"I don't know," said Mister Gibberling.
"I will tell you," said Belkis. "He looks for a dragon tokill. If he can't locate any, though, he finds something elseto do. Perhaps even something constructive. But you with yourdragon-filled maps! - you are keeping the old legend alive whenwe want it to die. We want people to forget, to leave us alone.
Every time some young squire gets hold of one of yourmaps, he has visions of heading for the mountains around herein order to make some rank, to get to be a knight by killingdragons. This leaves dragons with the choice of eating them allor trying to ignore them. There are too many and most of thempretty tasteless, not to mention hard to clean. So we attemptto ignore them. This is often very difficult, and it is yourfault. You have been responsible for maintaining a thing betterforgotten.
Also," he stated, "you are a very poor geographer."
"My father was Royal Cartographer, and his father beforehim," said Mister Gibberling.
"What does that have to do with you?" asked Belkis. "Youare a poor geographer."
"What do you mean?"
"What lies over those mountains?" asked Belkis, gesturingwith a scaly wing.
"Drag Oh! I mean more mountains, sir," said MisterGibberling.
"Admit it! You do not know!" said Belkis.
"All right! I don't know!" cried Mister Gibberling.
"Good," said Belkis. "That's something, anyway. Have youquills and ink and parchment handy?"
"No," said Mister Gibberling.
"Then go get them!" roared Belkis. "And be quick aboutit!"
"Yes, sir!" said Mister Gibberling, stumbling over hiscloak as he dashed from the hall.
". . . Be very quick about it!" said Belkis, flaming. "Or