DRAGONS

A dragon is never merely a dragon.

​

It has a name, a territory, a history, several grievances, and an exact opinion concerning where you are presently standing. Travelers who mistake one dragon for another rarely receive sufficient time to repeat the error.

​

Draconic names are formed in the throat and carried upon the breath. A dragon’s lipless mouth cannot shape every sound available to humankind, but it possesses both the breath and vanity required to compensate with considerable length. The oldest introduce themselves through names that may contain histories, victories, lineages, and titles accumulated across centuries. What portion of that name you are permitted to use is a precise measure of your standing.

​

Other peoples give them names of their own: the Long Shadow, She Who Counts the Ships, the Ash Beneath the Mountain. Such names describe the dragon’s place in local memory. They should not be used in its presence unless you know whether they are titles of reverence, insults, or warnings intended only for those still capable of fleeing.

​

Every dragon establishes a territory, though borders recognized by dragons seldom appear upon human maps. The signs are usually sufficient: prey abandoned after only the choicest portions were eaten, stone scored beyond the reach of any ordinary creature, smaller predators conspicuously absent, or a passing shadow that circles once before continuing onward. The absence of a visible boundary does not make the boundary imaginary.

​

A dragon’s lair is equally individual. Some occupy caverns, ruins, drowned chambers, volcanic hollows, or towers enlarged through centuries of patient labor. Others build. A constructed draconic lair—with doors, galleries, storerooms, and an audience chamber—is considerably more unsettling than a cave. It means the dragon planned for visitors.

​

Their hoards are often misunderstood. Gold is useful, certainly, but an ancient dragon may value a broken crown, an accurate map, an enemy’s final letter, a ship’s sealed cargo, or a worthless object whose meaning it refuses to explain. A hoard is not simply wealth. It is autobiography assembled in objects, and removing even the humblest piece may be received as the theft of a memory.

​

Dragons enjoy bargaining because negotiation permits them to demonstrate intelligence without diminishing power. They may trade passage, protection, knowledge, or a single favor. The price might be treasure, service, silence, a secret, or a promise. Of these, the promise is most dangerous. A dragon can wait longer than your kingdom, your bloodline, or your excuse.

​

Never assume that age produces wisdom, that beauty indicates kindness, or that cruelty prevents courtesy. Dragons are persons of tremendous scale and duration. Each must be understood individually, preferably from a respectful distance and after learning the correct pronunciation of its name.

​

The first dragon I encountered asked whether Lantern of the Thirteenth Word was my true name. I replied that it was the only name I offered professionally.

​

The creature considered this and smiled.

​

“Good,” it said. “Then we may begin with one lie already understood.”

​

That remains the most courteous introduction I have ever received from something capable of swallowing me whole.

​

—Lantern of the Thirteenth Word