The Book of Silence by Lawrence Watt-Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

others and I can always make more. Would you like it?”
    â€œYes, I think I would; it’s a wondrous device, whether clockwork or magic. What is your price?”
    The man named a figure; Garth declined politely. After a brief and mild bout of bargaining, a price was settled upon as fair to both parties.
    â€œWill you take it with you now, then?” the toymaker asked.
    â€œNo,” Garth answered, handing it back, “I think not. I am seeking after the dragon at present; were I to take the gull, I fear that it might be broken in the fight. I will stop here and buy it on my way back, at the price agreed upon, if that will suit you.” After a second’s pause, he added, “Assuming, of course, that I come back; the stories I have heard of the dragon imply that I may not.”
    â€œThe dragon?” Surprise and concern were plain in the toymaker’s face. “You’ve come to slay the dragon? Oh, dear. That’s most unfortunate.”
    â€œIs it?” Garth asked as he moved to mount his warbeast. “It may prove unfortunate for the dragon; it has never faced an overman before.”
    â€œWell, that’s true,” the old man admitted, “but still...” He fell into a confused silence and stood watching, the metal bird in his hands, as Garth rode on past him and out of the village.

Chapter Four
    Garth rode for an hour through peaceful groves and flourishing farmland; on all sides blossoms were giving way to budding fruit and grain, and it was obvious that, barring some disaster, there would be an abundant harvest at summer’s end. He could still see no sign anywhere of a dragon or a dragon’s depredations. He did see, to his surprise, recent footprints, all human, on the road he followed; they were wide-spaced, as if the men who made them had been hurrying. They all seemed to run westward, the same direction in which Garth was bound. He wondered if the makers of the marks had been fleeing from the dragon. The villagers had seemed quite certain that it was awake and active and somewhere west of the town; perhaps they had seen it pursuing some of their countrymen along this highway.
    There was no trace of the dragon itself, however. Garth scanned the horizon.
    To the north and east he saw nothing but trees. To the south a few clouds hung in the sky above green fields. To the west the hills reared up before him; the valley was narrow at this, its northern end, and he had already crossed half its width.
    To the southwest a thin trail of smoke was curling upward, blue smoke almost invisible against the blue of the sky.
    He signaled Koros to stop, to allow him a better view; the warbeast obeyed, and Garth stared at the faint wisp. It seemed to be growing thicker as he watched.
    Dragons, it was said, breathed fire. Garth had never taken that aspect of the monster’s description very seriously; legends tended to be distorted in the retelling. Still, there was general agreement that much of a dragon’s destructiveness resulted from fires. Garth had assumed heretofore that the creatures might produce some sort of highly combustible substance, a venom or vapor, perhaps.
    If they actually did produce flame, however, then the smoke he now saw might be coming from the monster.
    Of course, it could also be coming from village cook fires and hearths, but he saw no sign of a town in that direction—no temple spires or roofs showed above the treetops. If there were a village, though, perhaps the people would be able to direct him to the monster’s current location.
    He pointed toward the smoke and called a command to his mount. With a growl, the warbeast turned off the road and began running cross-country toward the thickening column.
    Koros’ normal pace was almost unnaturally smooth and silent, far more comfortable for its rider than that of any other mount Garth had ever ridden; but when running, even though it was loping along well below its full top