Her Majesty's Wizard #1 by Christopher Stasheff Read Free Book Online Page B

a slender, serpentine body, and a saw-toothed crest running along his backbone. There was an added European element, though- huge batwings were folded along his body. But the leathery skin hung from them in rags, with yard-long rents from edge to bone. The edges of the tears were heavy with scar tissue.
       Stegoman turned his huge head toward Matt. Matt stood very still, aware that he was on trial.
       Slowly, the dragon nodded. "Thou hast not the look of an evil man-though it is known that a fair face may hide a lying heart."
       "Oh, I'm a lousy liar! Every time I try, I can't even fool myself!"
       "That is somewhat necessary to effective lying, aye." The dragon nodded. "Still, mortals are not so forthright as dragons. If we dislike someone, or are angered by his conduct, we are quite quick and open in saying so."
       "Mm." Matt pursed his lips. "I expect that leads to a lot of fights."
       "Not so many, no. We each know our fellows are quick to anger; and we know their power as we know our own. There can never truly be a winner when two dragons fight; he who's left alive will be so sorely wounded that he'll need months to heal. Thus we respect even those we do not like."
       "I see." Matt chewed at his lower lip. "There are ways of telling someone what you think of him without making it really an insult."
       "Quite right." Stegoman looked faintly surprised. "Few mortals are so quick to see it."
       Neither did Matt, really; but he'd had a smattering of anthropology in his undergraduate days and could recognize a highly individualistic society when he heard about one. The pride that underlay Stegoman's words, the outspokenness, coupled with relatively little fighting, meant a very stringent set of social conventions; without them, Stegoman's people would be at each other's throats constantly. They might be ornery, but these dragons must be painfully polite to one another.
       Matt cleared his throat. "But doesn't that make it difficult to get any kind of united action going? I mean, discipline..."
       "The discipline is within each dragon," Stegoman said tartly. "When we organize for battle, each dragon's honor is respected; he whom we choose to lead us knows we've chosen to follow his commands, so when he gives them, he's careful to avoid insult. We do as he directs, for we've chosen him for wisdom."
       Their commanders must be diplomats as much as generals. Nice society to belong to-if you didn't mind the constant risk of getting killed in a duel. "One dragon to a hill, eh?"
       "Mountain," Stegoman snapped. "Our homeland is the eastern mountains-the range that divides this land of Merovence from the sink of sorcery called Allustria. Ever and anon, Allustria wars on Merovence or, less often, Merovence attacks Allustria; and to pass through our mountains, both attack the dragons. We are born and bred to-war; each dragon will defend his mountain with his life, but all of us together must defend our land."
       "I take it that when Allustria and Merovence attack you, they both lose?"
       Stegoman nodded; dragons could look smug! "Since Hardishane first taught us order, we never have been conquered."
       "Wait a second-who was Hardishane?"
       Stegoman stared, scandalized. "Whence comest thou, ignorant mortal, that thou knowest not of Hardishane?"
       Matt sidestepped. "It's a long story. Let's just say I haven't studied history. Who was he?"
       "Why, the Emperor, thou unlearned one! The first Emperor he who came, eight hundred years agone, to band together all these Christian lands against the force of evil! For that cause, he made alliance with us, and showed us the manner of fighting as an army-and thus, at last, we prevailed against the giants!"
       Matt started to speak, then hesitated.
       "Close thy mouth," the dragon growled, "and do not say, for I can see, thou knowest naught of giants."
       Matt nodded weakly.
       Stegoman sighed and. curled his