I lurked. I wasn’t sitting at my usual table in the Swinging Cod; I’d moved over to a far corner and was wearing a heavy cloak, hood pulled up over my head, nursing a drink I’d produced from my possum pocket. Thick leather gloves covered my hands, containing my sparkly glory.

  The “kids” as I’d come to think of them, and I had arrived back at Mount Bob as the sun was setting, and I was pleased to discover that my new undead miners had been able to carve out roosts for the others in the meantime. Kat, with a sense of humour I felt was overrated, had had them carved in very specific places, which spoiled my mood.

  Three were in an inverted V shape, perhaps twenty metres below the entrance to mine, and the other two were in a line below the point, creating a giant arrow aimed directly at my own lair. I had been unamused. On the plus side, I now had a ring that prevented the array of mana-cannons and shields Tim had hastily installed at the entrance to my roost from incinerating me, or from blocking me from flying in, so I was reasonably happy with my new home security arrangements.

  The pub was busy. Tourists, adventurers, and merchants, all dressed in different colours and styles, packed the seats. A number of them came and went through the portal, flashing a chit to the bunnyborgs on guard duty as they passed. It was good to see that things were taking off in that regard.

  Quiet conversations, broken by the occasional boisterous adventurer bragging about their floor clear time, filled the air and mixed with the smoke and smell of spilt booze. I’d positioned myself very specifically. I had a clear view of the door and a clear line of approach for when it happened.

  While I waited, I drank and fretted, fretted and drank. This shouldn’t be happening. These feelings weren’t normal. I was a dragon, glorious and terrifying, not some angst-ridden teenager. Yet here I was, fretting and drinking.

  The door opened, and I tensed. A cloaked woman entered and swept back her hood to reveal blond hair, causing me to relax. Not her. My hands opened and closed under the table. Someone had cleared the arachnoshroom floor in under ten minutes, which was a new record, and I turned to glare at the man as he declared how second-rate my dungeon was. From within the shadows of my hood, he must not have been able to see my face. It had been a good glare, one of my best.

  “Bob?”

  I jumped to my feet and spun around to find Esme grinning at me. Of course, she wouldn’t have to use the front door.

  “Ah, hi. Can we talk?”

  “Sure, love. But first…” she pushed my hood back and leaned in close to give me a lingering kiss. Sparkles erupted from the contact, causing a number of leering jeers to sound from nearby tables.

  “You got a problem, pal?” I snapped.

  The adventurer laughed at me. Me!

  “Did you roll in magi-glitter or something, bloke? Oh, nah, you did it with a pixie, didn’t you? Bloody perv!”

  I fixed him with Hunter's Gaze, my eyes flashing purple, and his muscles locked up, his own eyes suddenly rolling in terror as he looked for a way to break the effect of the skill.

  “Esme. I know I’m sparkly now. Do you think you can still find it in you to love… this?” I pulled off my gloves and clapped gently, making glowing motes explode around my hands.

  She gently took my hands in hers and guided me back into my seat, then plopped down into my lap, running a hand back through my hair. “Is this why you’ve been staying away? Bloody fool.” She chuckled throatily, a noise that usually preceded intimate-fun-times, as I’d come to think of them.

  “But… It’s awful! Wait, you already knew?”

  “Of course. Jenny told me about this. Girls talk, you idiot.” If there was one person in the world I wouldn’t kill and reanimate repeatedly for calling an idiot, it was Esme. “And Kat is a girl as well. There’s something else you haven’t told me.” Her voice had become stern.

  “Erm, I’m kind of running a day care for a bunch of other dragons?” She raised an eyebrow but shook her head. “I won a big battle?” Another shake. “I raised a bunch of Dank Dwarves from the dead, and I’ve got them working in my mines?”

  “That… is news to me. Really?”

  “It seemed like the easiest way to win the fight.” I shrugged. “Besides, they’re assholes, so it’s ethically fine according to Bulb.”

  “Not that.”

  I racked my memory. I’d done a lot of stupid shit recently. My main problem was that I didn’t know which stupid things she knew about, and I risked sharing any number of the dubious decisions she was ignorant of, thus earning her ire. It was, in short, a trap.

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  “I’ve been invited to the next big battle? It’s really not normal how they organise that shit in this world.”

  “The egg, Bob.” Now I was on the receiving end of a very solid glare. Eight out of ten. The effect was only spoiled by how pretty she was, making it hard to feel too intimidated.

  “Oh, that’s sorted. I left it with the head of the TOTS. She’ll sort it out. I don’t need to eat gerkhins anymore either, which is frankly a relief.”

  “You didn’t tell me.” Hurt, she sounded hurt. Shit.

  “I didn’t want to freak you out.”

  “You didn’t tell me I was going to be a mother?”

  “This conversation usually goes the other way. I’m confused.”

  “You should have discussed it with me before deciding to abandon our baby with some stranger. Did you even vet this dragon?”

  “I couldn’t exactly ask for her resume!”

  A gentle slap to my cheek sent a shower of sparks out around us. “You’re going to take me to meet her. A woman knows these kinds of things, I’ll be able to tell. And we should bring the egg back here. I don’t want to miss a minute of it!”

  “Erm, you know it’s not going to be a baby, right? It will be an outremonde, and have all the memories from however long they lived before. And they probably weren’t a great person; becoming a dragon is a punishment.”

  “You turned out all right, aside from keeping secrets. C’mon, let’s head through to the meeting. Creville and Neville have a plan they want to discuss with you.”

  She stood up, and I followed suit, heading through to the kitchen with her hand held in mine. That had been a lot less painful than I'd been expecting it to be.

  “What plans?” I asked suspiciously as we threaded our way through the packed tables.

  “You’ll see.”

  In light of the fact that I probably wouldn’t get anything more out of her, I let it go as we pushed through the curtain into the kitchen to find the rest were already waiting.

  Benton sat scowling at Creville, who was quietly chatting with Neville about different types of hops and how they affected the ale's flavour. Kat was perched on the back of a chair, yellow tail wagging slightly to maintain her balance, blue sparks jumping out periodically.

  “Service!” called a voice from the bar.

  “I’ll be right back, sweetie. Coming!” Esme returned to the bar, the curtain swishing behind her.

  “Bob. What were you lurking in the pub for?” Kat asked in a sweet voice.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, nodding to them all and taking a seat. Jenny pulled a tray out of the oven and dished up some pastries that went in the middle of the table before she sat down.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Any other secrets you’ve been blabbing about, Kat?” I grumbled. “Just want to know what I should stop worrying about.” I pulled back a chair with a scraping sound and sat down, crossing my arms and glaring at my pixie-domo. She flashed me an innocent smile, the red circles on her cheeks creasing.

  “Oh, I don’t know what you want kept secret, so it’s hard to be sure what I can and can’t talk about. So, I hereby call to order the first annual meeting of the board of Bob’s Eateries and Networked Transport.”

  “I don’t like the acronym,” muttered Benton. A ping rang out as a spitoon, especially placed by the hearth for the occasion, received a sniper's shot of spittle from ten feet away.

  “BENT is going to do great things. The market is growing steadily, we’re up to ten permanent stallholders, and we’ve issued hundreds of travel chits. Footfall has risen by fifteen per cent on average for the three establishments. Creville, I think you’ve seen the best of it?”

  “I have. Up twenty-three points. Longbottom is flourishing under the Hardprick. Cement isn’t fancy, but it’s always in demand, and now that the tax rate is more reasonable, local businesses are recovering as well.” Creville leaned back and took a sip from his ale, smacking his lips, before devouring one of the hot pastries. “We reached out to cousin Beville at the Long Horn. I think we should bring him in. Offer him a fifty per cent buyout and set up a portal in the city. But that is going to bring us into contact with the Quaestors and the local criminal elements.”

  “The food will be the catch for Bev. One bite of Jenny's buns and he’ll be sold,” Neville said, helping himself to one as he spoke.

  “With Dad helping as well, I can cover food for another pub, but after that, we’ll need to expand the kitchens.”

  “I’m going to designate a floor in the dungeon for everything related to the pubs. Kitchens, breweries, whatever we need,” Kat added. “We can run portals for internal use directly from it without worrying about the crystals getting low on mana.”

  “A permanent portal in the capital might be a problem. There are rules about it,” I interrupted.

  “You need to have a meeting with Light Invincible before he goes back to the city. He’s still not right in the head, but he’s mostly sane,” Kat instructed. “Get him on side and we’ll be fine.”

  “OK.” I was not looking forward to that. I hadn’t seen the man after I scrambled his brains and rescued my idiot merchant from their dungeon, and I was slightly relieved to learn that I hadn’t turned him into a drooling imbecile or reverted him to his childhood.

  “We need more barmaids in the Empressesses Head,” grumbled Benton.

  “You need to leave them alone so they don’t quit,” snapped Creville.

  “Customers always fondle the barmaids; they need to be able to deal with it. I’m just weeding out the ones who can’t hack the life.”

  “Dad, hands off or I’ll make sure you can’t handle anything again,” said Esme as she moved back into the kitchen. The old man scowled but didn’t argue further, taking his frustration out on the spitoon with a pinging noise.

  “So, Kat is going to sort a floor out in the dungeon.” I did not dwell on how much that would cost me, but the Greed-goblin didn’t look happy. “We’re going to see if Beville wants to join our merry band of capitalists and make him an offer he can’t refuse. Which by the by, Kat, you told me I shouldn’t do yesterday.” Greed went and picked a fight with Wrath and Vanity to vent his frustration. Auction, keep thinking about the auction, Bob. “And I need to talk to a man I vegetablised. If I’m going to do that, I need someone to–”

  “Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!” called a man's voice from the bar.

  “Any of you pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you!” Woman, shrill and semi-hysterical.

  I sighed and pushed myself to my feet. “I’m pretty sure that’s copyrighted. At least they had good taste in movies. I’m going to go let them know they’ve chosen the wrong place to rob.”

  Nobody steals from a dragon.