Paul calmed his breathing, and knocked.

A voice more forceful than beautiful answered, "Come!" Paul obeyed, and saw the top of a woman's head bent over a wide maple desk. Her face was buried in a ledger of stretched leather, a pen poised for action in her left hand.

"Ms. Gallant? We have problems downstairs..."

"Problems, Squire?" Nite laughed, her eyes gleaming like turning blades on the jousting field. She pointed at the floor's scuffed oak boards. "Her Highness in 303 has called five times this morning, 'I'm bored! Find me some sport, Nite or I'll have your head!'"

Paul nodded. "You will remember I carried her trunks, bags, birds, dogs, and children. A bad tipper is a person never easily pleased, Ma'am. Now, the problem...?"

"Those gypsies refuse to read lunch buffet fortunes or do their magic show in the lounge tomorrow unless they get money in advance. Even if it were in the contract, which it isn't, they know I can't pay them until Her Worship squares her tavern tab."

Paul noisily cleared his throat.

"The Wench Power Order pillaged the parking deck again last night. I've got three stories of dangling tissue, and ninety terrified horses over there."

"Ms. Gallant," Paul cried, "there's a dragon in the lobby."

"They want time-and-a-half Midsummer Weekend..." Nite crinkled her brow. "A dragon?"

"Yeah, the red one-Ruby. I've seen him around. He's demanding a 'sacrifice'."

Nite rolled her pen over the tops of her fingers. "Old school dragon, eh?"

"The Wenches usually sweet talk him back into the street," Paul shrugged, "but they didn't try today."

"Ingrates." Her eyes narrowed to a predatory glare. "I won't be bullied into time-and-a-half. Let them sit by."

Paul's ears lifted with his grin, "Your sword, then?"

The Arabian Nite Hotel and Casino didn't have the most spacious lobby in the parish, but as far as Ruby was concerned it was perfect. On colder days when his ancient flesh didn't swell from heat and inactivity, he could squeeze in through the casino's wide east entrance with minimal discomfort.

Nite and her spear-carrying squire found Ruby basking belly-up in the electric glow of the Emperor's Jackpot Wheel. Paul hissed from his place at her heel, "I heard he lost his bed at the shelter last week. I tried talking to him before I fetched you, Ms. Gallant, but he said he hungered for a knight, not a squire."

Nite glared over her shoulder, and the knives Paul saw in his mistress' eyes commanded him to swallow his snickering and busy himself turning the butt of her spear in the rug. She focused on the dragon again, "Ruby, you're trespassing..."

The dragon suddenly snorted and belched, spraying Nite with heavy drops of brandy wine.

She tossed liquid heavy braids back from her face, her accusation putting a crackle in the air. "The Wenches gave him my liquor?!"

Ruby's tongue flopped out from between his jaws like a swollen carpet at her feet as an answer. Nite stomped one of its tips with her boot, and shouted. "Ruby!"

"General Ruby, by thunder!" The dragon scratched deep between his hind legs. "I'm a General..."

Paul's voice wafted toward her ear, "Are you going to kill him?"

"You can't kill me," the dragon mumbled, and rolled his bulk so that his milky eye was away from them. The other, a copper oval in a blinding sea of mist, narrowed. "I'm a war hero. Old, even by dragon's standards, I dominated battles for you insects before you knew how to remember events with written words."

Nite squeezed the hilt of her sword. "You're scaring my customers away, and you've smashed two of my best slots with your tail."

"I'm sick. Call 9-11. Lady of the Lake General gives me a nurse when I stay there."

"Being so bloated with my spirits, perhaps I'll just stick a tap in your side, and pass your blood off as ruby wine."

"General!" He roared, sputtering fire too easily diverted by Nite's shield. "My bed of coins...gone. My dame, my compatriots and kin...You humans owe me a meal for my service."

"That may be so, but you'll find nothing palatable here if virtue seasons the flesh--just a bunch of vindictive wenches and greedy gypsies." Nite drew a sword that felt suddenly too heavy for her wrist. "I can't allow my place to become a hospice for has been dragons as well."

"You'd pull steel on me?" Ruby roared, rising to his feet.

"Wait!" Paul ran between them. "You enjoyed working with humans once, General?"

Ruby's foggy eye searched for a place to focus. "Everyone desires to be of use."

"You overstep yourself, Boy." Nite put the tip of her sword to his chest. "I see where you are going with this. Sure, he could chew a wench for me, but what use would he be after that?"

"Well..." Paul scratched his chin. "What about unloading wagons for meals and shelter?"

"He's a lush. I can't afford to replace cargo."

"Understood." The squire snapped his fingers. "I've got it. Entertainment. Wouldn't stories or songs be perfect sport for 303? I've heard that Dragon Song was the magic that first lassoed the moon."

"It is so." Ruby raised his chin.

"A dragon act..." Nite lowered her blade, leaned on the hilt. "The parish's only in-house dragon! He'd be a wonder, an interactive exhibit. I'll put in extra time managing his show, maybe work a tour, you could make me the Arabian Nite Entertainment Coordinator!" Paul rapidly redirected his point of sale. "The thrust being that you can tell those gypsies to stick it."

The corner of Nite's skeptical mouth lifted.

"We're partners, then? General? Ms. Gallant?"

The trio nodded agreement in unison.