"Follow," the chieftain said and began walking downhill.

They approached his tent. The buffalo hides were painted with scenes of hunters and bison. When they stepped inside, Raem found lion pelts upon the ground, a crackling fire in the center, and statuettes of voluptuous women—their hips wide, their breasts hanging low—carved of stone. A living woman lay upon a rug, not as luscious but attractive enough, her breasts painted with blue rings, her thighs red with bite marks. Zerra sent her fleeing the tent with a kick.

"You speak dangerous words, stranger," said Zerra. He limped toward the campfire, pulled out a burning stick, and extinguished it inside his burnt hand, perhaps an attempt to impress his guest. He waved the smoking branch. "Why are you here?"

Raem lifted one of the female figurines. He caressed the stone form, remembering his wife. It had been years since he'd seen Anai, since he had caressed her body like this. He had caught his wife shifting, and she had fled him to these northern lands, to this very tribe, her reptile spawn Laira with her.

"Two weredragons traveled with you," Raem said. "A woman named Anai. A child named Laira. The woman was my wife, the child my daughter."

Zerra barked a laugh, a horrible sound. "I bedded them both. Here in this tent. The child was particularly willing. Thrust right into her, nearly broke her. The poor thing screamed."

Raem placed down the statuette and frowned. The chieftain stared at him, mocking, caressing his sword.

He's goading me, Raem thought, refusing to take the bait.

"If you catch Laira again," Raem said, "you may bed her as much as you please, so long as you give her to me once she's worn out. Then she would be mine to torment."

The chieftain smirked and tossed another branch into the fire. "Your wife is dead. I killed her myself. The maggot child escaped."

Raem raised an eyebrow. "And you are such a mighty warrior that you cannot capture her? The whole north is speaking of this . . . escarpment. Of this canyon in the stone, a network of caves of some sort. They say it's a fortress." Raem snorted. "And they say you fear to fly there."

Zerra spun toward him, enraged. He drew another flaming branch and waved it. "I fear nothing! Nothing, metal man. The rocs refuse to fly there; the birds are cowardly. You claim to be some king? Fly there yourself. Fly upon that malformed demon of yours. The escarpment is swarming with the reptiles."

"My bat is swift but small, barely larger than a mule. Your rocs are larger than dragons. Do you want more treasures of bronze? Then you will get your rocs to fly." Raem clutched the man's shoulder and sneered. "I will make you a king in the north, but first you will slay dragons for me."