Abernathy stared in disbelief. “But the dragon doesn’t like us, Questor Thews! Have you forgotten that? He will roast us for a midday snack!” He paused. “Besides, what good will it do to learn anything more about the unicorn? The beast has caused us trouble enough as it is.”

“But if we understand its purpose, we might discover a reason for the High Lord’s obsession,” Questor replied quickly. “We might even find a way to reinstate ourselves at court. It is not inconceivable. And the dragon will not cause us harm. He will be happy to visit with us once he has learned our purpose in coming. Do not forget, Abernathy, that dragons and wizards share a common background as well. The nature and duration of our professional relationship has always dictated a certain degree of mutual respect.”

Abernathy’s lip curled. “What a lot of nonsense!”

Questor barely seemed to hear him. There was a faraway look in his eye. “There were games played between wizards and dragons in the old days that would challenge the faint of heart, I can tell you. Games of magic and games of skill.” He cocked his head slightly. “A game or two might be necessary here if Strabo chooses to be obdurate. Theft of knowledge is a skill I have mastered well, and it would be fun to test myself once more …”

“You are mad!” Abernathy was appalled.

But Questor’s enthusiasm was not to be dampened. He came to his feet, excitement in his eyes as he paced the circle of the fire. “Well, no matter. What is necessary must be done. I have made my decision. I shall go to the dragon.” He paused. “Bunion will go with me, won’t you, Bunion?” The kobold nodded, grinning ear to ear. The wizard’s hands fluttered. “There, it is settled. I am going. Bunion is going. And you must come with us, Abernathy.” He stopped, hands lowering, tall form stooping slightly as if from the weight of his sudden frown. “We must go, you know. After all, what else is there for us to do?”

He stared questioningly at the scribe. Abernathy stared back, sharing the look. There was a long silence while doubt and uncertainty waged a silent war with self-esteem in the old friends’ eyes. There were shadows of times they had believed past come back to haunt their present, and they felt those shadows closing inexorably about. They could not permit that. Anything was better than waiting for such suffocating darkness.

The ridgeline was still again, a dark spine against a sky of stars and moons that seemed cold and distant. The line shack and the stock pen were the bones of an aging earth.

“Very well,” Abernathy agreed, sighing his most grievous sigh. “We will all be fools together.”

No one spoke up to dispute him.

MASK

Sunrise found Fillip and Sot present and accounted for as promised. They were standing a good twenty yards away when Ben came awake, a pair of motionless, squat shadows in the fading dark, their travel packs strapped to their backs, their caps with solitary red feathers set firmly in place. They appeared bushes at first glance; but after Ben rose to stretch muscles cramped from the chill and the hard earth, they came forward a few tentative steps and gave anxious greetings. They seemed more nervous than usual and kept peering past him as if they expected an onslaught of Crag Trolls at any moment.