The invitation had hinted of some great news. Grey wondered, with trepidation, what that news might be. The last time he had visited Waldesruh had been after Weber, after Percy. Stephan, who had recently lost his arm, had been bent on self-destruction, throwing himself into drinking, chariot racing, and breeding sausage-shaped dogs for badger hunting.
He followed Wilhelm to a sandy clearing. Stephan was in the centre, stroking his hand down the neck of … was that a dragon? Two dragons?
"John!" Stephan cried joyfully. "Look, I am now breeding the Mauerfuchs!"
On the whole, thought Grey faintly, he preferred dachshunds.