Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [15]
Vangerdahast rolled his eyes and stood. "If you're going to talk like that-"
"Oh, yes, go and starve to death!"
A tremendous boom resounded from the dragon's one visible nostril, and a fireball the size of an elephant went sizzling into the darkness. It crashed into a distant goblin manor, spraying blobs of melted stone in every direction.
Vangerdahast cocked a brow. "I won't be stepping in front of you, I think."
A scaly red lip drew away from the dragon's teeth, creating a snarl as long as some streams Vangerdahast had seen. "Die if you like, but leave your wishes for me."
Vangerdahast folded his hands behind his back, concealing the ring he had been contemplating earlier. "Wishes?"
"In the ring."A wisp of yellow fume streamed out of the dragon's distant nostrils. "Everything else you have tried, but the wishes are too dangerous. You don't understand this place, and if you wish wrong… puff, no more wizard!"
Vangerdahast frowned. "Have you been reading my mind?"
The dragon broke into a raucous chuckle, and clouds of boiling sulfur hissed into the plaza.
Vangerdahast waited until its mirth died away, then said, "Your point, I suppose, is that you do know the nature of this place?"
The yellow membranes closed over the basin in a sort of reptilian wink. "A long time I have been here," it said, "but you-even if there was food, humans do not live so long. If you are to leave, I think it must be with me."
Vangerdahast studied the beast for a moment, considering the kind of havoc he would unleash by helping such a creature escape. If the thing truly was as old as it appeared, its magical abilities would rival his own-and he had already seen what its fire breath could do. On the other hand, Cormyr was doomed without him, especially with the ghazneths loose and Princess Tanalasta still infatuated with that lowly ranger she had met-kin to the traitorous Cormaerils, he was, and a ground-splitting Chauntea worshiper as well.
Vangerdahast unclasped his hands and started down the stairs. "I suppose you have a name?"
"I do," replied the dragon, "but no human could understand it. You may call me Nalavara."
It was all Vangerdahast could do to avoid falling again. The name came almost directly from a chapter of Cormyr's earliest history-and not a very proud chapter at that.
"Something is wrong, wizard?" rumbled Nalavara.
Vangerdahast looked up and saw he had stopped moving. "Not at all-just weak with hunger." Hoping that Nalavara had not been reading his mind, he started down the stairs again. "But I would like to hear your full name, if I might."
The dragon's huge eye membranes drew closer together. "Why?"
"Human translations are so graceless." Vangerdahast reached into the component pockets inside his weathereloak and withdrew a pinch of salt and another of soot, then rubbed them between his fingers and uttered a quick little spell. "My understanding of Auld Wyrmish might surprise you. I have a special fondness for the beauty of the language."
"Do you?" Nalavara's eye remained narrow, but her long lips twisted into a crocodile's smile. "Very well."
She rattled off a long series of rumbling growls and fire-like crackles that Vangerdahast understood perfectly as Nalavarauthatoryl the Red.
"So, human, do you like my name?" asked Nalavarauthatoryl the Red.
"Sorry, didn't understand a word." Actually, Vangerdahast understood better than he would have liked. The name wasn't Auld Wyrmish at all but ancient Elvish. The phrase meant something like "the maiden Alavara, betrothed of Thatoryl, painted in blood." He forced a stupid smile and added, "The human ear can be a bit flat."
"One fault among many," Nalavara agreed. "And you are called…?"
"Elminster," Vangerdahast replied, lying through his teeth.