The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3)

“Hey! I’m amazing. Just because you—”

The dragon on the wall roared. The room shook around us. The lights were hissing on the ice and going out. The cave was growing darker.

“Look!” I cried. “I’m not here to hurt you. Maybe the star dragon told you about me? That I’d be coming to ask for your help? That I would need—”

“Oh my goodness,” a distinctly female voice s

aid from behind us. “He’s just dear. I want to wrap him up and keep him forever. Can we keep him? I would like to keep him.”

Randall and I turned slowly toward the voice.

The dragon sitting on the cliff was staring down at us, tail still twitching, eyes bright as it watched us. The claws on its front legs were curled over the edge of the cliff, razor-sharp, causing deep scratches in the ice. But its head was cocked, and it no longer looked like it was about to attack us. It was… curious.

“Um,” I said. “Hello?”

“Hello,” the dragon said.

And yeah. Still not something I was used to.

“No,” another female voice said from behind us, though this one was deeper, harsher. “We cannot keep him. He is a human. He is a weak and frail thing. Just look at him. He looks sickly. He smells bad too.”

“I do not smell bad,” I said, outraged. I whirled around. “I’ll have you know that I smell—eep!”

The dragon on the wall had craned its head toward us, and I could see it was entirely covered in feathers. The lights were almost completely out, but the feathers on its head and neck were the bright blue of a summer sky.

“You are supposed to be the great wizard?” it said, lips rippling over spiky teeth. “I know the man at your side, but you? You are nothing but a child.”

“Rude,” I said. “So I choose to take it as a compliment about how youthful I look. Thank you.”

“Oh my,” the dragon behind us said. “He makes me just want to die. I must keep him. Please, please let me.”

“He’s foul,” the wall dragon said. “I would not have him soiling our lair.”

“I just took a shower yesterday—”

“But,” the wall dragon said.

“Ohh,” the cliff dragon said. “I like it when you say but. Do it again.”

“But,” the wall dragon said.

“Ooh,” the cliff dragon said.

“What is even going on right now?” I asked.

“But,” the wall dragon said, “what if there was a way to make him smell better?”

“Do I really smell that bad?” I asked Randall. “I mean, you only have old-man soap at Castle Freeze Your Ass Off, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I don’t know why you can’t just get the soaps they sell at the City of Lockes. Those ones have cool names like Wolf Thorne and Manticore Madness. Those are man soaps.”

“What would make him smell better?” the cliff dragon breathed.

The wall dragon bared its teeth. “Fear.”

“I am sufficiently scared now,” I squeaked, taking a step back.

“Oh,” the cliff dragon said as it stood on all four legs. “That’s right. It makes the meat sweeter too.”

“I’m going to be honest,” I said as I reached for Randall. My hand curled into the front of his robes. “My meat is probably really sweet right now. Which is not something I ever expected to say to dragons in an ice cave, so yay! New experiences and all. Hey, Randall?”