Fresh Out of Virgins

The men and women of the tiny village crowded around the platform where the Wise Woman spoke, a huddled mass of humanity in rough linens, wools, dust and fear. They watched her ascend the steps, stand before them, and speak. Her hands and voice shook, but her eyes were sharp and clear with fury and retribution.

"It is true," she said, "the dragon and his priest come tomorrow." A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd. "The oracle tells me they will come, and the priest will tell us to select a sacrifice for the dragon, a virgin of marrying age."

Several people began to cry out at once. The Wise Woman whacked her cane upon the platform to regain their attention.

"They will come," she cried, "but they will find no appropriate sacrifice. The dragon may yet choose to eat one of us, but we will not pick his meal. We will not be party to murder by offering up one of our own. If he takes one of us, he will do so against the will of the people, and it will not be a meal of his liking. You virgins--we cannot send you away--you wouldn't get far in the mountains in the snow that still clings to the tops of the trails, and could he not just follow you there? We can't hide you--where could you hide that a dragon could not sniff you out? So I give you this one curious command." She smiled, toothy. "By...