Long ago I gave up trying to keep my personal library (and my house) in order. I’m lucky to get books shoved onto shelves of a similar topic. I think all of us wish we had our own personal librarian and a housekeeping pixie. Alas, it’s not in the offing. I’m stuck with my own weird way of finding what I need and unearthing special treasures when I’m searching for something else.

Dragon Treasure

Irene Radford

“Peel me a watermelon, Jenks,” I called to my servant.

“Peel it yourself, Your Monstrousness, Madame Lea,” thepixie sneered back at me.

With that attitude, he should have been a gnome. I threw a bookat him, the newest in a cozy mystery series I had just finished reading. Jenksflitted up into the cobwebs at the top of the cave. I sent a dribble of flameafter him. Any more and I risked the danger of setting fire to one of thestacks of books piled around me.

My aim was off. I sent five spiders scuttling to safety butmissed my target.

“Hey, send some more fire this way, Your Volatileness. Helpsclean up a bit,” Jenks taunted me.

“House cleaning is your job.”

“If you’d hire some proper house fairies rather thanenslaving an innocent pixie...” He darted into a corner behind the stack ofEgyptology tomes.

“You know I can’t afford house fairies.” Jenks had come tome as part of a trade. I scared a pack of bandits away from a farmer’slivestock in return for some books. Jenks had been enscorcelled inside adelectable volume on wheat hybrids (I think the wizard figured no one wouldever open the book and discover the bad-tempered brat). I broke the spell inreturn for services. Some day I’ll write a book about that adventure. Some daywhen I’ve finished my to-be-read-pile, or got bored with re-reading myfavorites.

“If you’d get off your fat arse and go hunt up some treasurelike a proper dragon...” Jenks ducked as I threw a rotten tomato at him. It wassitting right where I’d left it when I started reading the mysteryseries--goodness, can that have been two weeks ago? How time flies.

I lumbered off the lounge, displacing the pile of oldromances that propped up the broken leg. A fog of dust engulfed me as the bookstumbled. I was mad enough to spit fire, but had to settle for loosing a streamof ancient curses--gleaned from one of the Egyptology tomes.

“Where are you, you miserable pixie?” I screamed as I battedmy forepaws through the thick air, trying to clear it before I sneezed.

Too late. “Achooooooooo!” Smoke and fire shot upward as Iturned my muzzle away from the precious books.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Jenks screamed at me as he beatat a flamelet on a hardcover dust jacket with his hands. Unfortunately, hisflapping wings only fanned the embers into real fire.

“No great loss.” I stomped upon the wildfire, half hopingI’d flatten Jenks in the process. “It’s only a duplicate copy of Astarte,Love Goddess To Unlovable Thieves, true porn masquerading as romanticerotica, probably the worst book ever written.”

“My favorite,” Jenks protested as he squeezed between mytoes.

Drat! I missed the little gnat.

He examined a bent wing. The fire had singed the tip, and mytalons had made a rent down the middle, a least two thirds it’s rainbow length.

“I claim the other copy as recompense for damages, YourAddicted-to-Justice-ness” Jenks moaned.

“Fine, and clear out some of this other crap while you’re atit.” I kicked a pig skeleton into the deep recesses of the cave. It bouncedback from the pile of refuse, and shattered upon impact. I pulled a splinterfree of the carcass and picked my teeth.

“You really should do something about the mess, YourSlobbishnes,” Jenks said, shaking his head.

He rummaged through a pile of rags to unearth a medicine bagfrom the last wizard who had tried to steal treasure from me. When thespell-caster had discovered nothing but books, I couldn’t allow him to leave.After all, my fierce reputation was all that gave me any privacy for reading.

The land was thick with knights and other adventurers;younger sons who couldn’t inherit the family homestead and had to make theirown way in the world. I guess they hoped to pilfer a few diamonds and such topurchase their own land or make them more attractive to an heiress.

To tell you the truth, if I had a spare diamond or two, I’dsell it and buy more books. That’s the only use for treasure, in mynot-so-humble opinion. My fractiously feuding family doesn’t agree with me, onmuch of anything. Especially the issue of books. Boils and pustules, what can Ido with them?

They believe the purpose of a dragon’s life is to amasstreasure and then defend it against thieving humans. Now if we could just teachmore of those humans to read and to treasure books...But that’s another matter.

My family, with their hoards of shiny treasures can affordhouse fairies to keep everything clean and polished and properly accounted forin thick ledgers.

A clean cave is a sign of a sick mind. Or a sign of a dragonwith nothing better to do with her time.

I’d rather spend my time reading.

Whenever family obligations require we meet, I always go totheir places. I’d never invited a single one of them here, nor have I allowedthem to “drop by” or escort me to a family gathering. They might discover thatI’m not just erudite, I’m a total slob.

The doorbell rang. Such a rare phenomenon that Jenks and Istared at each other long enough for the visitor to get impatient and ringagain.

“Quick, Jenks, get rid of it, whatever it is.” I slunk intoa dark recess, grabbing my book along the way.

The bell rang again, a long and loud bong that repeated adozen times, as if someone actually swung from the rope rather than rapping it smartlyagainst the bronze bell. I wasn’t curious enough to peek out the window crackto see for sure.

“Keep your greaves on, I’m coming,” Jenks groused. He had towalk the ten tail-lengths to the iron-hinged and studded double oak doors. Hecouldn’t lift the latch of course. It was heavy enough to make me think twiceabout lifting it--so I rarely left the place. Jenks crawled beneath thedoor, then right back inside.

“Get your scaly chartreuse body over here, YourImmenseness. This is one of yours.”

“A knight?” I really didn’t want to fight a knight today.They’d left me alone for so long, I’d lost my taste for human flesh. Besides, Iwas just getting to the good part of the book, the part where the hero saysthis one special word in ancient Sumerian and the heroine melts into a puddleof oil.

Psst, I should mention that I usually recastthe characters in the books I read. The ones you might ordinarily call villainsare the true heroes. The nice guys are just too...too vanilla.

“A knight of sorts,” Jenks choked under his nectar scentedbreath.

Then I realized the hacking sound coming from his miniaturebody was laughter. If he’d make a decent mouthful, I just might eat him. Butthen, if Jenks didn’t lure game into the cave, I’d have to find food and cookoccasionally. That would disrupt my privacy and my reading.

“Who dares trespass on my property,” I bellowed in myfiercest dragon voice. I let a little smoke seep under the door. That usuallyscared off all but the most desperate and poor of the thieves.

For an answer I heard only a tremendous thud against thestout door.

“What’s he got, a battering ram?”

“Better,” Jenks chortled. “A trebuchet.”

Curses and flames hit the door in equal measure. It caughtfire and splintered under the next blow.

Where could I hide? More important, how could I keep theinvader away from my books?

Panic made me shrink into a brittle shadow of my robustself.

“Quick, Jenks, sprinkle the place with pixie dust so hethinks all this is treasure and not just garbage. Maybe he’ll haul away a pigcarcass or three.”

“Or six,” Jenks muttered. “You know if I dust the booksmaybe he’ll haul away a few stacks, give us some more room.”

“Over my dead body!” I puffed myself up and loosed anotherblast of fire. The knight was attacking the door with a fresh barrage ofboulders anyway, maybe if I singed him through the cracks a little, he’d thinktwice.

“He’ll make your body dead if you aren’t careful.” Jenksthrew a handful or two of pixie dust over the remains of my last six meals.

“More, Jenks. That’s not enough dust to fool anyone."

“All I can do, Your Gluttonness. Can’t fly, thanks to yousinging my wing, so I can’t properly dust anything.”

“Maybe if you throw it in his face...”

“You willing to hold me high enough, and close enough toreach his face?” The cocky gnat stood, hands on hips, feet spread in anaggressive stance.

“I don’t...If I have to.” My knees began to tremble and Idropped to all fours rather than fall flat on my face.

Did I mention that besides being an erudite slob I am also acoward?

“That’s better,” Jenks said. “You’re thinking, rather thanjust reacting and depending upon your size and strength to win this fight.”

Yeah, right.

He began climbing my body as he would a mountain. “If yourolled onto your side, I could make better headway on your scales. Not fightgravity.”

Whatever. I obeyed his command and he slithered andhitched himself up, scale by scale, shaking loose a few itchy mites along theway.

Meanwhile, the knight made headway on the door withboulders, nearly as large as myself, banging into it every few minutes. BeforeJenks reached my muzzle so I could stand up again, the door crashed to thefloor.

“Yeep!” I squeaked and scrambled for a more dignified pose.

“All right, Lea, hand them over!” shouted a scrawny mancrouching behind a shield made of translucent dragon scales. He brandished arusty sword that belonged in a museum. His token armor consisted of motorcycleleathers and a helmet--not very stylish or well-fitting leathers at that. Theybagged at his shoulders and butt. He’d had to roll up the pant legs and sleevecuffs to accommodate their bulk and length to his underdeveloped frame.

Jenks swung from one of my neck fronds as if it were aplayground toy. “Hey!” he chortled. “It’s a girl.”

I dipped my head to peer more closely at my invader. Theshield was perfectly transparent to my vision. I also hoped to find a wayaround that shield. Flames were of no use against dragon scales.

If I stalled long enough maybe she’d drop it. It must haveweighed a ton and covered the entire length of her body.

“Hand what over?” I boomed, hoping the noise andreverberation would cover the frightened quaver in my voice.

“Your library books. They’re one hundred years overdue. Thefines alone are worth a king’s ransom.”

“Yeep!” I gulped. “Library books?”

“You heard me. Hand them over.”

“Look around, girlie, you find ‘em, you can have ‘em,” Jenkschallenged her.

She poked her pert nose around the edge of her shield. Hereyes went wide, causing a pair of thick spectacles to slide down her miniaturesnoz, stopping just short of dropping to the ground.

“By Midas, the great god of hoarders!” She tried reachingfor a pile of books, discovered both hands occupied by sword and shield.

I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. How tochoose between the treasure of books and defense of her body? While shethought, I tried to come with a strategy to get rid of her. But if she lefthere alive she’d tell the world that not only did I not have a great treasureof diamonds and gold, but she’d broadcast to the world and my family what alousy housekeeper I was, even with a pixie to help dust occasionally.

The librarian/knight finally opted to sheath her rusty oldsword and keep her shield between herself and the smoke dribbling out of mymuzzle. Rapidly and precisely she straightened two piles, alphabetizing them asshe went.

“My name’s Miriam by the way, Miriam de Livres. Some ofthese books are true rarities. They should be in an atmosphere-controlled roomon acid free shelves, not touching each other...” She rambled on about the bestway to store and preserve the books. All the while, the square footage behindher shield took on a neatness the likes of which this cave hadn’t seen incenturies.

“This cavern is precisely climate controlled. If you’d beenless concerned with overdue fines than where you were you’d have noticed howdeep you came into this hidey hole. The temperature and humidity do not varymore than ten percent no matter the weather outside,” I explained to her. “Ibought those books new and they are still in pristine condition.”

I puffed out my chest with pride, to disguise the firebuilding within me. If Miriam of the books lost just a tiny bit of her concentration,I might be able to work a line of flame over or around the shield and she’d beash. What was one more dead body among the refuse. I just wanted to be donewith her and get back to my reading.

“These books are in good condition, despite the dust,” shesaid in a dazed sort of voice. She skootched closer to my chaise lounge,(recliners don’t fit my body nearly so well as old fainting couches) leavingorder in her wake.

I noticed an old favorite among the rows of books that I hadforgotten about. I snatched at it with two delicate talons.

Miriam slapped my paw with the flat of her sword. Where didthat come from? “Don’t you dare make a mess of these books.”

Chastened I withdrew to sulk on the other side of thechaise. She shifted the shield, still keeping it between us.

Jenks hopped off my muzzle onto my favorite reading chairbeneath the crack in the ceiling that allowed a little extra light in. A puffof dust rose around him when he landed.

The librarian stifled a sneeze, still working away in searchof “her” books. If possession was nine tenths of the law, then the books shouldbe mine after a century or two had passed.

“Maybe we can work a deal,” Jenks said in a stage whispermeant to induce a sense of privacy but loud enough so I could hear.

I’d hear his quiet words anyway, dragon ears and caveacoustics made this a perfect whispering gallery.

“We let you retrieve your books and take a couple of specialrarities and you waive the fines. And you keep this cave a secret.”

Little Miss Neatness tilted her head to listen. Her freehand kept working.

“No! Not my books. You can’t take my books away from me,” Iwailed, wringing my forepaws. When did I lose control of this battle?

“Hush,” Jenks admonished me. “I’m saving your ass. You evertried to match a librarian for stubbornness, determination, and greed forbooks?”

“Actually, removing some of these books from this cave mightdamage them irreparably. But it’s a shame scholars don’t have access to them. Wecould learn so much about history, literature, lost sciences...”

“Scholars?” I asked. A plan began to create a pattern in mybrain. “Scholars with grant money to pay for access to research material?”

“Scholars with grant money to pay for someone else to do theresearch?” Jenks looked pointedly at me.

“Scholars with grant money to pay for solid shelves and acard catalogue,” the librarian confirmed, eyeing me speculatively. A glimmershone in her eyes. Those brown orbs grew large with excitement.

“Librarians to help with the dusting?” Jenks asked.

Both the librarian and I stared at him in disgust.

“Okay, I’ll dust, you catalogue and shelve.” Jenks pointedto Miriam. “And you do research.” He shifted that accusatory finger toward me.

“Agreed.” Miriam finally dropped the shield and held out herhand.

Jenks brushed against it, the closest thing to a handshakehe could manage.

Then they both turned to stare at me. I extended a talon thesize of Miriam’s hand. She grasped it and gave it a yank. I guess that sufficedfor shaking on the deal.

“Can I get back to my reading now?” I asked plaintively.That was of course my primary objective.

“No!” both Miriam and Jenks screamed.

“If I haul out one armload of garbage, can I read a book?”

“I don’t know. How fast do you read?” Miriam lookedpointedly at the rotting magician against the far wall.

“Too slow,” Jenks said.

“Two piles of garbage per book, and you have to let us putthe book back where it belongs when you are done,” Miriam insisted, hands onhips.

“Which of course means I don’t have to put it back!” Ichortled.

“Would you anyway?” Miriam asked. A delightful smudge ofdirt graced her pert little nose.

“Well no. I get to pick which book I read next, though.”

“They both sighed and nodded.

I grabbed a stack of anthropology texts ranging from theMayan pyramids to Hindu polytheism.

“One book at a time. Your check out limit is cut until weget this place clean and we have money coming in.” Miriam gently removed fourof the five books from my hands.

“But...”

“Think about it, Your Laziness Lea,” Jenks consoled me. “Thesooner we get this place ready for company, the sooner you can indulge inreading anything and everything. Then you can write book reports, you cananswer questions about what you just read. You’ll be acknowledged as theworld’s greatest authority. People will actually pay you to read.”

I grabbed the nearest pile of skeletons and rotting fabricand practically danced to the cave mouth. “Where do I put it?” I asked.

“Sort it into recyclable categories and dump thenon-biodegradable stuff on the plateau above the cliff. That will misleadstupid, uncouth, illiterate adventurers into searching for your treasurefurther up the mountain,” Miriam called through the entrance tunnel.

Good idea. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I carefully pickedthrough the stuff to make certain I didn’t accidentally discard any books.

Oops! I found a book of alchemy diagrams amongst the deadmagician’s bones. I peeked over my shoulder to make sure Jenks and Miriamweren’t watching. Then I tucked the book amongst my neck frills for safekeeping. What would it hurt to just look through it to make certain it wasn’tdamaged?

oOo

In loving memory of
My mother
Miriam Bentley Radford
School librarian.
She taught many, including me
That reading is the greatest gift
you can give a child.