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. "But awfully chancy."
"I'm insane," the gnome explained.
'What a shame," the dragon voice purred. "Well, you
won't have to worry about that much longer."
Bobbin glanced around again. He had gained some
lead, but now the dragon was winging around, making
for him in a flanking attack. The creature was huge, far
larger in both length and wingspan than Bobbin's
soarwagon. It fairly radiated power and dominance and
a mastery of the air. Its very presence was enough to in-
spire an awful fear, like nothing the gnome had felt
before.
"I don't suppose we could come to some... ah...
less terminal agreement?" Bobbin suggested, throwing
the soarwagon into a side slip that plunged it directly be-
low the dragon. He soared into a climb beyond his pur-
suer.
"Don't be ridiculous," the dragon voice was tinged
with anger now... and something else that tingled just
beyond the gnome's understanding. "You might as well
stop this dancing around. You don't have a chance of es-
caping, you know."
"I'm sorry," Bobbin said. "No offense intended, of
course, but self-preservation is a difficult habit to break."
He increased the soarwagon's pitch and reached for the
sky. Behind him, the red dragon beat great wings, pow-
erful in full pursuit. Yet, somehow, the beast seemed a
trifle sluggish.
Could the creature be tired? the gnome wondered. The
hint in the voice, that subtle something... could it be
fatigue?
"Stop this, now!" the dragon commanded
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