Cimorene turned angrily, but before she could say anything, a large gray-green dragon on the other side of the stone slab said, “Nonsense, Woraug! Girl’s got more sense than that. You shouldn’t listen to gossip. Next thing you know, you’ll be chasing after that imaginary wizard Gaurim’s been on about.” Cimorene recognized the speaker at once. He was Roxim, the elderly dragon she had given four of her handkerchiefs to.

“I suppose it was that idiot Moranz again, trying to cause trouble,” a purple-green dragon said with bored distaste. “Someone should do something about him.”

“Kazul still hasn’t answered my question,” Woraug said, and his tail lashed once like the tail of an angry cat. “And I’d like her to do so if the rest of you will stop sidetracking the conversation.”

“Here, now!” Roxim said indignantly. “That’s a bit strong, Woraug! Too strong, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Woraug said. “I asked Kazul. And I’m still waiting.”

“I’m very pleased with my princess,” Kazul said mildly. “And no, I didn’t have to haul her back, as you would realize if you’d given the matter a little thought. Or does your princess normally leave seven servings of chocolate mousse in the kitchen when she runs away?”

“Hear, hear!” Roxim said.

Cimorene noted with interest that Woraug’s scales had turned an even brighter shade of green than normal and that he was starting to smell faintly of brimstone.

“One of these days you’ll go too far, Kazul,” he said.

“You started it,” Kazul pointed out. She turned to the gray dragon. “What’s this about Gaurim and a wizard, Roxim?”

“You haven’t heard?” Roxim said, sounding surprised. “Gaurim’s been raving about it for weeks. Somebody snuck into her cave and stole a book from her library. No traces, but for some reason she’s positive it was a wizard. Achoo!” Roxim sneezed, emitting a ball of flame that just missed hitting his bowl of mousse. “Gives me an allergy attack just thinking about it.”

“If it wasn’t a wizard, who was it?” the dragon at the far end of the table asked.

“Could have been anybody—an elf, a dwarf, even a human,” Roxim responded. “No reason to think it was a wizard just because Gaurim didn’t catch him in the act. Not with the amount of time she spends away from home.”

“Which book did she lose?” said the thin, brownish-green dragon next to Kazul.

“What does it matter?” the purple-green dragon muttered.

“Some history or other. And that’s another thing—what would a wizard want with a history book? No, no, Gaurim’s making a lot of fuss over a common thief. That’s what I say.”

“It could have been a wizard,” said the dragon at the far end. “Who knows why they want the things they want?”