Stomp was proud of herself for convincing the guards that Silver was harmless. None of the others would have been able to pick up a dragon that size, and the ruse likely wouldn’t have worked without a display of docility. Thankfully Silver had acted the part.
Now the young dragon was parading around calmly, and Stomp was keeping a wary eye out for trouble. People stared. None got close or said anything loud enough for Stomp’s (useless, human) ears to hear, but they watched the dragon go by. They also paid attention to the flying carpet, though not nearly as much.
All I can do is be ready, Stomp thought. If people make an issue of it, maybe we can have Silver ride on the carpet too. That would probably look more contained.
Poor Silver. This has got to be humiliating.
As Stomp watched, the dragon’s snout lifted, smelling the air. Stomp worried, then heard the report of “Food, that way.” Razorscale turned on his heel and led the group in the new direction.
Oh good. I hope it’s not too much of a detour. We were going southeast before, so now we’re— Oh, I can’t tell! Stomp’s mood lifted briefly before plunging again. It was bad enough trying to keep watch when she couldn’t see behind her. She didn’t need another reminder that her minotaurian sense of direction was gone.
The smell of food was soon enough to distract her. Burnt meat predominated, which was off-putting to say the least, but the sweet scent of fruits and wilting leaves were there too. Something was probably edible.
When the row of food stalls came into view, both Twig and Windmane exclaimed in delight. Before they could rush off, Razorscale put up a commanding hand.
“We don’t have money,” the dragon reminded them.
“I have some,” piped up Beak, reaching for her bag, but Razorscale shook his head.
“Don’t use it yet,” he said. “You lot make yourselves comfortable on those benches — roll up the carpet; we don’t want to attract more attention than we have to — and I’ll go have a word with one of the vendors. Figure out what you want to eat. I’ll be right back.”
Stomp moved to go with the others, but Razorscale stopped her.
“The next time we need to intimidate someone,” he told her, ”You get to be the muscle. These humans make such a fuss over magic use that I’d be wise to keep that hidden when possible. So be prepared.”
He gave her a sharp look and strode away, leaving Stomp to have a private crisis there in the road.
He wants me to act like a bull? she thought, But I’m not a bull! I couldn’t— That’s not who I am!
She managed to stumble after the rest of the group, and join them as Windmane was moving from carpet to bench. The centaur picked up on her distress right away.
“What’s wrong?”
“He wants me to be the bull,” she blurted.
“What?” Windmane at least seemed to recognize the significance of this, even if Twig looked confused. Beak and Silver wore blank expressions.
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Stomp explained. “He said I should be the one to intimidate people, instead of using his magic. That I should ‘be the muscle.’ That’s a bull’s job, to scare off threats!”
Beak cocked her head, birdlike. “Why is that a problem?”
“Because I’m not a bull!” Stomp said, louder than she meant to. “Does he expect me to change my whole gender identity just so he can keep the magic secret?”
Windmane reached out a hand. “I don’t think he knows what he’s asking. Dragons don’t work like that. I think they’re basically all bulls.”
Beak snorted. “That would explain a lot.”
Silver stepped away, and Stomp belatedly realized that Razorscale was coming back.
Windmane caught the dragon’s attention. “Hey, we have a concern,” she said.
“It can wait,” Razorscale declared, before turning to Silver with instructions to get out the spare rocks that hadn’t been made into glow-charms yet.
Stomp waited uneasily while the young dragon enchanted a pair of them to do something else. She didn’t catch what. Her attention was elsewhere.
When the charms were ready, Razorscale went right back to the stall-owner he’d been talking to. It was one of the few stalls without a line. Stomp didn’t register what it sold.
Razorscale returned with money. “I hope you’ve all figured out what you want.”
Windmane spoke first. “About what you said to Stomp—”
“I’m not a bull!” Stomp burst out. “I can’t be the one to protect the herd!”
Razorscale shook his head, enunciating clearly. “What?”
“That’s not who I am! I know things must work differently for dragons, but I just can’t—”
“Just.” Razorscale closed his eyes. “Just stand behind me and look strong. That is all I am asking. You don’t even have to talk, just glare.”
“But I’m—”
Razorscale opened his eyes wide. “I don’t care! Just do your part to keep people from bothering us, so we can get this whole mess over with!”
Stomp tried to think of an objection that wasn’t repeating what she’d already said. “But—”
Windmane put a gentle hand on her arm. “He’ll be the bull,” she said gently. “You just have to stand with him and look mad.”
Stomp laughed helplessly, spreading her hands.
Razorscale apparently considered the matter settled, since he looked at Twig directly and asked, “Who’s ready for food?”
“Hooray, food!” The pixie leapt to his feet. “They’re doing something with apples over there that looks amazing!”
Windmane distracted Stomp from her worries by requesting help in getting back onto the carpet. Stomp obliged while Razorscale gave directions for everyone to meet back at the same spot once they’d acquired food. He gave a portion of the money to Windmane (“For you plant-eaters”), then went off with Silver and Beak to find meat.
Stomp was happy to let Twig lead the way. The pixie had apparently already noticed several places with appealing food. Well, appealing to him, anyway. The apples turned out to be dipped in caramel, which just sounded to Stomp like tooth problems waiting to happen.
Other stalls had cups of sliced fruit, toasted skewers of vegetables, and small tubs of leaves in white sauce. The three not-humans got some of everything, and went back to the benches to try it. Twig was munching happily on his caramel apple on the way.
“Well, this is vile,” Windmane declared after her first bite of the salad. “I don’t know what they made that white stuff out of, but it does not belong on lettuce.”
“I dunno, I kind of like it,” Twig said, to no one’s surprise.
Stomp picked out a leaf for an experimental nibble. The sauce was unpleasant, though not as bad as Windmane made it out to be. She shrugged.
Windmane noticed her silence. “It’ll be okay,” she said gently.
Twig spoke around another mouthful of salad. “I’ll help! I can be scary too when I want to be. Look at this scowl.” The face he made was so comical that Stomp laughed despite herself.
“Yeah, we can all be intimidating together!” Windmane said. “I’ll glare down at people from above, Twig can do whatever that was, and you can just cross your arms and show off your muscles. It’ll be a herd effort.”
“Yeah!” Twig agreed. “Beak would probably have fun flapping her arms at people like wings.”
“Well,” Windmane said, “Maybe. She’s good at glaring, at least. And with Razorscale threatening to bite everybody, nobody else will even need to talk!”
“Thanks,” Stomp said with a weak smile. “That does make it better.”
“We’re in this together,” Windmane told her. “Hey, looks like they’re on their way back. Let’s see if any of these fruits are edible before those weirdos stink up the air with more fish.”