The day after the Battle of Chantrisdale, the Princes have left the
field, the main body of troops have returned in triumph to the city, but
Martin remains, overseeing the mopping up.

A short while before, the former Lord Marshal Antonio and his squire had
left for Amber, leaving no one else of note in Chantrisdale save Martin.
He could have gone back with them. He doesn't have to be here.

At the far end of the battlefield, the last bodies are being heaped onto
one of several funeral pyres.

Figures dressed in tatters and rags move among the debris of the
battlefield, scavenging for scrap metals and other items. They look up
furtively whenever the dragon's shadow paases over them.

At the downwind end of the battlefield, the first of the funeral pyres
are being lit. Slowly, the timbers catch, and pale smoky wisps drift
upwards from the damp wood.

Mordacious, who had been gliding overhead and idly following the
departure of Antonio and Niara, returns once more to lazily circling the
dale.

The dragon glides over to investigate whatever Martin might be doing, in
case it's interesting.

Martin seems to be moodily watching a group of boys collect relatively
undamaged arms and pile them for another group of boys to collate.
Exciting stuff.

As the dragon approaches, some of the boys look up in awe and one or two
manage to buck up the courage to wave and cheer, before snickering
nervously and ducking off.

Mordacious settles groundwards, trotting a bit as its feet touch ground,
then slows to a walk as it tucks in its wings and ambles over towards
Martin.

It would be difficult to fail to notice a dragon's arrival, so Martin's
lack of a response is probably deliberate. He sits on a rock, as before,
one leg stiffly resting against its edge, moodily contemplating the
battlefield.

Mordacious crouches next to Martin, still a good six or more feet higher
anyway, and looks at the pile of arms. "Disappointed?"

Martin shrugs, not looking up. "What's there to be disappointed about?"
he speaks up at length. "It's over."

Mordacious says, "I did mean the war. Perhaps I should mean something
else."

"So did I," Martin answers. He shrugs again. "So, spot any more giant
spiders, wierdshit bugs, or surprise columns of Virgan legionaries
anywhere?"

Mordacious says, "Nothing of the sort. Probably a few Virgans hiding in
the woods, but I wasn't looking for them." The dragon muses, "No giant
spiders, either. Pity. They taste delicious."

Martin turns, eyeing the dragon at that. A moment later, a hint of a
grin tugs at his mouth. "Fast as you are, I don't imagine you could
have, uh, eaten the entire swarm of them, though..."

Mordacious says, "I only got a few, in the tunnel Antonio and I found.
The rest ran away, and the tunnel made flying just a bit difficult."

The dragon sighs. "They tasted like sea crabs. But a lot bigger."

Martin allows himself a low chuckle. "Any chance you could cave in a few
of those tunnels?" he wonders.

Mordacious says, "Maybe. The one we explored was quite extensive,
though."

Martin nods to that. "We'll need to take a closer look at those soon, I
suspect. See if we can work out where they originated. Maybe find out
where they've all run away to."

Mordacious says, "I would not be averse to knowing such, save that I
found the tunnels far too cramped for my liking."

Martin hmms, mulling over that some more. "Pity, you're a good man to
have around," he flashes a grin.

Mordacious eyes Martin, expression caught between amusement and mild
indignation. The dragon changes the subject. "What will be done with the
Virgan prisoners?"

Martin's response is a tired chuckle. Then, "The officers will be
interrogated, the rest imprisoned for such time as the big boys get it
into their heads we don't have the means to keep them." A shrug, "They
may be repatriated to Virga if Virga concedes to pay us for the trouble
of doing so.

"Eventually," he adds.

Mordacious says, "Benedict wants to talk to me, when he is no longer
occupied."

Martin doesn't answer for a time. "Benedict isn't fond of surprises," he
considers. "I'm guessing he wants to know more about you. What your
service to Amber entails, and how he can put you to best use.

"Who else has been trying to make good use of you, that sort of thing."
Martin tosses off.

Mordacious looks at the pile of weapons. "I find it disgruntling to be
so casually considered a resource."

Martin mms, settling back into his previous moodiness. "Well, you had
your chance to take that up with the King during the battle."

Mordacious says, after some silence, "That might have been
misinterpreted."

Martin lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Maybe," he says, stretching a
little, "But it might have been fun."

Mordacious smiles, a little. "High stakes."

"Possibly," Martin answers, speculatively, amused. "But isn't that what
keeps things interesting?"

Mordacious says, "When your... opponent can tell the weather what to do,
it gets too interesting." "And he is, strangely likable. Not at all like
Oberon."

Martin frowns up at the dragon, the lazy smile vanishing. Turning back
to stare out across the battlefield with an "Oh?"

Mordacious says, after more silence, "Oberon was Master, and that was
the only manner in which I knew him."

"Must have been tough," Martin says after a time.

Mordacious says, "It was irritating. But there was also certainty."

"Yes," Martin says quietly.

Mordacious says, "Are you displeased?"

Martin raises a quirked brow at the dragon. "What should I be displeased
about?"

Mordacious says, "You seem ill-dispositioned towards something. I
considered the possibility it was myself."

Martin shakes his head. "No, not you." A pause. "The loss of certainty,
perhaps."

Mordacious says, "I find flying helps, at least for a while. Flying and
swimming is even better."

Martin eyes the dragon for a long moment, then looks away again,
chuckling. "I bet." He sighs, and prepares to slide off his rock and
onto his good leg. "As options go, they're pretty limited to some."

Mordacious says, "True. Still, as a passenger, should you ever wish it,
you would be no burden."

Martin's gaze drifts back to regard Mordacious curiously. "Thank you,"
he says simply, after a thoughtful pause.

Mordacious stands, and scratches idly. "Unless there is something we
should speak of, I would depart to seek dinner."

Martin nods. "Good hunting, then Mordacious.

"I appreciate the offer," he adds quickly, a touch awkwardly.

Mordacious smiles, "Good hunting to you as well," and pads a short
distance away to launch aloft.

Martin slips the last few inches off the boulder, leaning against the
stone to watch the dragon's departure.

Once aloft, the dragon ascends quickly, heading north, and is soon out
of sight.

Martin watches until the dragon's a speck in the sky, and then less than
that even. With a deep breath, he tucks the crook of the crutch under
his arm and sets off at a odd, swinging gait across the battlefield.

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04/10/98