“But it is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them.” -- Ursula K. LeGuin

  I had no real warning, despite the Hawk-Eagle being on watch. One moment I was pondering what to use as bait for the local birds, and the next an oppressive aura descended upon me and my entire domain. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, but the sense I got was that whatever being had come to visit was immensely powerful, inherently authoritative, and vaguely irritated.

  Only seconds later, as I peered frantically through the eyes of the Hawk-Eagle, I spotted my visitor. The circling speck near the mountain’s peak, unobstructed for the moment by clouds, grew rapidly as it commenced a rapid descent – nearly a swoop. The speck grew rapidly, resolving quickly into a shape reminiscent of my cave wyverns, but writ large with six limbs instead of four. Rumors of a dragon from both Aven and Orn were now confirmed; its silhouette continuing to grow as it approached, I was clearly about to be visited as its flight path headed directly for me. I supposed it could continue past, but I wasn’t really willing to even hope for that result.

  As it approached, the Hawk-Eagle made out some general details – this was a dragon in the western style with a long neck and tail, sturdy body, and horns sweeping back from a long, narrow skull. Its scales were glossy, if not quite shimmering, a dark, grassy green with black highlights, and a paler, greyer underside. I’d assume that was to help it come up on prey unseen, but that seemed unlikely given the overtly oppressive aura it was radiating. Perhaps that was intended to send me a particular message, though, and it could shut the aura off if it so desired. By the time it came to a smooth landing just outside my entrance, backwinging to a gentle stop, I’d had maybe 20 seconds to process my original impressions. At 60 meters long, with an impassive intelligence in its glowing eyes, I was confident that I could do nothing to prevent it from passing judgement upon me; I could only try to be as accommodating as possible.

  I was only moderately surprised, when it turned its eyes directly in the direction of my core and spoke to me telepathically.

  *Give me one good reason why I should allow you to continue to exist on my sky island*

  Direct and to the point, I supposed.

  *What reasons might you accept? I mean you no harm, even if I could harm you? I’m happy to adjust my practices to minimize any disruption to you? I have a divine mission to complete, though I don’t know what it is? I’d enjoy having you visit to converse with me, but I’ll stay as out of your way as I can, if you’d rather? I doubt I can offer you much you want, but I’d be willing to try – information from my old world is probably my primary resource at the moment.*

  The big, golden eyes blinked, and the aura suddenly became both less oppressive and more irritated. I did get the sense that the irritation wasn’t really at me, personally, but at the dilemma I represented. I was suddenly sure that if I’d been a normal, non-sapient dungeon my lifespan would be measured in minutes at most.*

  *I guess I’d better come to your core chamber for a little chat, then.* It heaved a sigh, grouchily, with a trickle of smoke trailing from its nostrils, as it began to transform.

  Truly a startling sight - the wings folded into the body and the entire dragon began to compress, morphing into a humanoid (yet clearly not human or elven) form in a matter of seconds. The green scales transformed into a garment somewhere between armor and a flowing gown, her horns (and very clearly a her at this point) shifting into a glossy black mane of hair around a dark golden face dominated by unchanged golden eyes with a vertical pupil.

  *Direct me, please* she huffed out, impatiently.

  *Ah, of course, my lady. Just follow the mana lights* I diverted my attention for just a moment to trigger the lights and to send my various creatures out of her path and deactivate any traps. Defense was not an option; only polite compliance offered any hope.*

  *No lady, am I.* She sent amusedly. *My name is Mayphesselth. And while I have many other names, if we can come to an amicable arrangement, you may call me May.* She strode rapidly through the dungeon, clearly cataloging the details as she went.

  *I would love to become a good neighbor for you, May. My name is Sylvanus, and you can call me Vay, if you’d like. Are there particular concerns you’d like to address? Rules you need me to abide by? I’m afraid I’ve only been in this world for a few weeks and most of what I know of dragons comes from myths and legends in my own world. I expect they’re mostly wrong, in the way of those things.*

  *I’m glad you’re trying to be reasonable* she sent, with a distinct air of suspicion. *You’ve alleviated my most immediate concerns already, in that you’re not spewing undead abominations or staking massive territorial claims* By this point, she had circled past the pond in Room 4 and was sweeping past the cowering goblins on her way to my core room.

  *Ha, yeah, no. I will, as part of my new nature, need to extend my domain. Most of that will be underground, but I might spread on the surface too, if possible. I certainly wouldn’t try to exclude you; I couldn’t if I wanted to, but realistically, you clearly have the prior claim anyways. At this stage, and for the foreseeable future, I recognize that I can only exist here if you allow it; I probably couldn’t fend off a determined adventurer yet, much less a dragon.*

  *You seem like you’re relaxing a little already. I’m not a fan of flattery or sycophants, but you seem to be taking this too well? * She seemed suspicious of my reaction, and her golden eyes narrowed, as she made the short drop into my core space. I think she thought I’d say whatever would keep her tolerating my presence, and to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

  I decided I should probably be a bit more forthright with her.

  *Well, I did get some hints that you were around. You’re just a frightening rumor for the dungeon inspector, but my dungeon fairy seemed sure there was a dragon in residence. And to be honest, there’s a certain freedom for me in knowing you will do what you want to do, regardless of anything I can attempt. Might as well be polite and transparent in my intentions. I’d just as soon start as I mean to go on.*

  Her head cocked to one side as she pondered that for a moment and peered directly at my core. *Hmm. Well, let’s hash out some basic rules, but if you’re willing to be reasonable, we should be able to make this work. My presence is likely to discourage visitors for you, but the logistics of visiting the sky island will likely do that anyways. If the adventurers become a problem, I might revisit my policy, but if you keep their surface presence to a localized area it should be fine.

  Frankly, I don’t need the hassle of upsetting whichever deity put you here. And for all I know, your mission may end up being critical, so hands off is probably my best bet. Just know that if you irritate me enough, I might risk divine retribution. You said you don’t know your mission? What god put you here with an unspecified mission? Seems counterproductive.*

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  *I know, right?! I don’t know what god or gods placed me here. I assume they expect me to do what they want just out of my native interests or rational self-interest, whatever the mission is. At the moment, I’m just going with the flow of my various quest lines and hoping for the best. I was what you might call a scholar of ancient civilizations in my old world, so I expect that exploring the ruins on the sky island will give me some clues as to what I am supposed to do. Anything you can tell me about the history of the sky island would be appreciated, though I don’t want to impose on you.*

  She shrugged, a bit disinterestedly. *I’ve been the only notable resident for the last 300 or so years, and I can’t say I’ve really delved into the history of the island. I can tell you a bit about the humans who fled when I arrived, and even a bit about the bird people who lived here before them. I can tell my home has had draconic residents in the past as well, though how long ago I can’t say. Otherwise, the best I can do is to point out that the densest area of surface ruins cluster where the mountain meets the flatter lands, and mostly on the western side. That said, the sky island is ancient even by my standards, so you’ve got your work cut out for you.*

  She seemed tolerably amused at both my interest and my dismay. Still, better to have too much information to work with than not enough. I could practically feel my nonexistent hands twitching to start digging.

  She straightened up and adopted a more business-like, authoritative pose. *We’re getting off topic, though* she continued. *You asked about ground rules, so let me lay some out. First, I want you to limit the nature of your creatures in a few specific ways – no undead on the surface (and I’d rather none at all), no draconic creatures bigger than a cave wyvern, and nothing focused on mental attacks. Basically, if I have to come in and put down your creatures, I’d rather it wasn’t too gross.*

  I tried to convey a mental shrug. *I can live with that. It’s not too far off what the dungeon inspector requested anyways. I might have some skeletons, but I’ll keep them underground and out of sight. I’ve got some cave wyverns, as I assume you noticed, but I’ll avoid anything bigger or smarter in the draconic lineage. I’m hoping to end up with a kind of library/university/historical theme, so I’m hoping visitors will lean towards a less annoying and more scholarly kind of adventurer, eventually. I also have an interest in flying creatures, so I’m guessing my surface creatures will run in that vein, primarily.*

  May snorted, bemusedly. *I’ve met a few scholars in my day, while travelling in humanoid guise. I wouldn’t assume they’ll be less annoying than normal adventurers, just a different kind of annoying. Still, they should be less likely to try to attack me on a drunken whim; more likely to try to talk to me on a drunken whim, though, so you might keep them away as much as you can. If need be, you can tell them one of my names is “the Voiceless” to discourage them* She winked at my core, slyly. *I don’t talk much – out loud...*

  *As you prefer it, May. Assuming I eventually get the telepathic range to contact you directly, should I not? Or would you prefer I kept you apprised of goings on in some more regular fashion?*

  *Let’s... Hmm. Let’s play that by ear for now. We dragons do tend to be a bit antisocial, so mostly you’re safest letting me establish contact. You especially don’t want to wake me up without a good reason. That said, if something significant happens, you should keep me apprised. If you need a favor, or have questions that will require significant mental effort, then gifts for my hoard are traditional.*

  *Good to know. What kinds of gifts would you prefer? Gems? Precious metals? Fine art? Am I showing my ignorance of dragon culture?*

  *Well, yes and no. These are fairly common choices for gifts, though not necessarily the best ones. There does seem to be some innate tendency of dragons to gather a hoard in their lair, but it’s rarely that sort of straightforward treasure. If nothing else, those sorts of hoards are both economically damaging to surrounding nations and tend to increase the number of adventurers seeking to steal from it or straight up murder the dragon in question. No, that sort of treasure mostly has the same value to dragons it does to everyone else; it enables exchanges for things we actually want or need. Many dragons do have collections of durable artworks, but those are such a matter of personal taste that I don’t encourage them as gifts. Think of me as any other lady you might have known – we appreciate gifts that demonstrate you’ve been paying attention to the things we like or want. And, that’s all the hint you get for now...”

  Her mental voice was clearly amused, with an incisive quality that suggested to me that she expected me to get it wrong for some time yet to come. I appreciated that she was tacitly expecting me to both be around for the foreseeable future and to interact with me in a reasonably sociable manner. It was remarkable to me how quickly we’d moved from potential hostilities to a guardedly optimistic point of being at least tolerable neighbors.

  *I’m hoping that I won’t need any favors; I don’t like feeling indebted, generally. But I will absolutely try to pay attention to any hints about your interests. Alas, in the past, at least, that hasn’t always been my strong suit*.

  I caught myself, mentally. Am I flirting with the dragon? That seems inadvisable. Better to focus on just being a good neighbor. *Anyways, are there other things I need to do or not do? I’m assuming you don’t want me expanding my domain too close to your lair. Is that up near the peak like people assume? Or is it a secret?*

  *No, not a secret. In my dragon form, there’s really no way to hide the comings and goings of a being my size. My lair’s about 2/3 of the way up, with the main entrance on the north face of the central peak. The very top is too narrow to fit me comfortably, and it has what appears to be the remains of an old observatory or lookout post of some sort dominating it.*

  *Sounds fascinating. I’m still getting used to my new lack of mobility; I can send the hawk-eagle to take a look, but that’s not really the same thing as going in person.*

  *I take it you weren’t a dungeon in your old world? What were you, if I may inquire?*

  *Ah, I didn’t say, did I? I was a human. As far as I know, there were no other kinds of sapient beings on my world and no magic, either, though we had an extensive body of writing about things present on this world – elves and dragons, for instance. Most of doubtful accuracy, I’m sure.*

  *Similar, but reversed works, appear here too. They’re mostly seen as the fantasies of racial supremacists of one sort or another or resentful failed wizards. I fear they’re not that popular amongst more civilized sorts.*

  *I can see that. We had people like that too, of course. Stories of magic and fabulous creatures tend to be works of escapist fiction, in my world – though sometimes they had more overt aspects of social commentary. There’s something inherently interesting about postulating how a basic change to society would affect things. Most people don’t want to think about things that deeply, though, or they simply don’t have the time or ability. I’m curious to find out how the differences in this world have shaped the societies that have developed.*

  She cocked her head, a bit quizzically. Her mental voice, after a brief pause, returned with much cooler overtones and a bit dismissively. Apparently, she didn’t have much interest in academic sociological theories, or possibly didn’t like being thought of as a creature of fantasy, or both. *Well, we’re getting a bit off topic. Feel free to expand downwards all you want, expanding on the surface should be okay for the time being, if you don’t head up the mountain. Avoid generating creatures that will get you in trouble and, to the extent possible, prevent visitors to your dungeon from bothering me. Contact me only if you need immediate assistance and prepare a gift should that happen. If you have to, put a big one of these mana lights in your surface domain and flare it as brightly as you can. Otherwise, I’ll come around if I’m feeling sociable, but that doesn’t happen a lot. Generally, just ask yourself if whatever you’re planning to do will annoy me; if the answer is yes, then don’t do it. I’ll cut you some slack, but don’t make me regret it.*

  The return to being all business came fairly abruptly. I did my best not to seem taken aback, and I wondered if I had said/thought something actually offensive. If I had, I couldn’t tell what it was.

  *Of course, May. I will do my best.*

  She strode out of the dungeon, reverting to her original draconic form over the course of maybe 10 seconds. I wondered where all the mass went. Was she super dense in humanoid form? Or was the extra mass just stored somewhere else, through magic? She gave two beats of her powerful wings and lifted off in a near vertical fashion that seemed to violate several basic biological principles. Rising upward in circles, she appeared to catch a thermal and soared off towards the peak and her home, without a backward glance in my direction.

  Well, could have gone better, could have gone worse, I guess. She didn’t seem likely to destroy me, at least, which clearly had been a real possibility.