarled Chotaris voice.

A hooded lantern slid open. Its light turned the shadowy clouds to glowing mist, but Tycho could see Chaka, Ibakha, and all the other Tuigan women as well. Many of them were clutching knives.

"Close the lantern before he sees the light!" he urged frantically. "It's Ong-he's a dragon!"

"Of course he is!" spat Ibakha.

"Hold your tongue!" Chotan screeched. Tycho blinked and Li stared, but Ibakha stood tall and proud. Beside her, a wrinkled old woman rolled her eyes. Chotan glared at the old woman. "Khui!"

Khui gave her a suffering look.

"Enough jealousy, Chotan!" she said as calmly as if they were standing around a campfire. "We all have to move aside eventually."

The old woman's Shou was flawless, better than Chotan's or Chaka's. Tycho's mouth fell open.

"Y-you…" he sputtered. The women of the oasis turned to stare at him. "But…"

"You truly understand nothing, Tycho Arisaenn."

The night air stirred and a wind blew down from above. It pushed aside the rain clouds, clearing an eye of calm before the pavilion though mist still cloaked the rest of the oasis. Tycho and Li stared up as Ong eased his bulk down to float protectively over the women, moonlight and lanternlight combining to flash over his scaly hide.

"You stand on the threshold of the east but still think that you are in the west," Ong continued. "This is no longer Faerun!"

Li made a strangled noise in his throat. Ong's head dipped down until it swayed level with the Shou's.

"And you, son of Kuang. You presume to judge me?" he snarled. His head thrust forward. Tycho could smell his breath-it carried the wet scent of mud, mist, and green leaves. "I have spoken no lies tonight! I am an exile, three hundred years condemned to the westernmost post of the Celestial Bureaucracy by powers greater than you can imagine. Once I was the spirit of a mighty river. Now I am guardian of a sluggish pond, my reach bound by an oasis!"

Tycho swallowed.

"Well," he said weakly, struggling to force back his terror, "I guess that would explain why you've gotten as a fat as a lord."

Ong reared back and roared at the sky, the sound of his voice like thunder rolling across the oasis. Out of the silence that followed, new sounds rose: terrified bleats and bellows of frightened animals, shouts of fear and panic from the caravan.

"Ong!" warned Khui. "They'll know you're here!"

Ibakha gasped. Even Chotan looked worried.

The dragon's jaws ground together.

"Three hundred years," he snarled at Tycho and Li through clenched teeth. "Three hundred years of hiding like a beast, unable to reveal myself. The love of my Tuigan beauties sustains me. The tavern that you so despise, Kuang Li Chien, is my connection to the world. To lose either would be true condemnation. In jest or in truth, I will not let you take them from me!"

Three hundred years of hiding, unable to reveal, myself.

Ong's words fluttered like butterflies against Tycho's fear. That the dragon might be discovered had frightened the fearsome Tuigan women. Even at the height of his rage, Ong had hidden himself in clouds before turning against the men who had angered him.

Tycho's eyes went wide even as Li spread his hands and said desperately, "Great one, neither of us will ever speak of this. By the honor of my ancestors, I swear it!"

"My apologies to your ancestors," Ong growled back, "but I cannot take that chance."

His jaws parted and he lunged forward.

Tycho grabbed Li's shirt and jerked him back and through the door flap of the tavern as Ong's teeth snapped together like a hundred knives only a hand-span in front of them. They stumbled to the soiled carpets of the tavern floor, the door flap falling closed behind them. The fabric shook with Ong's anger. Li stared at it, his face pale. Tycho dragged him to his feet.

"Li, he can't leave the oasis!"

Li's eyes blinked, then focused on Tycho.

"Whatever powers forced Ong into exile here won't let him leave the oasis," Tycho explained urgently. "That's why he's afraid of being discovered-caravans would avoid the oasis if they knew a dragon occupied it, and warriors would just keep coming after him until he was dead. I bet that's why the Tuigan have a taboo against magic in the oasis. Magic could ferret out Ong!"

Li flung up his arm and cried, "Tycho, we're still stuck in a tent! A tent won't keep out a dragon!"

"But it will keep him busy!"

Outside, Ong was shouting, his voice changing as he spoke, dwindling from the roar of a dragon to the bellow of a man. The Tuigan women were shouting too. Tycho forced the thought of their flashing knives from his mind. He pulled a dagger from his belt and shoved it into Li's hands.

"Get to the back of the tent and be ready to cut us a new door!"

Li swallowed and ran for the back of the pavilion. Tycho muttered a desperate prayer to whatever deities might be watching and grabbed at the iron leg of a brazier. The hot metal seared his palm, but he choked back the pain and dumped the coals out onto the nearest pile of cushions. He didn't wait to watch the smoldering embers take hold of the fresh tinder, but just ran after Li toward the back of the tent, knocking over every brazier he could.

"Tycho!" shouted Ong.

Tycho whirled around. The fat dragon, wearing his human shape once more, stood in the door of the tavern, flap clutched in his hand, and women crowded behind him.

All of them were momentarily frozen by the sight of the flames rising in the tent.

To lose either women or tavern, Ong had said, would be condemnation. Tycho's music might not have been strong enough to harm the dragon directly, but that didn't mean it couldn't affect him in other ways.

"How about one last song, Ong?" Tycho yelled. He reached inside himself and sang, light ripples of music that hissed and crackled on the air. He sang to the fire.

From within the flames, something answered. Glowing embers rose and shifted like eyes, staring first at Tycho then shifting to Ong. Flames gathered together into a form the size of a child and tendrils of fire reached out. Ong's eyes flashed with anger.

"A fire elemental? You attack a lord of water with a puppet of fire?"

The elemental's tendrils brushed the walls of the tent, which burst into flame. It moved across the carpets and they too burned.

"Who said I was attacking you?" called Tycho. He spun around and plunged through the flap into the back of the tavern. "Now, Li!" he screamed.

Over the crackle of flames and the howls of the dragon, Tycho heard cloth tear as Li opened a rip in the wall of the tent. The fire gave him just enough light to see. He dived through the tavern's new door hard on Li's heels, and kept running-

"Are you sure that will get us enough time?" Li gasped as they raced through the rain.

"Ask me again after we've made it out!"

Behind them, women were shouting and Ong was roaring. A strange liquid rush rumbled through the night, followed by the long hiss of an extinguished flame. Tycho bent his head and ran harder.

The caravan that came straggling along the Golden Way in the morning light was a good deal more subdued than the one that had entered the oasis the night before. All eyes turned-some with wary suspicion, some with outright fear-to the two figures that waited in the meager shadow of the marker stone. Li nudged Tycho as the caravan approached.

"Mother of dogs!" he breathed.

Tycho looked where the Shou pointed.

Chotan and Ibakha rode alongside the caravan-on Li's and Tycho's horses. As they drew close to the marker, they jumped down, letting the horses walk on their own. Both women glared at the men.

"We have a message for you," growled Ibakha. She flung a Tuigan knife into the ground at Tycho's feet. "Ride the Wastes with care."

Tycho swallowed and said, "Is that a message from Ong?"

"No," said Chotan. "It's a warning from the Tuigan."

"And Ong?" asked Li.

"He sends his respect for your fast thinking-and reminds you that even exiles have friends." The grin she gave them was vicious and eager. "Enjoy Shou Lung, Faroon. You ride with a dragon's attention now."

They turned and walked back down the trail toward the oasis. Li and Tycho stared after them.