We do not want to be like them now, do we? Their lives were shortened when they left here, and they have been gone for so many centuries now that they have forgotten their own history. They do not remember from where they came, yet in their overweening pride believe themselves superior to all others in the world in which they live. Worse, they have changed little. They are still contentious.” His eyes began to grow heavy. He slumped in his chair. “I am weary, Cinnia. Leave me now,” the old king said.

“Are you all right?” she asked him anxiously. “Shall I call the physician?” Her small hand felt his forehead to see if he was feverish.

A small chuckle escaped him. “Nay, Daughter. I am neither ill nor quite ready to die. Look to the glass. There is yet enough purple sand in it giving me the time I will need to speak with the dragon. To meet with my successor. I am just old and tired.”

Cinnia moved closer to the old king, and bending, kissed his withered cheek. “I’ll call Samuel, and he will help you to your bed, Father. The king of Belmair should not sleep upon his throne. It takes away from your dignity.”

“As you will, Daughter,” he answered her. “As you will.” And his gnarled old hand waved her from his presence.

1

THE DRAGON FINALLY OPENED her eyes. Turning, she found her servant standing by her bed, waiting. She yawned and stretched lazily. “How long have I slept, Tavey?” she asked her servant, yawning again.

“A little over a hundred years, mistress,” Tavey replied. “The king has called for you. He is in need of your counsel. The purple sand in his hourglass is almost gone.”

“Humph,” the dragon replied. “How typical of Fflergant,” she said. “For all his bleating about tradition he has never done anything in a timely and correct manner. Now as his days end he calls for me. I have advised all the kings of Belmair since time began, but never have I dealt with one such as this king.”