‘Earthwise looked at him, a wisp of smoke escaping out of his nostrils and floating to the roof of the cave. Earthwise could see parts of the future too, and he knew that Shandar spoke the truth. They talked long into the night and then, the following morning, Earthwise bore Shandar to the seventy-eight ambassadors, who, much fearful of such close proximity to the Dragon, listened eagerly to the plan that had been drawn up. It was very simple. The Dragons were to have lands given over to them and they would be kept stocked with sheep and cows for the Dragons to eat. Each Dragonland would be surrounded by boundary stones protected by a strong magic that would vaporise a human if he or she tried to pass. For their part the Dragons agreed to give up eating people, stop torching villages and to leave townsfolk’s cattle and sheep well alone. The sole remaining Dragonslayer would be retained to keep an eye on things to ensure fairness, and if a Dragon transgressed the laws, the Dragonslayer would mete out any punishment.

‘And so it was agreed. The Dragonlands were established, stocked with livestock and marked with boundary stones. The last Dragonslayer was re-educated in her new role as peacemaker, Shandar took his twenty dray-weights of gold, and vanished. And that,’ concluded Mother Zenobia, ‘was the story of the Dragonpact.’

‘And what about the Mighty Shandar?’ I asked, never having believed that any story really had an end.

‘That was four hundred years ago. The Mighty Shandar retired to Crete with twenty dray-weights of gold, and spent the rest of his days conducting research. The Dragons’ numbers have been diminishing ever since. In the intervening years all but one of the Dragons have died of old age. As soon as they did, the marker stones that surrounded the Dragons’ territory lost their power, allowing men to reclaim the lands for themselves. Since Dragon M’foszki died eleven years ago, Maltcassion, who still resides in the Dragonlands not twenty miles from here, is the last of his breed. When he goes, the Dragon will be no more.’

‘What about—?’

But Mother Zenobia had vanished into a grey mist; abrupt teleportation was just one of her many skills. I looked behind me and could see her rematerialise inside the dining room. It must have been sausages, her favourite.

‘Did you log that as a B1-7G, Bernice?’ I asked her novice, who had been sitting close by. ‘We wouldn’t want to have an incident.’

She smiled.

‘I keep a close eye on the old sorceress, Jenny, don’t you worry.’