Dragons from the War of Souls by Margaret Weis Tracy Hickman

Author:Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman [Search for Power; Dragons from the War of Souls, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-06T16:00:00+00:00

Two years had wrought considerable change to the inn, now renamed “The Dragon’s Final Breath.” Dragon memorabilia that had once bedecked Skerrith’s wagon now adorned the common room, with dried claws and sun-bleached skulls and iridescent scales ornamenting every available surface and wall, and a vast dragon hide rug prominently featured in the center of the floor. But the place of honor on the mantel above the huge hearth was reserved for the famed “dragonlance,” known to all for leagues around for its role in eradicating the dragon that had once plagued Trader’s Lot.

Time had brought changes to the inn, along with three new owners. Ruby, who now had a different last name, had blossomed literally and figuratively, with a toddler to watch out for and that maternal plumpness that bespoke another on its way. Skerrith, too, had rounded during the past two years, although his was a case of eating well and living comfortably with his growing family.

The greatest transformation had come to Rag, who now preferred to go by his full name of Ragweed Pollenflower

Esq. He had taken to wearing what he considered the latest in high fashion, mixing satins and silks, velvets and brocades, all in a riot of contrasting colors, with plenty of lace reserved for his collars and sleeves. He liked to strut about the town by day with the air of importance once reserved for Mayor Dunnerth, basking in the awe his fellow citizens now bestowed on him, or to stand before the inn’s fire of an evening, one blue-booted foot propped regally on the edge of the hearth, regaling his eager listeners with tales of daring in the dragonslaying trade.

On this particular night Rag stood just that way, gesturing toward the mounted lance and telling a rapt audience the oft-told tale of how he single-handedly wielded the weapon that killed the dragon that had endangered the town and in the process had rescued Ruby and Skerrith.

Skerrith, who had learned to stand close to Rag when the kender began telling stories, leaned against the other side of the hearth, measuring the crowd over his partner’s topknot. It was another night of good business at the tavern Ruby had induced the other two to purchase with her, using the reward for slaying the dragon (which never reappeared in the vicinity to dispute its reported death). She had overcome Skerrith’s initial resistance to her suggestion of a partnership in the inn, by pondering aloud, ever so innocently, about the fate of the shell-game operator who had preceded Skerrith into town.

“What,” she had asked of the air, “would the townspeople’s reaction be to learning of an even greater deception?”

Skerrith hastily agreed that owning an inn was just the sort of retirement he was looking for. Marriage had followed soon thereafter, an arrangement Skerrith had found surprisingly natural and to his liking.

Even now, well after the incident on the mountaintop, patrons still gathered eagerly to hear Rag and Skerrith recount their differing versions of how they killed the creature before they “retired” and settled down as respected citizens of Trader’s Lot.

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