“Do I? Maybe my sheer attractiveness is making you reconsider your penchant for ponies, hmm?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and was rewarded with Grub blushing to the very tips of his ears and scowling. “I’m very attractive, Grub. You can say it. Go on, say it.”
Grub’s flush deepened. “Don’t try to change the subject. My point is, having a quill doesn’t make you a scribe, any more than having a map makes Scott a navigator.”
Loth frowned. “You’re very judgemental for a wanted man. By that logic, you’d probably argue that despite freeing you this isn’t a real rescue party because we don’t have…” Loth cast about desperately for an example. “A dragon.”
Dave stopped composing long enough to interrupt. “I have a dragon.”
Loth froze, then whirled on his heel. “We have a dragon?”
“A dragon?” Scott echoed, striding over. “Excellent! All quests need a dragon!”
Dave beamed. “Yeah. Had him since I was little.”
Loth was intrigued. A dragon was a rarity, and if he could get his hands on one… the possibilities were endless.
“Is he nearby?”
Dave nodded. “I’ll call him.” He let out a piercing whistle.
Loth shaded his face with one hand and tilted his head back, peering into the sky, while next to him Grub did the same. They both watched and waited, listening for the majestic whomping of dragon wings, all their attention focussed upward.
Which probably explained why Loth was totally unprepared for the wet tongue in his ear.
“Gah!” He leapt into the air, flailing, trying to see what it was that had attacked him. He turned his head and was greeted by a pair of wide green eyes, staring. They belonged to what was possibly the tiniest dragon Loth had ever seen, perched on his shoulder. Loth stared back. The dragon licked his cheek.
“What, exactly is that?” he asked, fascinated.
“’s my fingerdragon. Trained him from an egg, I did. Meet Pyromaneous the Third. I call him Pie.”
“The Third? You have others?” Loth watched as the tiny beast, which really was no bigger than a finger, hopped down his arm and crawled into one of the pouches of his scarf.
“I forgot they could fly an’ I left the window open,” Dave admitted. “Mum said three strikes and no more pets, so I was careful with this one. S’why I brought him. Look, he likes you!” And indeed, the little creature was making pleased-sounding noises accompanied by tiny puffs of smoke, kneading at the fabric of the scarf before curling around itself and settling in exactly like a kitten would. That is, if kittens had scales and breathed fire.
Well, smoke.
Loth smiled despite himself. It really was cute, in a bizarre sort of way. The scales on its body were burnished gold, but when it spread its tiny wings they were translucent, a brilliant emerald green that matched its eyes. “Look at you. Where have you been hiding, hmm?” Loth breathed, unable to resist reaching out a fingertip. “Hello, Pie.”
Pie chirruped at him, sniffing the fingertip and giving it a tiny lick before going back to nesting in his scarf. “He normally lives in my sleeve,” Dave explained.
Grub leaned forward. “Can I—?”
Dave nodded. “Pie likes most people.”
Grub ran a fingertip down the dragon’s spine, and Pie arched in obvious pleasure, so Grub did it again.
“Me next! I’m the leader!” Scott exclaimed, pushing Grub aside and attempting to remove Pie from his temporary nest.
Pie hissed and spat out a tiny flame, and Scott leapt back with a most unheroic yelp and a scowl. “You said he liked people.”
“Most people,” Dave said darkly, leaning in to make sure Pie was okay. “He’s particular. Lucky he didn’t bite you, messing with his nest.”
“Bite me? He’s not poisonous, is he?”
Dave’s green brow scrunched for a moment. “No. He’s not poisonous.”
Loth cupped his hands under the pocket that Pie was settled in and lifted it towards Dave in offering. “Did you want to take him back?”
Dave shook his head. “Nah. Told you, he likes you.”
“What good’s he going to be though?” Scott asked, brow furrowed. “I mean, look at him. He’s far too sm—”
“Say small, Scott. I dare you.” Ada scowled, hands planted on her hips.
“Oh, yes do, Scott,” Loth added, just as Dave’s expression turned thunderous. Dave covered Pie’s body completely with an enormous green hand, as if to protect his pet from any unpleasant talk.
“You got something against my dragon just cause he’s little?” he demanded.
“Or little things generally?” Ada challenged, one hand moving to her axe handle. “You wanna talk about size?” For just a second Loth was afraid that the murder of their leader, for not knowing when to shut his big dumbarse heroic mouth, would stymie his rescue.
Calarian grinned broadly and picked his fingernails clean with the point of an arrow. “Can I have all Scott’s stuff when he’s dead?”
But even dumb animals had an instinct for danger, and Scott backed away quickly and held both hands up in a placating gesture. “Young, I was going to say he’s young, that’s all! I’m sure he’s good for... something.”
Loth was never one to miss an opportunity to make himself look good at someone else’s expense, and this was no exception. “I think it’s very ignorant of you to be such a sizeist, Scott. Pyromaneous the Third is magnificent,” he proclaimed loudly, “and, as royalty, mine is the opinion that matters.”
He ignored the choking noises Grub made.
Dave nodded, eyes wide. “You’re a good boy, aren't you?” He lifted his hand away and Pie warbled at him and nodded his tiny head.
“Does he understand you?” Grub asked.
Dave nodded again, happier this time. “Watch this.” He held out a massive palm, and the dragon hopped onto it. “Pie? Sit.”
The dragon sat.
“Roll over.”
Pie rolled over.
“Play dead.”
The tiny creature fell onto its side, let out a dramatic puff of smoke and a sigh, and went completely stiff. It was very convincing.
“’S his best one,” Dave said proudly. He reached down and tickled Pie’s belly, which resulted in a squirming, chirruping dragon. It was bizarrely endearing, watching the massive orc grin around his tusks at his pet.
Calarian wandered over, holding out a finger, and Pie lighted onto it before flying in slow circles around his head and landing again. “A real dragon,” he said, awestruck. “Wait til I tell my friends!” He chucked a finger under Pie’s chin. “You’re going to feature in my next campaign. I’ll change it up. We’ll make a new game. We’ll call it... Houses and Dragons!” He frowned. “No, wait. That doesn’t sound right. Anyway, I’ll think of something.”
“He’s very, um... impressive,” Scott offered, edging closer again as if unsure of his welcome. “And I wasn’t being, you know,” he said to Ada. “I have friends who are dwarves.”
“Doubtful,” she sniffed, but she seemed less likely to take her axe to Scott’s throat, at least for now, and the palpable tension in the air eased.