he could slip away easily.
âWhy is it so difficult?â he asked Starback. The dragon scampered ahead, then darted back, bumped against the boyâs knees so that he nearly tumbled over, then leaped up high, wings brilliant in the moonlight. âItâs all a game to you,â said Sam. âBut I feel sort of dizzy. I want to be sick and to run fast at the same time.â
There was another turret, another tower. The breeze that swept the treetops over Samâs head cooled the arms of a girl, high above a market square, eyes fixed, mouth tight, hands curled into fists. A falcon hung above her.
âYou canât see either,â she said.
The hawk swooped and wheeled, rounded the turret, and was gone.
Tamrin shook her head.
âI know youâre on your way,â she said. âIâve always known. But why are you coming here now?â
She stood up and grimaced. Her long vigil, cross-legged, unmoving, had made her legs grow stiff. She hopped and danced, stamping the pins and needles out.
âOuch. Ouch. Ouch.â
She shook her open hand in front of her face. A thousand bright points of light cascaded down, hitting the tower roof with ten thousand chimes.
Tamrin smiled down at the heap of shining pins and needles at her feet.
âThatâs better,â she said, and descended the steps, closing the door behind her.
âHeâs a long time getting those puffballs,â said Caleb. âPerhaps he doesnât even know where to look.â
âIf he comes back with a bag of mushrooms and agaric weâll know heâs a fraud,â said Khazib, his face darkened more than ever in the lamplight. âThen we can send him packing.â
âThat wonât happen,â said Eloise.
Caleb leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. âYouâre so sure,â he said. âWhy did Flaxfield live like this?â
âAnd what is wrong with it?â asked Axestone. âItâs clean and sound. Only the finest oak furniture and honest clay pots.â
âA peasantâs house,â said Caleb, absently smoothing the fine brocade of his jacket.
âEloise is right. If we can find his indenture,â said Sandage, who had been silently watching the others till now, âweâll know what to do.â
The others looked to the ancient wizard as though he had some seniority over them, some right to make decisions. He nodded at the desk in the corner. âWhere would you keep important papers?â he asked.
The moon had sunk below the line of the trees. Sam had chosen a droversâ road. Not too clear, not too smooth, but wide enough not to let him wander off into the fields and woods. By moonlight it was an easy path to see, but now, in the darkness, it was a falsefriend, sometimes seeming to disappear, sometimes seeming to fork where no second road was. Sam sighed and looked around.
âIâve never been this far before,â he said.
Starback scrambled up a tree and looked down. His dragonâs eyes could see the road as though it were broad daylight. Swooping down, he started off, leading Sam.
âAnd Iâm tired,â said the boy.
Starback waited.
Sam stepped five paces from the road, found cover, and sat down.
Starback stayed in the road.
âCome on. Letâs rest here till morning.â Starback walked on.
You can ask a dragon to do something, but you canât tell it. So it was a night alone, or more walking. Sam waited for Starback to turn around and come and sleep next to him. Beech mast gave off night odors. The woods had seemed quiet and deserted as the two of them had walked along; now, in the silence of stopping, the small noises and movements pressed on Sam. Did the branches sway in the breeze, or were they moved by something else? Did foxes and rats rustle in the leaves and mast, or was there a wizard tracking them, circling him, drawing closer, ready to take him back? Did robbers,
Learning to Kill: Stories