The Dragon and the George by Gordon R. Dickson Page A

have to swear it to me," said Jim. "I believe you. All right, Secoh"—he waved at the dead cow—"dig in. I don't want any myself, but maybe you can give me some directions and information about this territory and what lives here."
    "Well…" Secoh hedged. He had been sidling forward in fawning fashion while the conversation was going on, until he was once more almost next to the cow. "If you'll excuse my table manners, sir. I'm just a mere-dragon—" And he tore into the meat before him in sudden, ravenous fashion.
    Jim watched. His first impulse was the compassionate one of letting the other get some food inside him before making him talk. But, as he sat and observed, Jim began to feel the stirrings of a not inconsiderable hunger himself. His belly rumbled, suddenly and audibly. He stared at the torn carcass of the cow and tried to tell himself it was not the sort of thing any civilized person would want to eat. Raw meat—off a dead animal—flesh, bones, hide and all…
    "Say," said Jim, drawing closer to Secoh and the cow, and clearing his throat, "that does look rather good, after all."
    His stomach rumbled again. Apparently his dragon-body had none of his human scruples about the eat-ability of what he was looking at.
    "Secoh?"
    Secoh reluctantly lifted his head from the cow and rolled his eyes warily to Jim, although he continued to chew and gulp frantically.
    "Er, Secoh—I'm a stranger around these parts," said Jim. "I suppose you know your way around pretty well. I—Say, how does that cow taste?"
    "Oh, terrible—Mumpf—" said Secoh with his mouth full. "Stringy, old—awful, really. Good enough for a mere-dragon like me, but not for—"
    "Well, about those directions I wanted…"
    "Yes, your worship?"
    "I think—Oh, well, it's your cow."
    "That's what your honor promised," replied Secoh, cautiously.
    "But you know, I wonder," Jim grinned confidingly at him, "I just wonder how a cow like that would taste. You know I've never tasted anything quite like that before?"
    "No, sir." A large tear welled up in Secoh's near eye and splashed down upon the grass.
    "I actually haven't. I wonder—it's up to you, now—would you mind if I just tasted it?"
    Another large tear rolled down Secoh's cheek.
    "If—if your honor wishes," he choked. "Won't you—won't you help yourself, please?"
    "Well, thanks," said Jim.
    He walked up and sank his teeth experimentally into a shoulder of the carcass. The rich juices of the warm meat trickled over his tongue. He tore the shoulder loose…
    Some little time later, he and Secoh sat back, polishing bones with the rough upper surfaces of their forked tongues, which were abrasive as the coarsest sandpaper.
    "Did you get enough to eat, Secoh?" Jim asked.
    "More than enough, sir," replied the mere-dragon, staring at the denuded skeleton with a wild and famished eye. "Although if you don't mind, your honor, I've got a weakness for marrow—"
    He picked up a thighbone and began to crunch it like a stick of candy.
    "Tomorrow we'll hunt up another cow and I'll kill it for you," said Jim. "You can have it all to yourself."
    "Oh, thank you, your honor," said Secoh, with polite lack of conviction.
    "I mean it—now, about this Loathly Tower, where is it?"
    "The wh-what?" stammered Secoh.
    "The Loathly Tower. The Loathly Tower! You know where it is, don't you?"
    "Oh yes, sir. But your honor wouldn't want to go there, would your worship? Not that I'm presuming to give your lordship advice—" Secoh cried suddenly, in a high and terrified voice.
    "No, no. Go on," said Jim.
    "—but of course I'm only a little, timid mere-dragon, your honor. Not like you. But the Loathly Tower, it's a terrible place, your highness."
    "How terrible?"
    "Well… it just is." Secoh cast an unhappy look about him. "It's what spoiled all of us, you know, five hundred years ago. We used to be just like you other dragons—Oh, not so big and fierce