The Dragon Lady

By Stephen D. Rogers

I must say, however, that she was a trooper. My first day there, she scrubbed me clean and invited over Miss Eleanor Barstow so that the three of us could have afternoon tea. I would rather have continued digging for buried treasure.

Miss Eleanor Barstow thought I was a little darling and expected us to get together marvelously.

I expected her hand to finish morphing into a claw right in front of my eyes. Her skin was scaly and dry, stretched tight against her bones as if it might split nothing at all like real skin. I tried to imagine her a little girl and instead pictured a lizard.

I thought Miss Eleanor Barstow was a lovely name for a lizard, and promised to use it the next time I captured one.

She blew on her tea and leaned forward to explain. "I need to cool it down."

I was ten, not three. Maybe when people lived as long as she had, they lost their ability to judge ability. I mean really. I'd been cooling off hot food for years. "Yeah, you don't want to burn yourself."

Grandmother pointed a plate of cookies at me. Oops, I guess being agreeable wasn't very lady-like. Since I appeared to be a lost cause, I decided it couldn't hurt if I took three of the chocolate chip and two of the sugar.

The plate of cookies was snapped away and placed on the other end of the table. Good thing I grabbed a bunch while I had the chance.

Grandmother cleared her throat, making it wobble. "You should remember to save room for sherbet."

Miss Eleanor Barstow beamed and I almost barfed. Who in the world ate sherbet these days? Hadn't these old ladies heard about the invention of ice cream?

Laying a dry crackly hand on my arm, Miss Eleanor Barstow confessed that she loved lemon sherbet. It was so cold that it sometimes shrinkled her tongue if she didn't blow on it first to warm the bite.

I gave her credit for "shrinkled" which was my kind of word. Raisins were shrinkled grapes. Witch doctors made shrinkled--

My breath caught in my throat and I nearly choked on the cookie I was chewing.

Miss Eleanor Barstow blew on hot things to make them colder, and cold things to make them warmer. One moment she breathed ice and the next moment she breathed fire. Why, this old lady must be the legendary Thermostat Dragon.

It was a good thing for Grandmother that I had spent the spring slaying dozens of monsters to prepare for this moment. My sword arm was strong, my aim was true. It seemed to me that the first job of a lady was to surround herself with non-ladies for protection.

Nothing completed an afternoon tea quite like a little sword action. Miss Eleanor Barstow wasn't aware of it yet, but I'd be sporting a dragon belt by the end of my visit here.

Grandmother stood. "Why don't I check on that sherbet."

"That's a wonderful idea." Oh those dragons were charmers when they wanted to be. Just wait until I lopped off her head.

After Grandmother was out of hearing, Miss Eleanor Barstow leaned forward, her eyes flashing orange for just a second. "So you've guessed my secret."

I froze. "What?"

"I could turn you into a pile of cinders in less time than it would take you to draw your sword."

"But I don't have a sword." Why did her eyes keep flashing orange? It was quite unnerving. She couldn't really be a dragon, could she?

Her skin flexed and shimmered green as if something was trying to get out of her body.

Miss Eleanor Barstow suddenly hissed, and I turned to see Grandmother aiming a huge crossbow at her company. With a snap, the bolt shot across the room to impale Miss Eleanor Barstow who roared and writhed but finally lay still.

I closed my mouth before any more cookie crumbs landed on my lap. This was definitely unusual.

Grandmother laid the crossbow against the wall. "Lesson number one: a lady does what needs to be done."

About the Author.

Back to the top of this page.