The Werewolf and the Wormlord by Hugh Cook

are anyway.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I get told in advance, who’s coming, and usually when. I was expecting you. They told me you’d be here by night. But why night? I didn’t think to ask. But now I think of it, it’s most unusual. They usually come by day, you know.’
    ‘I walk the night because She walks the night also,’ said Alfric.
    ‘Oh,’ said the sea dragon Qa, as if it didn’t like the sound of that one little bit. ‘She walks, does She? Well, nice chatting. I have to go now.’
    And the dragon started to back off toward the surf. ‘Go?’ said Alfric. ‘But we’ve business to conduct. Listen, I’m here to kill you, but it doesn’t have to end that way. I’ve got a proposition.’
    ‘Then bring it to me in the cave,’ said Qa, the swash of dying surf washing around the rearmost of his four feet.
    ‘The cave?’ said Alfric, pursuing the dragon down the beach. ‘Why can’t we settle things here?’
    ‘I can’t kill people on the beach,’ said Qa. ‘That wouldn’t be lawful. My charter’s quite specific. All killings to be done on the island. In the cave, in fact.’ ‘Couldn’t we make an exception?’ said Alfric. ‘Just this once. I mean, it’s all the same to me whether I die here or on the island. And anyway, I’m not really expecting to die. Or to kill you. As I say, I’ve got a proposition.’
    ‘That sounds very, very interesting,’ said Qa. ‘But I can’t afford to violate the terms of my charter. One violation and it’s all over, you see.’
    Water broke and buckled about Alfric’s ankles. It was cold, and flooded into his boots through flaws of which he had previously been unaware. Yet he did not retreat, for there was much he wanted to know. Instead, he demanded:
    ‘Your charter?’
    ‘My agreement with the Wormlord. Oh yes, I got a formal written agreement, you can be sure of that. Not that I keep it here. My solicitor has it safe in Galsh Ebrek.’
    ‘Your solicitor!’ ‘That’s right,’ said Qa. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you in the cave.’
    ‘I’m not swimming out to the island,’ said Alfric.
    ‘I’m not asking you to,’ said Qa. ‘The sea goes in and out twice a day. Tides, that’s what it’s called. Influence of the moon and all that. Oh, but you’d know about the moon. You being a werewolf and all that.’
    ‘You called me a what?’ said Alfric.
    ‘A werewolf.’
    ‘A werewolf!’
    ‘Yes,’ said Qa. ‘Because that’s what you are. Aren’t you?’
    ‘No!’ said Alfric, hotly. ‘I am not a werewolf. That’s a base slander. A vile and gratuitous untruth. A rumour utterly without foundation. My father was smeared, that’s what it was. I—’
    ‘All right, all right,’ said Qa. ‘Sorry I spoke. Well, must be off now. Much swimming to do. Doctor’s orders, you know.’
    ‘Doctor’s orders? You have a doctor as well as a solicitor?’
    ‘Oh yes. Olaf Offorum. The Wormlord’s personal physician. He sees to me as well. Comes here twice a year to check me out. Told me to do more swimming. Oh, and to eat more horsemeat as well. Where is your horse?’
    ‘I haven’t got one,’ said Alfric.
    ‘You mean you marched here all that way with that great big pack? I don’t believe it. Not to worry, though. Mostly they bring their horses here, but when they don’t I usually look in the forest.’
    ‘The forest?’
    ‘That’s what I call it, but it’s only a few trees really.
    You know. Down the shore. About a league away. Anyway, that’s all for now. See you later!’
    With that, the dragon began to backtrack in earnest. A wave caught it, knocked it off balance and tumbled it up the beach. But on the second attempt the creature made it out into the surf. Alfric walked up the beach and sat down on his pack. His feet were cold and sodden, but he gave them little thought, for the sea dragon Qa had given him much else to think about.
    The dragon’s story rang true.
    It was undeniable, for instance, that