The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 68: My Holy War

It was Den – no, Densissimus Imber, the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond – who stepped forward to meet Baron Claymouth.

Even though I'd never seen them interact before, I doubted that in any previous situation, the baron would have fallen to his knees and genuflected before the neighbor whose partying caused so many noise complaints.

But it was different now. Den was different now. For one thing, he was much bigger. For another, he stood at the head of an army. And above all else, there was something more confident about him now. More purposeful. Regal, even.

Gone was that happy-go-lucky air, the sense that he cared about nothing beyond the next flask of ale that a fellow partyer would pass him, or the next rollicking tune that the musicians would play, or the next overly intricate step in the choreography of the Dawn Dance. There was pride in the way he carried himself, with his shoulders flung back, his head held high, and his neck arched so his pearl gleamed in the sun – not because he was displaying it like an insecure dragon who fretted over his own insignificance, but because letting it show was simply a consequence of his posture. And whatever you thought of its size was your problem, not his.

Here was a dragon who knew his worth.

I approved. I also congratulated myself on his transformation.

King Densissimus Imber gazed down at the ruler of the fief that surrounded his. "Baron Claymouth, please rise. There is no need for such formality between good neighbors."

The baron was too intimidated to react to the "good neighbors" bit. He got back to his feet and bowed low, almost as low as he had to Flicker and me. "You do me too much honor, Your Majesty."

Den accepted that as his due. "We have much to discuss, you and I, but first I must pay my respects to the Emissary from Heaven."

"Yes, of course." The baron stepped back to let him pass, bowing again like a seneschal in his own castle.

The taskforce must have decided on an order of procession beforehand, because without a word, Floridiana fell in behind Den, followed by the Jeks (with Mistress Jek holding Taila's hand to keep her from running off). Next came Bobo, slithering forward as gracefully as a bamboo viper could. The others had honored her seniority on the taskforce instead of relegating her to the back, I was glad to see. At some point while Flicker and I were addressing the crowd, Stripey had flown off and doubled around to join the taskforce. Now he was waddling along just behind Bobo. (Recognizing the leader of the bandits who plagued his people, Baron Claymouth frowned. Seneschal Anasius' mouth turned upside down. But neither dared comment.) Behind Bobo and Stripey came Masters Gravitas and Rattus, side by side in their human forms. The rat spirit was still half a head shorter than the cat spirit, who padded along with an inscrutable smile. I honestly thought that Master Rattus cut a more impressive figure as an oversized rat. Finally, Lord Magnissimus and Captain Rock brought up the rear.

When Den arrived at a spot below us that was close enough that he wouldn't need to shout, but far enough that he wouldn't need to crane his head upward at an undignified angle, he stopped and bowed deeply. Taking a cue from him, the others followed suit.

I'd wondered if they would genuflect, but perhaps a dragon couldn't stomach getting on his knees for a mere clerk. Or perhaps Den was canny enough, or had been advised by someone canny enough (probably Floridiana), to use this method to establish that he ranked above the baron. Either way, after a moment of consideration, I approved.

Glow more brightly, I whispered to Flicker, who whispered back, "I can't. I'm at full brightness."

Then pulse or something. Do something flashy.