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for Khisanth in the lair. After meals
     on hot summer days and nights, the dragon liked to splash the fetid water up to her neck
     with her tail, then lie on the cool, dark stone-and-dirt floor. At least it was dim inside
     the cave. Khisanth pondered the nyphid's adoration of light. They needed sunshine; she
     sought the solitude of darkness. Why had she agreed to fol- low the training of creatures
     so opposite to her own nature and needs? Greed, of course. The answer didn't shame her.
     Instead, it supported her decision to force them to teach her as promised. Just then
     Khisanth froze and cocked her head to the side. Someone or something was approaching her
     lair. The underside of her long tail made a soft scraping sound as she scuttled to within
     twenty feet of the opening, where the shadows would still conceal her. She pressed her
     bulk up against the left wall. The burning green acid that constantly roiled in her
     stomach stood waiting in the back of her throat. Kadagan bounded through the opening to
     the lair. Shaking rain droplets from his
    luxurious hair, the nyphid took one look at the scattered remains of roses. “Thou hast
     been busy,” he said, oblivious to Khisanth's threatening posture. The dragon stepped from
     the shadows in the foulest of moods, one eye half-closed in a furious squint. “Don't you
     know better than to approach a dragon's lair unannounced? I nearly boiled you in acid.”
    The nyphid looked neither concerned nor surprised. “I was aware of thee. Besides, I do not
     fear my own death.” “Not fearing it and walking foolishly into it are two different
     things,” growled the dragon.
    “Come, Khisanth,” said Kadagan as if she'd not spoken. He stepped from the cave. “The rain
     has stopped.” Still grumbling under her breath, the dragon followed the nyphid to the
     ridge of trees downhill from the lair, where Joad waited cross-legged on the ground. “Let
     us see what thou hast learned.”
    “I've learned that I'm sick and tired of your games.” Khisanth impulsively snatched
     Kadagan up by the front of his green tunic and raised him a dozen feet from the ground.
     “Either you teach me to shapechange right this minute, as we agreed, or you can pull some
     other hapless creature from the bowels of the earth to smell flowers.”
    “Does a rose look like a badger?” Kadagan rasped from the pressure on his chest. His
     expression was strangely serene. Joad had not moved. “Of course not!” snorted Khisanth at
     the improbable question. “So, it is not a badger. Does it have the flavor of a moose?”
    “No, it tastes like a rose!” “And how is that?” Drawn into the line of questioning despite
     herself, Khisanth set the nyphid down on the still-damp pine needles. “The wooden stem is
     acrid, and the center is sweet, com- pared to the rest.” “Wouldst that not describe an
     orange or an apple?” “No” The dragon paused and thought for a moment. “Yes, it would.” She
     grew frustrated at this realization. “Whaf s the point of all this?” Kadagan looked at her
     straight-faced and said, “I think thou knowest, even if thou dost not yet understand it
     completely.” Khisanth's eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to say that there is a commonality
     between all things, and that the differences are but nuance?” Kadagan looked impressed.
     “Thou hast learned more than expected. All I hoped for was recognition of the
     distinctions.” Adjusting his tunic back into place, the nyphid settled onto a rotted tree
     stump and wrapped his slender arms around his knees. “Any magical creature can learn the
     rudiments of shape-changing,” he continued. “But a master of the skill brings all of his
     other.... 'essences' to his new shape, combines it with complete understanding of the
     creature whose shape he would take.” Kadagan paused. “The result is a magical creature
     superior to the natural one. Anything less is