“Wait here. Master Kassik is an extremely busy man.” Pip knew how to wait. She had waited seven years to escape, only to be kidnapped by a Dragon. But now, she found herself hopping from one foot to the other. Alathion’s desk, front and centre in his plush office, was the biggest, shiniest, most impressive piece of furniture she had ever seen. Hunagu could have sat behind it with ease. To the left of the door stood two rows of three further, much more modest desks. Each had a block of wood with the word ‘scribe’ on it, not the person’s name. Each desk was covered in scrolls and journals and piles of files, and was occupied by a harried-looking man or woman. They ignored her. Strutting sparrow-like from desk to desk, Alathion barked non-stop at his scribes. ‘Haven’t you signed the contract? What’s keeping you?’ ‘Where are my supplies?’ ‘The roof of block nineteen. Is it finished yet?’ His gold-ringed finger tapped a journal.
