Vignette - Golden Brown
Yes and Meeritza
Golden treasure. In the end, the sweetest of prizes is always the golden treasure.
Glittering eyes surveyed the hoard with lust as their owner slunk and slithered through the cavernous space. The air shimmered with heat and steam, an intermittent glow of dancing flames lit all around as steel jaws opened and shut. Tiny creatures danced through the shadows while giants shuffled around them shoving things into the furnaces, tending fires, and pulling yet more treasure forth from the depths. This was a dungeon of brick and metal, stone and coal, and it would soon know the depredations of a greater power than the petty creatures who built it.
A dragon stalked it now, playing a game with its prey for a stake of the golden treasures being pulled from the fires. A greedy heart raced at the thrill of the challenge. Of course, as a dragon, swooping in and taking anything desired was as easy as a whim but equally whimsical was the desire to take it all by stealth and guile. Surely everything they had today could be captured and taken, but a strange quirk of fate had gifted the foresight of ``treasure tomorrow'' to this particular dragon. The more that could be taken without these fools noticing, the more of it they would make. It was power in a new form beyond mere might.
The perfect system; unknowing slaves heaping more and more wealth endlessly for the taking.
The dragon slithered unseen through this play of light and shadow, following one of the larger figures who bore a tray heaped with the treasures, taking them to where they would be encrusted with crystals, adorned in color, draped in finery... given those forms most pleasing to the senses. This was the truest glory. Sparkling jewels wrought from the most precious of things. An ultimate form of opulence.
Daylight spilled through the doorway that opened into the craftroom. Panes of glass let in the sun from all angles, allowing the artists to work. The dragon's pupils shrank to slits in an instant even as the giant with the tray took a moment to blink and adjust. Coiling past the door jam and under a counter, the dragon found a spot to watch the craftsmen at work. The master and his assistants worked upon a huge golden crown, adding jewels and trimmings, pulling spires, and spreading smooth covers in lovely colors, and drizzling upon the filigree of yet more wondrous gold even while the whole piece was still piping hot. The adornment of the piece could not be rushed and the heist would not be worth anything if this prize was not completed first. The crown had to be fully decorated before the dragon would deign to bother, and the master knew it had to be completed before the steam had finished rising.
The corner of an eye saw an underling walking past with a tray covered in shimmering crystals, whole strings of them as long as its forearm. Colors of the rainbow captured in glittering solid pieces that would be displayed in the shop window along with the other treasures these wonderworkers had wrought that day, hoping to trade these treasures for such common dross as coinage.
Not that the coins wouldn't be taken as well, the dragon mused, as they were surely draconic property by right of species... presence... mere existence...
The window display was truly remarkable. A sure sign of the wealth and opulence that flowed through the community, gathered here to beckon to all those of worth and gloat at the rest. It said, without doubt, `Behold! All that you desire lies within! Step inside and know the depths of your heart's desire,' to every passerby. Tray upon tray of treasures sitting upon drapes of velvet and silk, dozens and dozens of identical pieces and dozens and dozens of varieties. Medallions and brooches and emblems, braids of plain gold, trophies glazed and bejeweled on their tops, and between them all were strings of gems and buttons of gold... and it was all going to be his.
The dragon's vision faded as fantasies of grabbing up all of the treasures crowded into their mind. Picturing wallowing in the wondrous delights of the window display, moving on to a reign of terror, driving the makers to bow and scrape at the merest twitch of a claw. Shrieks and cries of despair and loss arose as the fantasy figures cowered, pleading in vain that their lives would be spared them and not leave them penniless and scraping in the dust as a bed was made from their wealth and, as they watched, raised up the most precious of this new hoard up for all to see but never to touch. They would marvel, even in their terror at the wonder that their hands had wrought that was now victim to this most excellent power. All eyes would see the exultation in their conquest as the wealth of nations sat beneath dominating claws, raising it as treats in a fang-filled maw.
They would watch him eat it! They would see their treasures shoved into an ever-hungry gape and know truly what it was to be mighty!
Reality slammed back as the dragon recognized that something was wrong. The visions of power and greed sped away, leaving behind the utterly clear image of a face. The eyes of that face were fixed not on the treasures at the window, but directly, piercingly, upon their exalted personage!
Long years of instinct said that none should be able to see past the disguise. The camouflage was nearly perfect. Except to turn to look at the window, no movement should have been noticed at all. Why then was someone staring now?!
The face moved out of sight, but those eyes never left his until they passed behind the wall. The dragon pulled in a slow breath and began to inch his way around the base of the counter, pulling as much of him as possible out of sight of the window. He wound around himself, his sinuous body forming a loose coil to reduce his profile. Now to simply wait.
A jingle of bells heralded the arrival of a new body into the room.
"Oy," someone called from out of sight, "no handouts to urchins. Push off. This is a high class establishment."
"No," replied a higher, younger, simpler voice.
"No?!" Hollered the first at the speaker's audacity, "why i ought..."
"There's a dragon under that table there," the second voice interrupted.
"Of all the ridiculous nonsense," sputtered the first.
"It is. Just there," said the second voice with an inflection that said the words were being accompanied by pointing.
The dragon held as still as could be, willing himself to be unnoticeable and relying on the base cruelty of the artisans to the poor.
"Dragons ain't real no more. Nothing there but an old coil of rope. And here I thought I'd heard every excuse under the sun for some street rat to come in and nick our wares.
"It's pretending to be a rope, but it's really a dragon... think about it, what'd you need a coil of rope in a bakery for?
"Bakery?! This," the first voice sounded offended now, "is a confectionery young lady! It is no mere common bakery! Now..."
"It's going to steal your cakes..."
"Out!"
"You can see its eye peeking out..."
"OUT! OUT! Or I shall give you such a thrashing!"
"Someone at least pick it up th..."
The sounds of manhandling let the dragon know that it was safe to peek.
Success! No one was watching! The little waif had distracted everyone in the room! The oaf had taken hold of the small human and was wrestling it out the door. The other artisans and servants were watching the spectacle, even the master decorator was letting icing dribble out of his squeeze bag.
Quick as a wink, the dragon uncoiled and launched through the air, heedless of gravity's tyranny. Sweeping through the room with a long thin strand of actual string flowing behind, the dragon snatched up buns, cakes, and anything else the string touched. As the trailing string brushed over the surface of the buns it wrapped around them as if it had a mind of its own.
As a final touch, while slipping out the upper crack of the door which was being pushed open by the struggle, a little bit more magic loosened the knots on apron strings as well as those of trousers, cuffs, necklaces, and displays all around the shop.
Up and over the rooftops the dragon flew, trailed by the string laden with golden treasures, laughing in scandalous glee.
Down below, the urchin dashed away from the door as the bakers struggled to keep their trousers from falling. Her eyes had missed nothing. She had seen the dragon and the heist and was tracking it for all she was worth. But soon it had gone up and over the rooftops and out of sight completely.
Shouts followed her as she dashed away. She needed to get back to the safe-house and have a think about what she just saw. There was a dragon, a real dragon, somewhere in the city.
And as everybody knew, a dragon meant golden treasure.
