Dragon's Boy by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online

jewel from the cave floor.
    â€œAn emerald,” said the dragon. “Do you know it?”
    â€œAn emerald,” repeated Artos, who by now had discovered that if he repeated anything the dragon taught him two or three times, he never forgot it. “An emerald.”
    â€œThere are those who say emeralds have an evil temperament, but I have always thought them one of the most beautiful jewels in the world. What do you think, boy?”
    Artos considered the jewel by the flickering light of the dragon’s breath.
    â€œAn emerald,” he said thoughtfully, the word now fully his. “Grass is as green, and new leaves, and the hills all glowing in early spring. Green has always seemed to me one of God’s favorite colors.”
    The dragon was silent. It was usually a sign that he was pleased with Artos’ answer. A wrong answer always brought a swift correction.
    Encouraged by the silence, Artos continued, “So I think a jewel that is green cannot be evil at all. Not on this world, anyway.”
    The dragon chuckled fondly at him, a strange chu-chu-chu sound. “Now I will give you this lovely green jewel to keep for your very own if you can find it under the right pot.” It placed the emerald carefully under one of the pots and began to mix the pots around.
    Leaning forward on his stone seat, Artos concentrated with all his will. He didn’t really want the jewel as much as he wanted to make the dragon proud of him.
    Round and round the pots went, until Artos was almost dizzy with them. Then the clacketing of the dragon’s leg slowed and, at last, stopped.
    â€œDo you know which pot the jewel lies under?” the dragon asked.
    â€œThat one,” he said, pointing confidently.
    The dragon lifted the pot he’d indicated. The jewel was not there.
    â€œIt has to be,” Artos said. “I never took my eye off it.”
    â€œBut it is not,” the dragon said. “Watch again. I will still give you the jewel if you guess the right pot this time.”
    Artos watched again as the pots circled. The dragon used two feet this time, not one, and the extra clatter was loud in the cave, but Artos was never distracted. When the dragon stopped moving the pots around, Artos said nothing but pointed, to the correct pot this time.
    When the dragon lifted it up, there was nothing underneath.
    Angrily, Artos leaned forward and picked up the other two pots. The emerald was not under any of them.
    Chuckling loudly, the dragon turned over its claw. The emerald was firmly tucked into the deep sharp creases of the palm.
    â€œThat’s a cheat!” Artos cried petulantly.
    â€œWill you watch again?”
    â€œNO!”
    But he did, not once but many times, though he could never catch the dragon palming the green jewel. At last he sat back.
    â€œWhat wisdom is this, O Master of Riddles?”
    â€œIt is many different wisdoms,” the dragon said, “but you shall have to figure them out for yourself.”
    Then he taught Artos exactly how the game was played.
    Artos went back to the castle, having practiced the game of pot and jewel for over an hour till he got it right. He refused the emerald when the dragon offered it, saying, “I didn’t guess the right pot, so I’ve no right to the jewel.”
    The dragon had snorted, then answered, “But there wasn’t any right pot.”
    Still, Artos wouldn’t take it, and felt marvelously righteous and impoverished as he trotted home. It was a wonderful feeling.
    Even better was the feeling he got after supper when, borrowing three identical cups from the table and using a rather large pea he’d saved out, he fooled Cai, Lancot, and Bed. They even bet coins on the outcome and lost seven times in a row. It made for a handsome pile of coins.
    That’s when Cai had threatened him and Artos, grandly and with great apparent pleasure, pushed the coins back across the table toward Cai saying,