a private person. He doesn’t let people in easy, you know?”
“Yeah, I know the type. I know someone just like that, actually.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “A beautiful girl. A beautiful young woman, I should say.” His gaze met hers, and she was surprised to see the shimmer of tears. “She changed my life.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “This guy? The one I told you about? He changed mine, too.”
“Really? Coincidence, do you think?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Then … what?”
“Magic,” she whispered, right before kissing him again. “I believe in that.”
THE END
APPENDIX I
Extract from:
A History of the
Dragon Alchemists
Edited by
Quentin P. Frost
Maker’s Story
Once upon a time, there was a man who was born a god. He wasn’t the most powerful god, nor was he the most well-liked, but he worked hard and did his duty and didn’t upset the order of things.
At least, not in the beginning.
Let’s call this god … Hephaestus. This may or may not be his true name, you understand, because as with all gods he had many titles. The Smith of Olympus. God of the Forge. Maker of Wonders. But Hephaestus will do for now, because he was good with his hands. He made things. He made many wonderful, magical things, and his skills were in great demand. He could have been rich, with all the commissions he was given, but he didn’t charge for his work because he loved it so much. Gods—even those who had forsaken their godly homes—didn’t need money.
Hephaestus wanted to be left alone on his island to build and make and invent. That’s all he had ever wanted. Solitude was important to him. People irritated him, even when he was a young man, and he wondered how they lived together in such close proximity. Sometimes, his fellow gods would come to visit him and ask for something or other to be made, and he was always glad when they left. Sometimes humans would petition him for help with a project, and he never minded blowing the breath of invention into their work—so long as they put in adequate effort, too. So long as they put their heart into the thing. There was no point in their asking for his help if they expected miracles, or if they weren’t willing to sacrifice something of themselves.
One day, a god and goddess came to his island together, but they weren’t alone. They brought their children with them: two beautiful boys, who looked like the sun and moon. One shone brightly, with hair the color of pure sunlight; the other was dark, with hair like the wings of Hephaestus’ pet ravens.
He looked at the children, and something in his heart broke open. He had never been lonely before, but now he thought about family and how he would probably live a very long time by himself. These were strange, unfamiliar feelings. They unsettled him and caused him to question many things about his existence.
As he worked on the small job the family had brought for him, Hephaestus stole glances at the boys’ mother, the young goddess. She was beautiful and elegant, with smooth dark hair and skin the color of fresh honey.
After the family left, the two boys happy with the clockwork birds that Hephaestus had given them, he went into his workshop and locked the doors. He didn’t come out for a very long time.
Twelve years passed.
Many people came and went in that time. Gods visited the island in hopes that he would invent something for their home or offer consultation on the latest technology. Human beings paid homage to him and burnt offerings, in hopes that he would create a new weapon for their latest war. But Hephaestus was getting old, and he was tired and wished they would all go away and leave him in peace. He was busy making something the likes of which he had never before attempted.
Finally, he was done. His latest masterpiece was complete, and Hephaestus opened the door to his workshop once again. Everybody—both gods and mankind—breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to place their orders. Twelve years is a long time when there are worlds to rule and wars to be won.
The gods looked down upon the little island and raised their eyebrows. They looked at one another with barely concealed surprise, because Hephaestus was no longer alone. He had built twelve beautiful maidens, all with limbs of silver and gold. They shone beneath the sun as they danced and sang.
Now, whenever anybody came to the island to beseech