* * *

IT IS NOT difficult to dispatch a blinded dragon. One walks up to where it stands clawing at its ruined eyes and one cuts the soft throat. It is an act of mercy.

Sentient beings are not allowed this mercy, unless they ask for it very specifically.

Edger hunkered down before the man called Val Con yos’Phelium Scout, in the fullest form thus far available. The smallness of him as he rocked back and forth, arms folded across his face, touched the spirit with ice.

“Tell me what I may do to aid you,” he begged, feeling ignorant as an eggling.

The small one gave a shuddering sigh. “You are well? It is dead?”

How valiant a being was this! “Yes, brother,” Edger assured him, “A’jliata is dead. I am uninjured, as is this foolish eggling, my heir.” He paused, then asked again. “But you—tell me what I may do. You are damaged…”

Another sigh, less profound. “Only temporary. I think. The light was so bright…”

Truth. Edger had been turned away, shielded by his shell, yet the flash had stabbed his eyes.

Val Con dropped his protecting arms and raised his head. The bright eyes were squinted almost shut, and there was moisture running from them, but it appeared that they functioned.

“I’ll be all right,” he said slowly. “It may take a little time for me to be able to see—properly.” He took a breath, moving his head from side to side. “I am sorry to trouble you, T’carais…”

Edger was conscious of a tightening of his spirit, in pride. “There is no trouble, brother, ask what you might.”

“I was returning to my ship,” Val Con explained, “when I happened upon you. If you could guide me…” He shook his head, turning his many-fingered hands up, palm out. “I am sorry to trouble you,” he said again, “but it may take my eyes some days to—to heal…”

“There is no trouble,” Edger assured him again, “Are you strong enough to travel immediately? Shall I carry you—I will be careful,” he added, conscious of how easily one might crush a being as small as this new brother.