"You see," Nazarchtharin goes on, placing one claw upon his chest in a theatrical display, "it is not just any book. It is a recipe book, and they are the jewels of my hoard. Now," and he drops his head close to Inric once again, "there is a certain book I have been hoping to obtain for some time." He cocks his head to the side. "That would be an adequate compromise. What do you say?" "Perhaps you could tell me about this book?" Inric suggests. What else can he say? The dragon turns. "Step this way. And do tell your creature I am not interested in eating them."