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responded with a burst of speed that had the chariot wheels bouncing over the irregularities of the
trail. Now it was a high-velocity ride, but Flint gave the animal free play. The chariot shook so hard it
seemed ready to fly apart, and Flint reveled in the sensation. Was this what it was like to be a god,
coursing through the sky?
Yet he wondered. Why had the Queen provided an unchaperoned dragon for the visitor? A soft,
civilized man like the Ambassador could have been injured or even killed. Was she testing him? He
grinned in the dark as the waves of vapor blew out his hair. If the Queen were curious about the
mettle of Outworld, she would learnt.
In due course they steamed into the palace demesne. There were a cluster of buildings and
appurtenances, ornate affairs with columns and turrets and arches and flying buttresses-probably a
mishmash of Earthly medieval architecture. What sort of buildings had resulted when the pleasantly
primitive Goths become Gothic architects? This was the physical manifestation of cultural regression
toward the fringe of the civilized Sphere. It was the same for all Spheres, whatever sapient species
controlled them, for there was a built-in limitation-the lack of energy. With unlimited energy, all the
Spheres could have been maintained at the highest level of civilization. Maybe it was really a
blessing, for galactic conquest would become possible, and there were many creatures more advanced
than humans. But as it was, many Spheres could flourish and their outer reaches had to fade. In no
case was history reenacted; the technical approximation was echoed by culture. Where rapiers were
the most advanced weapons, etiquette honored the proficient swordsman. The guidance of Earth
history helped set the patterns, but this was a very general thing, with anomalies the rule. So there was
no firm guide to the authenticity of the palace. The palace was what it was, and that was by local
definition correct.
"Rogue dragon!" someone screamed as they slammed into the terminal. Men scurried about,
spreading out a huge net with which to snare the rampant beast. But Flint smiled, and drew in on the
reins gently. The dragon screeched to a stop precisely on target, its giant claws chiseling furrows out
of the packed dirt. Flint dismounted in a cloud of steam and dust, gave the dragon a comradely pat on
the nose, and marched regally into the main gate.
A shaken flunky took his name and planet, and another led away the dragon, who gave Flint another
brief but meaningful glance. The rapport of Kirlians operated independently of species or intellect.
Right now Flint had other things to do, but he would come to see the dragon again. He preferred its
company to that of ordinary human beings.
And where there was one high-Kirlian animal, there might be others. Were all dragons like this here,
or just this one? Probably no animals had been measured for this quality; few natives understood the
nature of the regular Imperial surveys. Flint had been ignorant as a child and young warrior. Now he
understood the secret of much of his success as a hunter on Outworld, and perhaps as a flintsmith too.
Some animals and even some objects possessed auras, and he had unconsciously related to these.
"Ooooh, there's a handsome one," a female voice remarked as he entered the gate.
Flint picked out the owner of that voice. It was a girl-like none he had seen before. Her face was
pretty, and her breasts were astonishingly uplifted and full, seeming about to burst out of harness, but
the rest of her was grotesque. Her arms were grossly bloated to the wrists, and her hips jutted out at
right angles into a posterior like an overgrown swamp hummock, a massive mound dropping
vertically to the floor. Two pegs protruded from that voluminous skirt, and Flint realized these were
her slippered feet. And her face and hands and the alarming cleavage of her bosom were light blue.
"Haven't you seen a woman before?" she inquired.
"Don't stare," the voice in his skull said. It was the Ambassador, on the job. "I can't look through your
eyes, but I'm assuming from the voice that you've just met one of the palace escorts, a handmaiden to
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