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"Wake up, Sir Knight! Wake up!" My eyes snapped open, and I sprang to my feet, drawing my sword as I did so. There was the merchant, the whites of his terrified eyes glinting in the firelight. He was raving. "It's out there!" he cried. "It's out there!" "What's out there?" I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The merchant gripped my arm with both hands and drew his face close to mine. His forehead was drenched with sweat, his eyes were wide, his voice a little more than a whisper. "The dragon, of course," he croaked.

Behind me, a loud, beastlike roar went up. I turned to see a great hulk of a man -- all hairy jowls and heaving gut -- lumbering from leg to leg in a slow battle-jig. I recognized him at once. His fists were clenched. His bloodshot eyes were wild. "Come on, if you think you're hard enough!" he was bellowing. Here we go again! I thought. Why do I always seem to end up in this type of a place? You'd think I'd have learned by now. All I'd wanted was a quiet drink. Was that too much to ask? Was it? Given the day I'd had so far, maybe it was...