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. Often, he would
quietly mutter a magical incantation, slap his tail against the
ground three times, and make Seron's brushes disappear.
The dragon seemed bent on driving the artist to distraction.
But Kyra always soothed Seron's anger by explaining
yet again that the dragon tales of her youth told of the
creatures' freewheeling nature. "A brass dragon," she said,
"comes and goes as he pleases and likes to play tricks. It's
his nature; don't blame him."
And so the painting continued. At least for a short
while . . .
Tosch might have stayed for years instead of a few
short months, but when the Highlord and her forces invaded
Flotsam, the young dragon fled to the mountains.
Seron and Kyra might have done the same, but Flot sam
was all they had ever known; they had both been born
there, and neither of them had ever been anywhere else.
The truth was they were afraid to leave. Times were hard
after the dragonarmy took over. But even so, Seron eked out
a living. He managed to sell his pictures of Tosch, despite
the fact that dragons were now far more commonplace. One
of Seron's portraits went to the owner of the inn where he
worked as a cook. He sold another to a fierce female ship
captain who said she would hang it in her cabin
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