Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Ah, Sybil.” Ronnie Rust stood straight and tall, holding out one big red hand. “Looking quite handsome this evening, what?”

Sybil smiled, but winced internally. She knew it was probably the best she could expect, but no sixteen year-old girl likes to be called handsome. Still, he meant well. “Thank you, Ronnie. So are you. Your moustache is very… symmetrical.”

Lord Ramkin descended the staircase behind her, and she winced again. “Well now, Master Rust. How is your father? Not still sore over our last duel, I hope?”

Ronnie straightened even more, if possible. “Good evening, Lord Ramkin. My father is well, thank you for asking. He sends his regards, and hopes you will join him at the midsummer hunt.”

“Of course.” Lord Ramkin cleared his throat and walked up to Ronnie, who broadened this time. “Now, lad. I expect you’ll be a gentleman with my girl tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Treat her like the delicate flower she is,” he added against all evidence. Sybil blushed and rolled her eyes.

“Of course, sir.”

“That your carriage out front?”

“Yes, it was a birthday gift from my uncle.”

“Looks sturdy. No stops along the way, mind you. Straight to the university, and straight back.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Lord Ramkin stroked his beard. “You’re planning on joining the regiments next year?”

“Yes, sir. My father says I must begin as a captain.”

“Good man. Work your way up the ranks.” Lord Ramkin clapped Ronnie hard on the back. “You’ll be a general in no time. Sybil, don’t get too close to those wizards, they can’t be trusted.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, sir,” said Ronnie before Sybil could respond.

“See that you do.”

Sybil sighed to herself. It was going to be a long night.

. . .

“Your… posture is exemplary,” Sybil said after a while. The coach bounced across the potholes, and Ronnie bounced up from the seat each time.

“I’ve practiced it daily since the day I learned to walk.”

“Oh my, that sounds dreadful.”

“Made me the man I am today.”

“Mm.” It surely did… Sybil looked out the window. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I was quite pleased to bring you along. The Ramkins are a fine old family, what?”

“Yes…” She paused. “I don’t dance often.”

“I expect your breeding will shine through.”

“Still, it’s nice to do something different now and then.” She smiled forcefully, then stood up quickly. “Stop the coach.”

“What?”

She threw open the door and thumped the roof. “Stop!” she commanded. The driver yanked the horses to a halt.

“I say, what are you –“

Sybil had jumped down, holding her blue silk skirts up to keep them out of the mud as best she could. She bore down on an old man selling his wares on the corner. He didn’t see her until it was too late, but quickly stood up as straight as he could and gave her a toothy grin.

“Evening, your ladyship. Exotic imports from all over the Disc! Can I interest you in a pendant from –“

“I say, is that a Retiring Smut!?”

The man looked around uncertainly, then picked up a scroll in a red leather case. “Your ladyship has an excellent eye for literature, this is –“

“Don’t be daft, man. The dragon!”

He blinked, then turned to a small birdcage behind him. The dragon inside shrank back with a tiny curl of smoke and a soft huff. It was nearly black, and tried to hide under its own little wings.

“Ohhh, the precious little thing!” She looked up. “I must have him.”

“Sybil, what are you doing!?” Ronnie blustered up to her. “Who is this… this man? Looks like a charlatan of the worst kind, what!”

“How much?” Her eyes bored into the salesman’s.

“I promised your father we would not stop on the way –“

“Er, ten gold?” the man said hopefully.

“I cannot allow you to –“

“I wasn’t asking your permission, Ronnie.” She flashed a sweet smile over her shoulder and pulled off a set of delicate silver bracelets set with sapphires. “I’m afraid I’m not carrying any coin, but I’m quite sure these are worth at least fifteen.”

The man’s eyes grew. He let out a little strangled sound.

“Sybil, don’t give this hooligan anything!”

The man glanced uncertainly at Ronnie, but Sybil stamped her foot.

“Don’t look at him, you’re making this transaction with me. Do we have a deal, sir?”

“Of course, lady!” the man said quickly. He took the bracelets and squirreled them away in his purse, then snatched up the cage and swung the dragon around. “I’ll throw in the cage for free!”

“I’ll ask you to throw it away, it’s not fit for a hamster,” Sybil sniffed. She opened the cage. “Come on now, handsome boy. You’re all right now.” The dragon cowered in the corner, so she reached in and pulled it out, tucking it quickly into her shawl. It whimpered and burrowed into her arm. “Thank you, sir. Poor little mite…”

“Sybil,” Ronnie said, trying to keep his voice level. “You cannot bring that… creature to the Wizards’ Excuse Me.”

She flashed him a dazzling smile. “Watch me.” Standing tall, she strode back to the coach and got in. Ronnie stood open-mouthed for a long moment before following her. She reached out and held the door open for him, which made him stop short.

“I can’t – you… you aren’t…”

“Oh get in, Ronnie. If we’re going to this party, let’s go.” She took pity on him and stopped holding the door, and only then did he reluctantly get into his own coach. They rode for a while in chilly silence. Or rather, Ronnie did. Sybil was gently rubbing the little dragon’s head ridges, feeling all over for any irregularities or injuries.

“That was unseemly, Sybil.”

“Poor little thing needs feeding, I wonder if they’ll have a few lumps of coal for a good boy!” she cooed softly.

“They… they won’t allow it inside!”

“Nonsense, Ronnie. He’s small enough to fit in my handbag! And the Retiring Smut is one of the shyest varieties, he must have been so frightened on that open cage with nowhere to hide! See, he’s already relaxing. He’ll be no trouble at all.” She beamed. He stared at her.

“Are you mad?”

“You know I’ve always loved dragons.”

“Yes, but… but flights of childhood fancy…”

“I seem to recall you always had quite a fondness for horses.”

“Well… my own horses, certainly. That doesn’t mean I’d buy any old nag with three feet in the glue factory…”

Sybil frowned sharply. “Don’t be rude, Ronald,” she said primly.

“I beg your pardon!”

“He just needs some proper care,” Sybil murmured, scratching under the little dragon’s chin.

“I can’t allow this.”

“Well then you can tell your driver to take us home,” Sybil said as they pulled up in front of the university. “It’s up to you.”

Ronnie stared at her. Then he stiffly got out and held the door for her. She did not take his hand to get down because she was holding the dragon in one arm and her skirts in the other.

The Great Hall was lit up with candles and colored balls of light. It wasn’t the most popular event in the city, though it was certainly the most popular one at the university. All the well-to-do citizens were invited, and most of them showed up. The older generation of the very best families felt it was a bit beneath them, which made it all the more appealing for the younger generations. Younger wizards skittered around eyeing a broader range of society than they normally had any truck with while the more senior wizards focused on the food. There was music playing somewhere, though no one was dancing yet.

Sybil scanned the room, and her eyes lit up when she recognized a few faces. “Serafine! Gussie! Viv!”

The three girls turned as she bore down on them. “Sybil,” Gussie said smoothly. “So good to see you. That dress certainly suits you.”

“Thank you, it’s such a nice color.” She smoothed the short train and noticed the spatters of mud around the hem. “Yours is so elegant. Like liquid gold.”

“What do you have there, Sybil?” asked Serafine with a toothy smile.

“Hm? Oh I don’t want to scare him, it’s quite noisy in here. I’m trying to think of a name, what do you think?” She turned and tucked back her shawl just enough to show a quivering snout and large eyes.

“By Io, is that a dragon!?” Viv exclaimed. All three of them took a step back.

“I saw him on the way here and couldn’t pass him up, isn’t he precious? He needs some fattening up, of course.”

“You brought… a dragon… to a ball,” Serafine said flatly.

“Oh no.” Sybil laughed. “You know wizards don’t have balls.”

The other three glanced at each other uncomfortably.

“Well perhaps you’d better… Look, I don’t think that should be in here,” Viv muttered.

“He’s just shy. A Retiring Smut, they’re famous for it. But you’re quite right, I should go find him something to eat. It was so good to see you all! I didn’t realize you were all here in the city!”

“Yes, we thought we’d spend our holiday here.”

“Well I live over in Pseudopolis Yard, you all must come by for tea some time!”

“Yes,” Serafine said slowly, eyeing the dragon. “Goodbye, Sybil.”

She heard the whispers and muffled giggle as she walked away. Ah well…

“Excuse me – sir?”

A scrawny wizard froze and turned to her. “Y-yes?”

“I was wondering if you could help me. I need a few lumps of coal. Charcoal would do, or even some partially burned logs if your kitchens have any.”

“Er.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll… just go and see. Excuse me.” He fled.

“There, that nice wizard will find you a treat,” she cooed, rubbing the dragon’s pointy shoulder blades. “Aren’t you a lucky boy?”

“Pardon me, I have to ask… who is a lucky boy?”

She turned and smiled. “Oh, Havelock! It’s been too long. Meet my new friend – he doesn’t have a name yet, but I’m thinking.”

The student assassin leaned forward from the shadow he stood in. “A dragon.”

“Yes, I bought him on the way here, I couldn’t leave him with that horrid man who didn’t know how to care for him.”

“Are you trying to eyeball the lady’s cleavage, Dog-Botherer?”

Havelock rolled his eyes a fraction, but Sybil turned and glared at a larger, broader assassin who was smirking at them. “Excuse me! That is hardly polite language!”

“Just looking out for your honor, my lady.” The other assassin bowed low. The little dragon hissed and squeezed around her arm, scuttling up her back to curl around her neck under her long curls. “Do you need rescuing from your current… situation?”

“No, thank you,” she said icily. “Who do you think you are?”

“Albert Downey, my lady.” He straightened up and offered his hand with a flourish. “Student assassin. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“I’m sorry, I was occupied. Please feel free to get started without me.” She smiled and turned back to Havelock, who was barely hiding his smirk. “He’s a Retiring Smut – a bit thin, but not injured at least. I suspect he’s got some level of metabolic bone disease and probably wandering spleen, just because people don’t know how to take care of them, but I’ll nurse him back to health. I’ve asked a wizard to bring some coal for him. I’m trying to think of an appropriate name for him – I could call him Havelock, because he likes to hide.” She grinned.

Havelock raised one thin eyebrow at the little dragon, who huddled on her shoulders. “I think not.”

“No, all right.”

“Will you be allowed to bring him to school with you?” Havelock asked, eyeing the dragon.

“There are no rules explicitly forbidding it. Girls bring their horses and such, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have him. How are you? Are you still enjoying the Guild?”

“I’m learning a lot,” said Havelock with a quiet smile. “More than I should discuss in public. And yourself?”

She sighed. “School is dreadful,” she admitted softly. “I try to be kind to everyone, but the other girls… well I’m afraid they’re the kind of people your classmate would get along with.”

“Classmates are temporary,” Havelock murmured, then glanced up at her. “…By which I mean, of course, that we shall all graduate and move on with our lives in short order.”

“Of course.” It was hard to resolve the sight of quiet, gentle Havelock with his soft hands and voice, with a student assassin who would kill anyone he was paid to one day, and possibly already had.

“M-ma’am?”

Sybil turned to find the scrawny wizard holding out a bucket of coal at arm’s length. She beamed. “Oh that’s perfect! You’re too kind. Thank you so much, mister…?”

“Rincewind,” he choked, spotting the dragon around her neck now.

“Rincewind! That would be a fine name for a dragon, don’t you think? The wind catching his wings as – oh, well, go on.” The dragon had slithered down her arm when she took the bucket and was devouring the coal. “He’s very hungry, you see.”

“I… see that.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t give him your name.” She chuckled. “Thank you again.”

Rincewind bobbed his head and fled. Havelock, who had been watching silently, melted back into the shadows again with a sharp smile.

“Sybil, I thought you might like a drink.” Ronnie Rust walked up with two thin glasses, spotted the dragon getting coal dust all over her arms and dress, and looked up in bewildered outrage. “That… creature is ruining your dress!”

“Oh never mind, he’s so happy to get something in his little belly!”

Ronnie stared at her. She watched the words pass right through him without catching on anything. “I’ll… I’ll just go… see about finding a servant to help you get cleaned up.”

“Don’t bother just yet, it’ll take him a while to finish. Slow down, you! You’ll get a tummy ache!”

Ronnie wandered off, vaguely confused. Havelock reappeared.

“Quite a charmer you came with tonight.”

She sighed. “He’s a bit of a cold fish,” she admitted, only because she knew he understood and wouldn’t judge her for the remark. “Could be worse, though.”

“You’re very kind.”

“I do my best. I’ll have to dance with him later, which neither of us will enjoy, but we all have obligations.”

“Indeed we do.”

“Perhaps I’ll tell him about my summer trip, that was quiet exciting! Did I ever tell you?”

“No, but I won’t make you repeat it twice in one night.”

“All right, well be sure you’re listening.” She laughed. The dragon burped a cloud of acrid smoke into the empty bucket, and a cloud of black dust rose. Havelock stepped back, but Sybil let it cover her.

“Perhaps washing up would be beneficial,” Havelock said tactfully. “If only to keep it out of your eyes.”

“You’re right… and my little boy could use a bit of a bath as well, he was so grimy when I bought him that I still don’t know his natural color!”

. . .

Ronnie did send a servant to find her, and once she’d finished cleaning off herself, her dress, and her dragon as much as she could, Sybil returned to the Great Hall. The dragon curled around her neck and fell asleep, and she fixed herself a plate of food. Ronnie joined her and regaled her with tales of his accomplishments while she worked her way through two and a half plates. When he finally paused for breath, she sighed.

“That’s fascinating, Ronnie, but if I don’t move around a bit I’m going to fall asleep. I believe you owe me a dance?”

“Ah… yes, of course.” Ronnie’s blue eyes took in her stained dress, the snoring dragon around her neck, and her mussed, dusty hair (which she’d forgotten to try to tidy up). He did owe it to her. He stood and offered his hand, and she took it.

There were a few other people dancing, and they found a clear spot easily. He was quite a good dancer, she had to admit. Better than her, if a bit stiff. They swirled gracefully around the floor.

“I was just thinking that I never told you about my holiday in the Wyrmberg, did I?”

“The… Wyrmberg?”

“Fabulous place. Packed full of magic. It’s a floating… island, of a sort. Or almost a hive. And they all have dragons! Not little ones like this, Draco nobilis! Huge beasts! I even made one of my own, it’s all down to believing! …They’re not real, of course.” She sighed in disappointment as he spun her out. “And they only exist within a certain distance of the Wyrmberg. Believe me, it was the biggest heartbreak of my life. Still, quite a thrill to conjure up my own dragon and then be able to fly on her back! I’ll never forget the sensation!”

Ronnie was staring through her, concentrating on the dance. He was rather like a toy soldier that you wound up and watched march around, but he didn’t know what else to do…

“Their leader was quite something, too. Liessa Wyrmbidder. I generally prefer more clothing, but to each her own, eh? I quite admired her, though I thought she was a bit too fixated on displays of power. That gets so tiresome, don’t you think?”

“Wh- I… well… But you see, a leader must keep his subjects in line,” Ronnie said, rallying at last. “Or… her subjects, I suppose. In any case, when one is leading others, they must respect whoever is above them.”

“Well yes, but fighting to the death seems a bit crude. Even if it’s done using imaginary dragons. There are so many other things dragons are capable of!”

The dance ended and Ronnie spun Sybil and dipped her just slightly. He did not lean in, which was rather a relief.

“Sybil, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell your father about that… creature. And what led to your obtaining it. And where your bracelets have disappeared to.”

“Oh don’t be such a stick in the mud, Ronnie!”

He puffed out his chest. “I have a responsibility to Lord Ramkin.”

“But not to me?”

“…What?”

She sighed. “No, all right. That’s very… honorable of you, I suppose. In a way. But I’ll tell him myself, thank you.”

“I really think I ought to –“

“Ronald.” She brought herself up to her full height, which was a few inches taller than him. He stiffened. “I will be discussing the events of tonight with my father when I get home. If you choose to repeat them afterwards, that is entirely up to you. …But you’ll look like a bit of a tit.”

Ronnie reddened and sputtered. Sybil smiled.

“Now, I think I’ll make another turn about the room and give you a chance to catch up with your friends. Oh, have you met that young gentleman over there? Albert Downey, he’s a student assassin. I can introduce you if you like”

“Wh – an assassin?”

“I think you two would get on famously. You could teach him some manners, he was speaking quite improperly in front of me.”

Ronnie reddened further and squared his shoulders, then stormed up to Downey, who was eating canapes and laughing with a friend.

“You’re more devious than I’ve given you credit for.”

She glanced over and smiled as Havelock stepped out of the shadows again. “I hope I’m not cruel… but I do need a bit of fun in my life now and then.”

“You certainly do,” he agreed. “And your dancing is quite acceptable as well.”

Sybil laughed. “Did you see me stomping all over his feet?”

“Only four times.”

“Exactly! I’ll spare you that experience.”

“You’d have to try much harder to step on my feet.”

“Because you are made of shadow and mist,” she said, smiling patiently. “Are you asking me to dance, Havelock?”

“No, because neither of us much cares for it.”

“Good.” She smiled, scratching the dragon’s chin, then quickly putting out the fire when he belched on her hair.