"Kushner,.Donn.-.A.Book.DragonUC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

times, frankly, insane! But not stupid! Any true dragon could
always tally up the costs of its actions, could always foretell
that it was heading for disaster, if it chose. But there are more
important choices!''

Then, her eyes sending out pulses of dull light, as pride
and sorrow swelled within her, his grandmother told of the
valiant, unfortunate Schatzwache, who, from high above the
Caucasus mountains, spotted a vein of pure gold exposed by a
sudden geological fault. Obedient to the great law of all dragons,
"Guard your treasure," Schatzwache settled down on the
shining surface, covering it with his wide wings and long tail,
hardly leaving it even to search for food. Finally, when he was
so weak that he could no longer fly, he was set upon by scores

of knights with two-handed swords and hundreds of bushy-
bearded peasants with long axes. He gave a good account of
himself before his enemies hacked him to pieces, and his green
blood mingled with theirs. But the dragon's blood burned
down into the gold itself, giving it a magnificent blue-green
sheen: the "dragon-gold" from which the crowns of all the
Czars of Russia were fashioned.

"Yes, guard your treasure," the grandmother repeated.
"A dragon without a treasure is nothing but an ugly flying
reptile, with even less dignity than a salamander!" Then, her
nostrils pinched together, she added, "With less dignity than
a turtle, and with no more than a toad.''

Nonesuch's grandmother had many sayings like this, which
she brought out at more or less appropriate times.' 'Never kiB
anything you won't eat," she would say, adding in a milder
tone, "Why waste the energy?" Or, "Be dauntless, valiant,
tragic, whatever you like; but don't be stupid." Or, "If you
must fight, find a worthy foe.'' (Often adding with a shake of
her head, "If you're lucky enough to come across one these
days.'') But usually, even if she had said it before, she would
end her list of precepts with:' 'Always guard your treasure!''

So, dreaming, remembering her family's past glory, her
cracked, scaly head nodding, her great eyes closing and
winking, the grandmother drooled and mumbled over her own
pile of treasure: over the gilded sword hilts, the blackened
silver arm rings with crudely cut sapphires, the gold coins in
rotten wooden chests, the skulls and neck-bones
encircled with diadems and jewelled chains.