Free Dragon Traders by JB McDonald

Dragon Traders
    by JB McDonald
    Ashe watched the thin metal camp cup rise in Katsu's grip, press for a moment against thin lips, and settle back down to the blankets spread across the ground. Steam coiled upward in the confines of the tent. His eyes flickered to the wiry man who'd been drinking. There was a look of absent concentration on Katsu's human features; Katsu's mind was obviously occupied.
    It was almost a crime to interrupt, but Ashe was pretty good at crime. "Where'd you learn to make coffee?"
    Eyes so dark they were nearly black glanced at him, then away. A graceful shrug of shoulders, narrow for a human but broader than Ashe's, lifted and fell as if that were the only answer needed.
    Perhaps it was, but it wasn't very fulfilling.
    "You make better coffee than anyone else I know," Ashe continued, determined to strike up a conversation. He kept plaiting as he spoke, nimble fingers searching out and repairing braids. As long as he did a few every day, none of the dozens of long braids in his hair turned too ragged. Letting them go untended quickly created a mess. He tucked the finished ones behind his pointed ears, ears that were a legacy of his elven birthright.
    Katsu only grunted acceptance of the compliment and took another sip of coffee. Ashe's mug sat before his crossed legs, filling the little tent with a mouth-watering smell. Outside, he could hear Eddie, the only other member of their temporary crew, humming a ditty she'd picked up somewhere. They'd ridden ahead of the other mercenaries, the three of them able to travel faster than a whole group. It gave them a few days to do Katsu's job before joining the gang again.
    Ashe wasn't positive they'd really need Eddie, though a group of three was safer traveling than a group of two, he supposed. Katsu had wanted the extra sword in case of bandits; the dragon eggs were to be sold, not stolen.
    Not that they could be sure they'd sell them all. In fact, Katsu seemed sure they wouldn't, though their crew's leader, Nate, had been positive that this particular merchant would want dragon eggs. Nate had also warned that they shouldn't trust Byron Tackalle in the slightest, that he'd try all manner of illicit things rather than pay them. Katsu had decided it was still worth the risk: not many people had enough money and power to buy something so rare and valuable. For a small fee Nate had helped set up a meeting, sending messengers ahead of them on horses clearly not pure-bred; Ashe could sense too much magic from them. It was too bad, really, that the privatized postal system here on the outskirts of the country refused to sell the animals. Ashe would have loved one.
    Instead, they were stuck with regular horses to deliver highly valuable dragon eggs. Ashe eyed the saddlebags, filled with straw to cradle their precious cargo, that held the eggs. Each egg was the size of a large man's fist, and had a strange, creamy tone. Except one -- a smaller one, faintly green, that Ashe swore had faded to a opalescent foam color. He'd shown Katsu a week earlier, but Katsu had only chuckled and said it was a cuckoo egg, explaining briefly that some dragons would lay eggs in other dragons' nests, leaving the young to be reared by others. Either way, Katsu said, the egg was dead without a nesting dragon to hatch it. Dead maybe, but still pretty. When the subject of payment for Ashe's help had come up not long after, he'd asked for the little egg. What was he going to do with piles of money, anyway? Humans were obsessed with it, but he'd rather have something attractive. Katsu had told him he was worse than a sparkle-crazy crow, but finally agreed, and now the little opalescent egg was his.
    Ashe started on another braid, cutting out the leather thong that had held it in place, then wincing as he tried to untangle it. Finally, he took his knife and cut through the worst of the knots, too.
    Looking for another conversational gambit, Ashe asked, "Where did you learn your craft?" He