Cimorene was not in a mood to be impressed. Besides, she could see that his helmet was a different style from his gold armor and that the armor had gaps at the knees and elbows where it didn't fit together quite right.

"Aren't you a little slow?" she asked irritably. "There've been eight knights here before you."

"Eight?" the prince said, frowning. "I thought by now there'd have been at least twelve. Perhaps I'd better come back later."

Cimorene stared at him in surprise. "Why?"

"Well, it would look better," Therandil explained seriously. "There's not much glory in defeating a dragon that hasn't already beaten ten or fifteen people at least. Sir Gorolax of Mirstwold won't even consider going after a dragon whose score is less than forty-five. I don't think I want to risk waiting that long, but eight just doesn't seem like enough."

"You're going to go away and wait until Kazul has defeated fifteen knights before you come back to rescue me?" Cimorene said. She found Therandil's smug confidence very annoying, but she didn't like to say so straight out.

"Not if you'd rather be rescued now, of course," Therandil said hastily.

"Though you ought to consider the advantages, and I expect it won't be so very long…" His voice trailed off, and he looked at her hopefully.

"I'm afraid it will be a very long time," Cimorene said with satisfaction.

"You see, Kazul hasn't defeated any knights at all yet."

"B-b-but I thought you said there'd been eight," Therandil spluttered.

"I said eight of them had come by; I didn't say they'd fought anybody.

I sent them away."

"You sent them away?" Therandil repeated, plainly horrified. "But that's-that's-" "-not done, I know." Cimorene smiled sweetly "But I've done it. And I intend to go on doing it, so you might as well go home and warn your friends. They'd feel so foolish, you know, if they came all this way into the mountains to rescue me and then had to turn around and go back home without doing anything."