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.It is time and past time to return her to the wild! Another hatchling is nearly old enough for firebreath.It's better to suspend production of coin for a short time than risk both the dragon and the mint."Rhodea nodded thoughtfully."I agree.You have my permission to release this dragon as soon as the spells of transportation can be arranged.But do not release it into the Calimshan wastes, as usual.Mulhorandi recently sent some of their finest citizens to call.Perhaps we should return the courtesy."Shocked silence fell over the contentious pair.They exchanged glances and began to grin like urchin conspirators.Rhodea chuckled and moved on.She strode over to the main vat to observe the dragon.The creature was still young, no more than twenty feet long and covered with bright red scales.Mithril chains and unbreakable spells kept the creature secure during its brief servitude.The dragon seemed tame enough, breathing gouts of flame at the base of the enormous vat whenever the dwarves on the scaffolding above shouted for it.Rhodea looked up.Four dwarves, working two to a wheel, turned the crank that stirred the simmering brew.Another dwarf stood on a lower level of scaffolding, adjusting the knobs that opened a circular hole near the top of the kettle.Gleaming silvery liquid poured down a long trough toward a smaller kettle, where still more dwarves scooped out the rapidly cooling metal and smoothed it into plates.Much of the work was done by dwarves.They were the only creatures who could abide the intense heat.Even so, their bearded faces were nearly as red as Rhodea's famed tresses.Suddenly a terrible stench filled the room, like that of a thousand well-rotted eggs.Rhodea spun, her hand clamped to her mouth, toward the source.The dragon held its post, its eyes still magic-glazed into quiescence, its breath still coming in regular bursts.But the dragon's scales were no longer the clear, bright red of early adolescence but a verdant green.Its breath yielded not fire, but a noxious yellow cloud.Rhodea gasped in astonishment The sudden intake of foul air sent her into a paroxysm of coughing.The dwarves on the scaffolding were harder hit, coughing violently and teetering on their perch like drunkards.One of them lost his grip and fell into the molten ore with a terrible scream.Bright droplets of liquid metal splattered the dragon.Pain jolted the creature free from the protective spells.It began to roar and struggle.Its tail lashed, knocking the supports from under the vat.The vast kettle tipped, sending a killing river of silver spilling slowly over thе wooden floor.Wooden scaffolding burst into flame, and fire darted up the tapestries that softened the stone walls.In less than a heartbeat, the promise of wealth was transmuted into a death threat.Rhodea reached for her Elder's ring, which would transport her immediately to the safety of Zalathorm's court.Frantically she sought her daughter.Thalia stood too near the silvery lava.Rhodea would never reach her in time.The wizard tore the ring from her hand and poured all her considerable strength into the family battle cry.Thalia spun toward the sound and instinctively caught the ring her mother hurled toward her.Rhodea Firehair watched her daughter fade from the room, then turned to face the white wave of heat that preceded the killing flood.A warrior died with weapon in hand.Rhodea drew her sword and strode toward the light.* * * * *Word of the mint's destruction spread quickly, nearly as quickly as the molten ore and the fire that swept its wake.Procopio Septus read the report again, muttering under his breath about incompetent fools, but in truth, he didn't understand how this thing could have come to pass.Many of Halruaa's mages frowned upon the use of dragons in the smelting process.The creatures were as tame as dragons would ever be, hand-raised from hatchlings and warded with powerful protective spells."A visitor, Lord Procopio."The wizard looked up, frowning."I am not at leisure," he told his steward."He tells a most interesting tale," the man persisted."He claims to have fought his way out of the Unseelie realm."Procopio's jaw fell open.He knew of Dhamari Exchelsor's disappearance.He knew also that the wards on the wizard's tower had been breached.The militia had searched and found no one, but there was clear evidence of theft.The magical wards had not yet been examined to determine the identity of this thief-the Lord Mayor had higher priorities.It had not occurred to him that Dhamari himself might be the "thief."He quickly mastered his surprise."Let him come.I am in need of a bit of diversion."The steward showed in a small, slight man.Procopio knew him only by sight and had always considered him an unassuming little man, hardly worth the time and trouble under ordinary circumstances.Procopio exchanged the courtesies that protocol demanded.Even a great wizard was required to acknowledge lesser men, and Procopio was politically astute enough to court all men to some degree.Even a mediocre wizard could be a supporter, and at this pivotal moment Procopio needed every man and woman he could muster.He smiled at the little man with a cordiality he did not feel."I hear you have an interesting tale.""Yes," Dhamari said dryly."Your steward seemed to find it amusing.I don't suspect your credulity will stretch much farther.Be that as it may.I haven't come to discuss such things.I can tell you about the death of Rhodea Firehair, the self-declared champion of our current king."Though the little wizard was being far from subtle, Procopio ignored the treasonous remarks.He steepled his fingers and gazed mildly over them at his visitor."I have heard reports of the fire.""Would you like to hear precisely what happened?""Please.""Those who examined the ruins of the mint saw only the charred bones of a young dragon," Dhamari said without preamble."It did not occur to them to inquire what color the dead dragon might have been.""I fail to see the point.""The dragon was shapeshifted from red to green.This detail will not be in any report you might read."Procopio leaned back, beginning to see where this was going and, for the first time, truly interested in the little wizard's words."The raw ore came from an area with heavy mineral deposits.When the dragon was changed from red to green in mid exhalation, its fiery breath changed to gas.This mingled with the gases rising from the vat and formed a poisonous and extremely volatile miasma.I imagine the dwarves working over the kettle dropped like stones.""You have a disturbing imagination," Procopio murmured."Yes, I can envision the scene.The kettle knocked over, and the heat from the molten ore set the place afire.The gas incapacitated the workers, cutting off their spells and their escape.A grim but effective ploy, yet it has one rather large and glaring fault.Assuming you're right, the magic that would transmute red dragon to green would have to be a necromancer's spell of enormous power [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]