“Where are you going?”
“I saw hearty-looking sheep at pasture a league away. I will go kill one.”
“No, no.” Celyn shook his head. “I was suggesting we go eat at a local inn or tavern.”
Elina frowned. “You mean have others make food for us?”
“Aye. Won’t that be nice?”
“What if they put poison in our food?”
Celyn smiled, but even he knew that it was mocking. “What a happy place you come from, Elina Shestakova of the excessively and ridiculously long name. A land filled with such joy!”
“Because we do not expect others to cook for us, you mock?”
“Do your warriors cook for themselves?”
“Why should they?” she snapped back. “They protect the Steppes of the Outerplains and have husbands to do it for them. So, should they not have—”
“Everything?”
Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “We all share with each other. It is the way of our life. It is how we survive.”
“And that’s great. Fabulous. Really. But while you’re in my world, we can have others cook for us and there is no shame. I know I don’t feel shame.”
“You snatch up cows while they graze and eat them whole, even though they offer you no challenge. I doubt you feel shame for anything.”
“Shame is something dragons simply don’t understand. And why should we? We know dragons are superior to all other beings. And that’s just fine with us. Now . . . can we go eat?”
“Anything else, handsome?”
Elina looked up at the barmaid who’d been serving them since they’d walked into the place. Although the dragon was friendly with everyone and most were friendly right back, it was the women who paid him the most attention. Then again, it wasn’t exactly surprising. He was extremely pretty. He’d have many suitors if he spent time among the Steppes Tribes. As she’d said before, Rider women liked to have at least a few pretty husbands.
“Another bowl of stew for me. More bread. Another ale.” He finally looked at Elina. “You want more?”
“More?” She glanced down at her third bowl of stew. Like the Steppes wolves, her people gorged when they had ample food because there was a good chance supplies would be scarce the next day. Plus, with so much traveling, they needed to make sure they ate enough to keep up their strength. Getting too skinny on the Plains simply led to a quick death and sobbing relatives.
But even so, she still didn’t feel the need to eat as much in one sitting as this dragon, who, Elina knew, would eat again in a few hours.
“No. I am fine.”
“You sure? Another ale?”
“Water.”
“And a pitcher of water for my friend.”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
The barmaid walked off, not even looking in Elina’s direction. Elina often received the same treatment from her own people, but she guessed it was for very different reasons.
Once they were alone again, the dragon focused on Elina and asked, “So what about your family?”
The stew Elina was about to eat hovered on its spoon, right outside her mouth. She stared at the dragon. She did not understand him. He was supposed to be chatting up the locals. Not pestering her with all his bloody questions.
“What?”
“Your family.”
“What about them?”
“Are you close to them? Do they like being part of the Steppes Tribes? Do you look like your mother or your father? Does your mother have many husbands? Do you even know who your father is? And what about—”
“Stop.” She dropped the spoon back into the bowl of stew. “By all death, please stop.” Elina relaxed into her chair and gazed at the dragon. “Your mouth is like panicked horse. It just keeps running.”
“I’m curious.” He pointed at her with the last piece of bread left until the barmaid brought more. “And you said I could ask you questions during breaks. This is a break.”
“But you ask too many questions.”
“You didn’t put a limit on how many questions I could ask.”
“Why do you need to know?”
He shrugged and repeated, “I’m curious.”
“I am surprised your curiosity has not helped you meet death much sooner.”
“You’d think,” he said with a smile. “I suppose it must be my majestic charm.” He grinned and she glowered. It seemed to be their way these days.
Elina raised her forefinger. “You can ask me one question about my kin.”
“Just one?” When she glowered more, he quickly said, “All right. All right. No need to get vicious.”
The dragon thought a moment, then asked, “How many siblings do you have?”
Why he was asking her that, Elina had no idea. That question hadn’t been among the ones he’d just asked, and she couldn’t see how the answer would be very interesting to anyone. But if that’s what he wanted to know . . .
“Twenty-four.”
“Are you close to any of them?”
“A-aah.” She raised her forefinger again. “One question. One! ”
“This is a continuation of the one question. It’s not a new question. Simply a clarification of the original question.”
“A clarifi—” Elina briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. She did not and would never understand this dragon. “I am close to one. A sister.”
“I saw hearty-looking sheep at pasture a league away. I will go kill one.”
“No, no.” Celyn shook his head. “I was suggesting we go eat at a local inn or tavern.”
Elina frowned. “You mean have others make food for us?”
“Aye. Won’t that be nice?”
“What if they put poison in our food?”
Celyn smiled, but even he knew that it was mocking. “What a happy place you come from, Elina Shestakova of the excessively and ridiculously long name. A land filled with such joy!”
“Because we do not expect others to cook for us, you mock?”
“Do your warriors cook for themselves?”
“Why should they?” she snapped back. “They protect the Steppes of the Outerplains and have husbands to do it for them. So, should they not have—”
“Everything?”
Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “We all share with each other. It is the way of our life. It is how we survive.”
“And that’s great. Fabulous. Really. But while you’re in my world, we can have others cook for us and there is no shame. I know I don’t feel shame.”
“You snatch up cows while they graze and eat them whole, even though they offer you no challenge. I doubt you feel shame for anything.”
“Shame is something dragons simply don’t understand. And why should we? We know dragons are superior to all other beings. And that’s just fine with us. Now . . . can we go eat?”
“Anything else, handsome?”
Elina looked up at the barmaid who’d been serving them since they’d walked into the place. Although the dragon was friendly with everyone and most were friendly right back, it was the women who paid him the most attention. Then again, it wasn’t exactly surprising. He was extremely pretty. He’d have many suitors if he spent time among the Steppes Tribes. As she’d said before, Rider women liked to have at least a few pretty husbands.
“Another bowl of stew for me. More bread. Another ale.” He finally looked at Elina. “You want more?”
“More?” She glanced down at her third bowl of stew. Like the Steppes wolves, her people gorged when they had ample food because there was a good chance supplies would be scarce the next day. Plus, with so much traveling, they needed to make sure they ate enough to keep up their strength. Getting too skinny on the Plains simply led to a quick death and sobbing relatives.
But even so, she still didn’t feel the need to eat as much in one sitting as this dragon, who, Elina knew, would eat again in a few hours.
“No. I am fine.”
“You sure? Another ale?”
“Water.”
“And a pitcher of water for my friend.”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
The barmaid walked off, not even looking in Elina’s direction. Elina often received the same treatment from her own people, but she guessed it was for very different reasons.
Once they were alone again, the dragon focused on Elina and asked, “So what about your family?”
The stew Elina was about to eat hovered on its spoon, right outside her mouth. She stared at the dragon. She did not understand him. He was supposed to be chatting up the locals. Not pestering her with all his bloody questions.
“What?”
“Your family.”
“What about them?”
“Are you close to them? Do they like being part of the Steppes Tribes? Do you look like your mother or your father? Does your mother have many husbands? Do you even know who your father is? And what about—”
“Stop.” She dropped the spoon back into the bowl of stew. “By all death, please stop.” Elina relaxed into her chair and gazed at the dragon. “Your mouth is like panicked horse. It just keeps running.”
“I’m curious.” He pointed at her with the last piece of bread left until the barmaid brought more. “And you said I could ask you questions during breaks. This is a break.”
“But you ask too many questions.”
“You didn’t put a limit on how many questions I could ask.”
“Why do you need to know?”
He shrugged and repeated, “I’m curious.”
“I am surprised your curiosity has not helped you meet death much sooner.”
“You’d think,” he said with a smile. “I suppose it must be my majestic charm.” He grinned and she glowered. It seemed to be their way these days.
Elina raised her forefinger. “You can ask me one question about my kin.”
“Just one?” When she glowered more, he quickly said, “All right. All right. No need to get vicious.”
The dragon thought a moment, then asked, “How many siblings do you have?”
Why he was asking her that, Elina had no idea. That question hadn’t been among the ones he’d just asked, and she couldn’t see how the answer would be very interesting to anyone. But if that’s what he wanted to know . . .
“Twenty-four.”
“Are you close to any of them?”
“A-aah.” She raised her forefinger again. “One question. One! ”
“This is a continuation of the one question. It’s not a new question. Simply a clarification of the original question.”
“A clarifi—” Elina briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. She did not and would never understand this dragon. “I am close to one. A sister.”
