" . . . Very well. Return when the meeting with the envoy takes place," commanded Rughoi, and Kali zipped out of the room, Kutur in tow, surprisingly quickly. 

"It's nice, isn't it?" Ardasa said, watching them go. "Look, how in the absence of war, our citizens could find time to enjoy themselves, to go out and play. You could learn a thing or two from that." She hoped her mate heard that comment. He was always working on one project after another, without any stop between. First it was the balcony, which simply had to be made of stone. Next it was enforcing the tax plan. On and on it went.

"We cannot match larger races in terms of size and strength," Rughoi countered. "Only in our minds are we superior. It is natural to find purpose in work, for that sets one apart from lesser creatures."

"Nonsense! Scen gave us joy so that we may seek more of it," exclaimed Ardasa, smirking in her knowledge of how to goad her bound one. He was raised religious, and he would be all his life without doubt. "If we had the wood, I would have lovely docks built lining the rivers. Imagine it, will you? Strong kobolds rowing their lovers out to the soft whistling of the current . . . "

"I have plenty of docks," Rughoi said, sniffing.

"Army ports don't count," Ardasa laughed. She went over and kissed Rughoi on the side of his snout.

"I suppose . . . " Rughoi sighed. "Still, the dracon emissaries. I wish they'd stop taking their damned time and hurry themselves up. The longer they wait, the more inclined I feel about burning their city to the dirt."

"Wagons won't teleport, silly. Give them time." Ardasa said. "We have nothing to worry about, honestly."