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“I have thought of all those things.”

Bardon quite easily identified the stony mask on his friend’s face. He was sure his own face held a similar expression. A person of his rank in society did not allow frustration to contort his features. Nor did he let words explode from his mouth in unrefined anger. The two stared at each other, their breathing audible in the silence.

Regidor scratched the ridge above his eyes. “Do you want to go back?

Bardon pressed his lips in a firm line as he considered their options.

“No,” he said at last. “Let’s follow this to the end.”

The main tunnel curved to the right, no longer carved in a straight line, to some unknown destination.

“I’ve decided,” said Regidor, “that this is an abandoned tumanhofer settlement.”

Bardon compared what he had seen here with a visit he had made to the tumanhofer city of Dael. “I think you’re right. It must be very old and must not have been occupied for centuries.”

“Longer than that. I don’t recall seeing any mention of this in Librettowit’s history books.”

A heavy object—a blur of white—a tail!—slammed down between them as they passed a wide tunnel. The animal sped away, the tail disappearing into darkness.

They had their swords drawn. They listened to the heavy tread of the attacker as it moved farther and farther away.

“What was that?” asked Bardon.

“I think we may have found the snake dragon’s big brother.”

“Did you get a look at it?”

“Only the pasty white dragon tail.” Regidor replaced his sword in its sheath. “I wonder if it has two heads.”

“I wonder if it’s hungry.”

40

LITTLE DETAILS

Traveling through the burrows became a long and tedious task. One tunnel looked much like the last, and the monotony of the walls wore on the squire’s nerves.

“I’d much rather be flying,” he told Regidor.

“Ah yes. When I first started flying on my own I had no stamina, no endurance. Now I do pretty well at the long stretches.”

Bardon nodded, figuring his friend understated the case. He knew Regidor to be extremely agile and stronger for his size than any creature he had ever encountered.

“Here’s another drawing and the same type of writing beside it.” Bardon pointed to the inscription on the wall.

“Each battle scene is a tad different, Squire.” Regidor examined the scratched image. “In this depiction, there are seventeen tumanhofers battling the two-headed dragon. In the one previous to this, there were twelve, and in the first, there were only seven.”

“You counted?”

“Well, of course, I counted.” Regidor ran his fingers over the unreadable words. “The depth of this carving is deeper than the first or the second. The number of lines are less.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, the dragon has been larger in proportion to the crudely drawn men in each successive picture.”

“Regidor, you amaze me.”

The meech dragon smiled over his shoulder. “I used to amaze myself, but I am getting used to my genius as time goes by.”

Bardon stared at his friend for a moment before he recognized the humor in Regidor’s eyes.

Laughing, Bardon sank down to the floor. “I’m ready for a little break.” He pulled out his water flask and a packet of food.

Regidor sat beside him. Both of them leaned against the rock wall, and the meech pulled out his own provisions. He handed the squire an extra package.

The squire peeked inside. “Daggarts. Thanks.” He shifted to rest more comfortably against one of the spiraling grooves. “Have you thought about what was used to burrow these tunnels?”

“Yes.”

“And what was your conclusion?”

“Didn’t have one.” Regidor chewed a bite of bread. “What kind of cheese do you have?”

“Bordenaut.”

“I’ll trade you criantem for the bordenaut.”

“Deal.”

They exchanged hunks of cheese and sat resting while they ate. When he had almost completed his repast, Regidor brought out Glas’s diary. He thumbed rapidly through the pages and slowed down when he came to the section about the burrow. He skimmed several pages.

“That’s what I thought.”

“What?