Filter House by Nisi Shawl Read Free Book Online Page B

perceptions remain unclouded by expectations of any sort, the possibilities inherent in the moment will present themselves to me with much more readiness.” So saying, she tucked her goose-bumped arms between her satin-trousered legs and amused herself with speculations as to the range of European wolves.
    It was getting dark by the time the dragon returned, dropping to the ground with a rattling clatter. The source of this sound was soon revealed: a pike, a slim, straight Frankish sword, and a badly dented helm. “I hope you don’t mind,” the dragon said, depositing his acquisitions at her feet.
    “Mind? Why should I mind? They are not exactly what I asked for, but they will do most admirably.” She began scraping away the soil beneath the iron staple with the sword.
    “Well, but what I meant was, the former owner of these implements is now completely incapacitated, and I thought you perhaps—”
    “Might object? To the death of one of my father’s enemies?” She dropped the sword and positioned the helm, dent-side down. “Or if not, of some turncoat who persuaded him to place me as I am now?” She picked up the pike, measured it against the helm and staple, moved the helm, and inserted the butt of the pike.
    “We see. Perhaps you will do the favor of explaining recent political developments in greater detail.”
    “With pleasure, once we reach your conducive atmosphere, which I fervently hope will be a warm one.” The princess gave a shiver. “And now if you will be so kind as to stand upon this pike-head, I will very soon be free.” The dragon did, and it was as she had predicted. A little more scraping with the sword and the staple came up in the princess’s hands.
    “What now?”
    “Now I will take you home.”
    “Is it far?” asked Ousmani, for she was hungry, cold, and despite her earlier nap, tired.
    “Not far,” the dragon reassured her. “But I’m afraid it will not be possible for you to walk.”
    The flight was a short one, and unspectacular. Evening mists obscured the view. Ousmani’s only impressions were of rough, rushing winds and a bone-numbing chill, combined with the dull realization that the dragon failed to crash into any unseen obstacles. She discovered as she dismounted that the dragon’s wings were quite as oily as they looked.
    “You approve?” asked the dragon, as the princess gazed around its lair. A central fire revealed many-fissured walls hung with strands of jewels and a floor of glittering white sand.
    “Oh, yes,” answered Ousmani, hurrying to the fire. “Now if only—” She stopped suddenly. Perhaps it would be unwise to introduce the idea of eating. Reptiles, she remembered reading, could go for long periods without nourishment.
    “If only what?”
    The Princess made no answer.
    “But, naturally, you do not wish to appear rude. I, by corollary, do not wish to epitomize the insufficient host. If you will examine the leather wallet directly opposite you, lying against that breastplate, I believe its contents will satisfy.”
    Ousmani seized the leather pouch and untied the drawstring. It held a crumbling lump of leavened bread, a withered onion, and four trapezoidal segments of some unrecognizable dried meat. Pork, probably, Ousmani thought, but she did not in the least care. It had been a day, more than twenty-four hours of the clock, since her last meal. She stuffed a brown slab into her mouth and chewed, suffusing her tongue with a delicious saltiness.
    More than twenty years of training in the niceties of court conduct made themselves felt, and Ousmani spoke without thinking. “Sir, will you dine?”
    “Not tonight,” replied the dragon.
    This ambiguous reply renewed Ousmani’s uneasiness.
    When the dragon saw that the princess had finished her meal, it directed her to a spring hidden in a recess of the cave. She returned refreshed and ready, as bid, to tell her tale.
    “Kind Sir—” She faltered. “Or Madame, I know not which, and ought not to