Free Nothing But Blue Skies by Tom Holt Page A

and a little claustrophobic, as if he was lost in a maze. He was sorely tempted to morph back into his true shape, spread his wings and simply lift out of there, back to where there was room to breathe and perspective enough to see by. But he didn’t want to do that unless he absolutely had to - not in broad daylight, in the middle of a crowded city.
    The rain stopped and the sun came out; and the smell of drying cloth all around his body made him feel slightly sick. After wandering somewhat aimlessly for quite some time, he decided the simplest thing to do would be to head due south; because the river that bisected the city lay in that direction, so eventually he’d end up somewhere identifiable, even if he failed to connect with the main street he was looking for. The trouble was that it all took so long, with nothing faster than two feet to carry him, and it was also unexpectedly tiring. He’d only been walking for - what, seven hours? Eight at the very most - and already he was starting to feel distinctly weary.
    South was easy enough to find; he could close his eyes and find south, thanks to the rich, dank smell of the river. Taking a direct line was out of the question because of all the masonry in the way, but ultimately it didn’t matter; no more than an hour later, he found himself back where he’d started, almost exactly to the inch—
    â€”And there was the little man, leaning against a lamp-post and grinning at him. Now that was annoying . The dragon scowled horribly and marched over to him.
    â€˜You took your time,’ the man said.
    â€˜Why are you following me?’
    â€˜Is that a serious question, or are you just trying to scare me off?’
    That wasn’t the attitude he’d been expecting, not by a long way, and for a moment or two the dragon felt as if he’d just walked into an unscheduled plate-glass window. ‘Why are you following me?’ he repeated.
    â€˜Because I want to find out what you’re up to.’
    Perfectly reasonable reply for a biped; he hadn’t realised they were capable of such a straightforward approach. ‘Why?’ he said.
    â€˜You really want me to tell you?’
    â€˜Humour me.’
    The man shook his head. ‘You don’t scare me,’ he said. ‘We both know perfectly well that you won’t lay a finger on me. Or a claw, come to that; and a fin I could probably deal with.’
    â€˜I don’t know what you’re . . .’
    â€˜If you stay human and thump me,’ the man went on, with a cocky grin on his face, ‘you’ll get arrested; and they’ll find out that you aren’t in any of their records and don’t actually exist, and that’ll be really embarrassing for you. And you wouldn’t dare turn back into what you really are, because that’d give the game away for sure. Either way, you’d be helping me achieve my objective. So, feel free.’
    The dragon breathed out heavily through his nose, which seemed to worry the human a lot. ‘And what would this objective of yours be?’ he said.
    â€˜Oh, please.’ The man smiled sardonically. ‘Use your imagination, can’t you? Or don’t you people have them? I want to expose you, and all the rest of you goddamn’ flying sprinklers. I want the world to know whose fault it really is when it rains, so that they’ll start taking us seriously and do something about you. Preferably,’ he added harshly, ‘with cruise missiles. Or would they just bounce off those high-tensile bums of yours? I’m game to find out if you are.’
    Suddenly, the penny crash-landed. ‘I know who you are,’ the dragon said. ‘It was that nonsense you said about who’s really to blame for the weather. You’re one of those television people, aren’t you?’
    The man grinned. ‘Fancy you knowing about television,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised. I