16,808 / 10,222

Wow... after missing yesterday, I thought I'd have to work hard to catch up at least some of my words. I didn't think I'd do well, because my chair at my PC is so uncomfortable... but I got into the two characters who I think will end up my favorites, Paka and Lur, and the next thing you know, 7000+ words!

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"What mark?" But Tenni couldn't suppress his start at the words.

"Oh, you know what mark. Yes, I denied it, too. But we both have it. A silver mark that curves behind the ear and down the neck."

He hitched a hip onto his desk, doing his best to seem casual and relaxed. "I see no such mark on you."

"No, I am afraid you shall have to take my word for it. I am the Prime Talon. I am the only one who can see them all. Are you going to try to deny you have it? Before you answer, let me reply to what is probably your most pressing question – no, you are not going mad."

Once more Tenni had to struggle to hide an emotion, this time relief. For all he knew, they might both be mad. But there was something rigorously real about Niam. "Then what does it mean?"

"It means that you have been chosen by Nathduil, the Twilight Dragon, to help him become the Dawn Dragon in a few weeks."

Tenni reached behind himself and pulled forth the thin book, opening it to the painting of the two dragons. "Are you talking about this fairy tale?"

"Exactly. Except, of course, it is no fairy tale. Did you not receive that book recently, and in an odd manner? That was the dragon at work, preparing you to accept. He told me you would be the most difficult to convince."

"Yes, I have a skeptical mind. It comes with being an adult." Yet he had trouble shutting the book, and finally left it spread on the desk beside him. "Nathduil – which is he?"

"The red one."

"Isn't he the bad one? The one who hates humans? According to this tale, anyway."

"That, as you say, is a tale. The truth is, Stelenuil likes humanity, whereas Nathduil is indifferent to us. However, Nathduil recognizes that humans must be motivated, and he is generous to his own Talons."

"Generous?"

Lord Niam steepled his fingers before his lips. "What is it that you want, Master Tenni? If you could reach out and have anything, what would you take?"

Tenni snorted. "We're back in childhood again. I haven't made wishes for years."

"This isn't a wish. There is much a Dawn Dragon can do to influence this world. What would you like? The position of King's Scribe?"

"That would be a start," Tenni said with a shrug. "And a scribes college, under my control."

"Bearing your name?"

Tenni grinned. "That would be nice."

"It can be done. And will be, if you come with me."

Tenni crossed his arms on his chest. "Even as a joke, that is a tempting offer. What did the dragon offer you?"

"The crown."

Tenni blinked. Then, suddenly, he grinned. "No wonder you were prepared to guarantee my position as King's Scribe!" He had to laugh, and Niam laughed with him. Somewhere inside himself, he was beginning to believe this was possible. "Let me think this over."

"You have until tomorrow. I need to leave first thing in the morning."

"To go to the mountain?"

"No, no. There are three more Talons to collect. My next destination is Deneba."

"That cesspool?"

"There are many people in Deneba, of all kinds. Besides, not all Talons, I imagine, seem worthy at first sight."

"So why me?"

"I have no idea. That is the dragon's choice, and he doesn't explain himself to me."

For some reason, that admission, more than anything else, made the rest of what Niam had said seem plausible.

And there was the mark.

"I'll think on it. What will you do if I decide against going?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose," mused Niam, drawing on his gloves, "that I would be told what to do in that case. But recall that Nathduil is not known for his kindness."

"That sounds like a threat."

"Perhaps it is."

On that cheerful note, Lord Niam left him. Tenni rose and went to his chair, sinking into it as if he'd aged fifty years in a moment. This entire thing was too good to be true, too fantastic to be sane. Yet, so many pieces of evidence verified it, not the least of which was the fact that Hawksblood was involved, a man not known for flights of fancy.

He looked around. After all, what have I got to lose? A letter to the Guild saying that I am traveling with Lord Niam to discuss sponsorship would be easy to compose. I could leave Zuib in charge here. A few weeks of him, and they'd beg me to come back, no matter how long I stayed away. In his imagination, he could see the new college in the capital city, with the king's arms over the entrance, and, just under those, a banner with the name of the college cut deeply into the stone. His name.

He could take a scroll, record the journey and the fight between the dragons. It would be the only account ever done of that event. He would be famed all over Elegar and beyond, for hundreds of years.

Mad. You're running mad! Yet he kept looking at his quill and phrasing his letter in his mind.

Chapter 5: Paka

Lindi was trying to sleep in her place, Paka's own place. Paka clenched her small fists and prepared to do battle.

Not that she blamed Lindi. The girl had only been with them a week or so, and was still trying to find a place. Either she wasn't aware that this remote corner of the basement was Paka's, or she didn't care. But Paka had been here for years, and she knew that, if she once backed down, she would never have another place in the house to call her own. Someone would take it just out of spite or for fun. The other kids were like a dog pack – any who showed weakness were ruthlessly pulled down.

The problem was, Lindi was bigger than she was, and older. She had come from the docks, too, which meant that she must know how to fight, or she would never have reached the age she had. She would not be with Gi for long, for once a girl reached the age Lindi was fast approaching, Gi sold them to the bawdy houses if he could. But Paka couldn't wait for that to happen. That corner in the dark, dank, dirt-floored basement was more than just her territory. Buried in the ground there was Paka's only possession, and it meant more to her than anything. Much more than her own safety.

She stifled her anger and steadied her voice so that her words came out with some authority in them. "That's my place, Lindi. Go find your own."

Lindi turned her back with a shrug. "I brought Gi more than anyone else, today, and he told me to sleep wherever I wanted. I want this."

"You only want it because it's mine." Next to Lindi, Paka was the only girl older than about nine, and the others looked up to her. She didn't know why that should bother Lindi, but it did.

"So what? It's mine now."

Paka took a step forward, lifting her fists. "No, it's not."

Behind her, a male voice said, "It sure as hell isn't. I don't want to sleep next to you."

Lindi sneered. "Lur. Always sticking up for poor little Paka, aren't you?"

"Yes. She's not an ass. And she doesn't take up half the room you do, you sow."

The older girl leaped to her feet. She was a head taller than Paka, and taller even than Lur, who had not yet begun to grow into his bones. Her face was ugly with anger, but went ludicrously blank when Lur stepped out from behind Paka and showed her the board in his hand. He grinned and slapped it against his palm. "Come on, then."

Lindi tossed her head. "Two against one?"

"No, just me."

Paka said, "Me, too!"

Lindi snorted with contempt. "You two. So cute. Forget it. I don't want to be anywhere near either of you. I'll find a better place. Drier."

As she strode off, Paka hissed to Lur, "Where did you get that?"

He pushed his long black hair out of his face, uselessly, since it always fell back again. "Under the stairs. It's a piece that broke off."

"Well, get rid of it quick. Lindi'll be off to tell Gi as fast as she can trot. You don't want to be caught with it."

With a shrug and a cocky grin, Lur wound his way past the other kids, most of whom were settling as best they could to sleep, and shoved the board into place where it belonged. Someone muttered, "I'm telling, Lur," and Lur laughed at him and gave him a punch on the shoulder. Paka didn't worry about that. Lur was popular with the other kids, and no one would tell Gi anything.

Gi, however, was either too busy to listen to Lindi, or simply didn't care, because he never came down the rickety steps to check on them. He trusted Lur more than most, because Lur had been with him longest and was the best thief of them all. Lur looked after and helped train the younger boys, as Paka did the girls. They were more valuable to him than Lindi.

Paka lay on her side and, with her hand hidden by her curled body, dug into the loose earth until her fingers brushed the cool steel of the small box wherein lay her treasure. Behind her, Lur also lay down, his back pressed to hers. "Still there?" he murmured, amused.

"Yes." She snuggled back against him, curled up tightly, grateful for his warmth. The dangling, dripping icicles and frigid winds of winter were gone, but the nights were still cold.

Neither of them spoke again. There was no need. Privacy was unknown to them, and even if they'd had it, they knew each other so well, talk was often superfluous. His stomach growled, and she took out a piece of the bread she'd stolen earlier that day, broke it in two, and slid half over her body and into his hand. He chuckled, squeezed her hand, then gulped it down.

They had no blanket or pillows, and the night was not only chill but unusually damp, but with the extra bread, small as the crust had been, to add to the thin gruel that Gi had served all of them an hour ago, they might have slept well. However, both of them were restless for no apparent reason. Paka felt Lur's wakefulness as easily as her own. Finally, she sat up and put her back against the wall, stretching out her legs. He joined her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Both of them kept their voices low, to avoid waking anyone else. The children slept so quickly and soundly, exhausted by a long day's work, that even though the nearest was only hand's breadth from Paka's feet, he didn't stir at all.

Paka couldn't tell him. This was the first time she had ever kept a secret from Lur, and although he knew something was being hidden from him, he never pressed her. He didn't suspect that her secret was keeping her awake now.

She touched the side of her head, feeling the coolness. It was still there. Today, for the first time, she had climbed up onto a rain barrel and looked inside, and seen the thing on her reflection. It was so bright, curling through her hair and down her neck, that she was amazed that people didn't point at her and laugh or run from her as they would from a leper. She didn't understand how no one could see it, when she could both see and feel it. She feared it was some horrible disease, and feared even more that, if it were, she would give it to Lur. She was ashamed, even, although she didn't know why. She hadn't asked for the thing. She didn't know what it was or how it had come to be on her.

She shivered, and Lur started to remove his shirt to put over her. She stopped him. "I'm not cold." She felt his eyes on her in the dark, and admitted, "I'm afraid."

To her surprise, he said, "Yeah. So am I."

Could he know? "Of what?"

"Can't say. I just am. Remember the day the typhoon came into the harbor? Remember how we got that prickly feeling? Well, it's like that."

She gripped his hand. She'd been so concerned about the thing on her head that she hadn't noticed that prickly feeling, but he was right. She had it, too. She strained her ears, trying to hear anything out of the ordinary. Beside her, she felt Lur doing the same, and he had ears like a cat.

Suddenly he twitched, then abruptly turned away from her and pressed his ear to the wall. "Someone is coming. Marching. Ten, I think."

"Coming here?"

"This way, but I can't be sure." But he was quivering now. She could feel it through the thin material of his shirt.

"Constables?" she whispered at last, unable to prevent herself from speaking.

"They are coming here." It was an answer. No other disciplined group of men would come to this part of town.

The city constables were the terror of all the children. Gi had warned them of the penalties for theft. Their youth would not be considered. They would have hands or arms chopped off, or even their heads. Paka whimpered, and Lur gripped her hand again.

Upstairs, a door banged open, and there were shouts. Gi, alerted, began to shout as well, rousing everyone. All around them, the other children were jerking awake, scrambling to their feet. Lur, however, was turning his head back and forth, listening. "They've surrounded the house. Quick, Paka. The grate!"

The grate was a small hole covered with a metal plate which let into the city's sewers. They all used it for their personal business, but only Lur had ever actually had the nerve to go into that ghastly place to see where it led. He had then taken Paka, telling her that, if they ever had to escape, no one would follow them there.

Upstairs, someone screamed. As one, Paka and Lur leapt for the small square of metal, jerked it up, and squeezed their skinny bodies into it. They dropped a few feet and landed in water up to their shins. The splash sent up a reek that made them gag, but they staggered away toward the nearest turn in the tunnel. Once around that, no one would be able to see them, and no adult would be able to follow them. Even dogs wouldn't be able to track them here.

Hearing the squeal of rats, feeling the loathsome water seep into her thin shoes, Paka ran as fast as she dared, one hand on the wall. About thirty feet up the tunnel from the corner was a drain, and a few feet of crawling along that would bring them up into the street, well outside of the ring of constables.

Then she stopped, just short of the drain, with a small cry. Lur slammed into her. "What?" he hissed.

"My box! I don't have my box!"

"No one will find it. You can go back for it later."

"No! They might tear down the house!" That had happened to Gi once before, when the constables had been called by an irate landowner on whose property Gi had been squatting.

Lur was silent for a moment. "Yeah. They might."

She whirled. "I have to go get it!"

He gripped her arms. "No. You're too slow. I'll go. It's my box, too." The box held not only her most cherished possession, but also his. He was right. "You go on. Meet me by the butcher's. I'll probably catch up with you before you get there," he promised her, and ran back down the tunnel.

Almost mindless now with fear for Lur and revulsion for the sewer, she made the crawl up the drain and pulled herself into the street within minutes. Shuddering, but not bothering to try to clean herself, she raced up the street, turned into the alley behind the butcher's shop, and fitted herself between two barrels in the deepest shadows.

To her shock, a few minutes after she had hidden herself, someone came into the alley who was not Lur. There were three people, but in the dark, the only thing she could be sure of was that they were all three women – and one, she wasn't positive about, because that one had a sword. One of the women must be old, too, for the moonlight shown on white hair.

The three stopped just inside the alley. "Are you sure this is the place?" asked one of them.

"Yes, I'm sure. Although I admit that it's hardly promising," said another in a low, gentle voice.

The third one said, laughing, "What a lovely smell! What is it?"

The first one said, "Offal, I imagine. That's a butcher's, out front."

"I didn't notice that," murmured the soft voice dulcetly, "but I suspected that might be the case."

The laughing one found that very funny, for some reason. "Didn't see the sign, did you, Mazya? Koras, you are such a stick. She's teasing you."

The soft voice, Mazya's, said suddenly, "Ril, please be quiet a moment."

All sound abruptly ceased. Mazya murmured, "There is another smell here. Lithi, if you please?"

Paka held her breath, but none of them moved from the alley entrance. She thought she was safe. Then, horrifyingly, a large snake crawled over her feet. Unable to stop herself, she screamed and bolted out of her hiding place. She tried to run around the women and escape, but the tall one was too quick. An iron grip seized her from behind, around the waist, and swung her around. She struggled wildly, twisted her head, and sunk her teeth savagely into an arm.

"Son of a bitch!" yelled her captor, and Paka started to slide down through the loosened grip like an eel. Something hit her on the side of the head, stunning her.

The soft voice cried out. "Don't hurt her!"

"I didn't. Just gave her something to think about. Damn, she bit me! And she's covered with slime. After this, we are going to a healer. And a bath house." The hard hands lowered Paka to the ground and held her upright. "Is this her?"

"Yes, it is."

The musical voice said, "But she's just a child!"

"Age isn't relevant." The old woman knelt before Paka, taking Paka's chin in her hand. "Child, stop fighting. We mean you no harm. Gods, she's trembling."

"She's wearing nothing but a few rags," said the musical voice. "Here." She took the short cloak from around her shoulders and draped it over Paka.

"She smells like she's been in the sewer," growled the voice above her head.

"I have," Paka said. "Let me go. I probably have some really bad disease."

"I'm sure," said the harsh-voiced, hard-handed woman. "And now I probably have it, too."

"Koras," chided the old woman.

Then the snake came slithering toward them. Paka screamed and flung herself at the woman holding her, climbing her like a pole. "Oh, great," muttered Koras as Paka left a trail of grime up the front of her body.

The old woman picked up the snake and draped it over her shoulders. "Don't be afraid, child. This is not a snake. Here, pet him."

"No!" She cringed away.

"Pet him. I promise, he won't bite. Come on."

"No," said Paka, but less fiercely.

The lady stroked the snake, smiling, and it disappeared into her clothing. "There. Is that better, my dear?"

"That's disgusting."

"That's what I say," agreed Koras. "Look, brat. If I put you down, will you promise not to run away until we've talked to you?"

"Are you constables?"

"No, nothing like that," said the old woman. She reached out and touched the side of Paka's head. "We want to talk to you about the mark. Have you seen it yet?"

Paka gaped at her, too astonished to lie. "You... you can see it?"

"Yes, I can."

The third woman said, "We aren't here to throw you in prison or anything."

"No, nothing like that," agreed the old woman. "My name is Mazya. I'm a priestess. This is Birili. She is a harper. And the person holding you, or rather, that you are holding, is Captain Koras, my guard. What is your name?"

They were the strangest people Paka had ever had experience with. She had no idea how to act. But she couldn't leave the alley, for that was where Lur would look for her. And in some way, the old woman's voice reminded her of her mother's voice, although her mother was nothing more than a few dim memories now.

Koras loosened Paka's grip on her and lowered her to the ground again. She gave her a minatory poke between the shoulderblades. "Answer the lady."

"Why should I?" Paka demanded.

"Why shouldn't you?" asked the harper lady.

That was a good question. After a moment, she said sulkily, "My name is Paka."

"Paka, where is your family?" asked the old woman.

"I don't have one."

Koras said, "There were children swarming out of that place like roaches. I bet she's one of them."

Paka started to bolt again, but Koras caught her arm. "Quit that! We aren't handing you over to – who was it?"

"The constables," said Birili.

"Right. The constables. We don't even know them, and I don't think I even like them. Chasing a bunch of children around with clubs," Koras sneered.

She released her grip on Paka's arm as Paka relaxed, but Paka didn't take the chance to run away. She wanted to know more about the mark. "What do you want?" she asked, still sullen.

"We'll talk about that later. First, I think you should have a bath," said the priestess.

"And some food," said the harper.

"Is she thin?" The old woman ran a hand over Paka's chin and shoulder, and Paka realized that her eyes weren't moving. She was blind! "But how did you see the mark?" she blurted.

"That is all I can see. Dear me, you're right, Ril. She's all bones."

"And teeth," growled Koras.

"Come with us, child," said the priestess as she rose. "We'll protect you, and take good care of you."

"No!" Paka dragged back, and when Koras attempted to pull her, she screamed and tried to bite the woman's hands. Gripped and lifted off the ground, she screamed louder and struggled with all her might.

"Stop, stop!" begged Mazya. "Koras, Paka! Stop!"

Both of them froze. Mazya said, "Paka, why won't you come with us? We won't harm you, you know we won't."

"I can't leave here! Lur is coming." Her voice hitched. She was afraid he wouldn't be coming. "He... I promised I'd be here. He's meeting me here. I can't leave."

"And who is Lur?" asked Mazya quietly.

Her voice calmed Paka. "He's my best friend."

"Then we will all wait for him here. Will he come if he sees us, or hide?"

She pondered that. "He'll come if he sees me and sees I'm all right."

"Then we will all sit and wait for him. Koras, is there anything to sit on?"

Koras released Paka and dragged out a couple of crates. Paka sidled up beside the priestess and gripped the woman's blue robes in one hand, glad to be free of the other woman. She pointed at the sword. "You'd better hide that. He won't come if he sees that."

"No, of course not," muttered the soldier, but she removed the swordbelt and dropped it behind the crates.

The three of them sat, and the priestess took Paka into her lap. The other two drew back from the smell, and the snake slid out onto the ground and disappeared. But Mazya just held Paka close, but loosely, not trapping her. "While we wait for your friend, let me tell you about the mark on your head. You've been chosen by the Dawn Dragon. Have you ever heard of him?"

"No. I've heard of dragons," she added helpfully.

"The Dawn Dragon isn't like the dragons in stories. He rules all the world and makes it prosper."

She jutted her lip out. "He's not doing a very good job."

Startlingly, Koras let out a crack of laughter at this.

"He is doing more for us than the Twilight Dragon will. But now the two dragons must fight, and we have to help the Dawn Dragon win."

"Why?"

"Because if Nathduil – that's the Twilight Dragon – wins, the world will become a more difficult place than it is now. Summer will be hotter. Winter will be colder. Famine and diseases will kill people."

"They already do."

"How many people do you know who have died of famine or disease?"

Paka took this literally, and thought. She held up both hands, some fingers folded on the right hand.

"Six? Only six? If the Twilight Dragon was here, every child in that house would have died of a disease. Or an earthquake would have made it come down on top of you."

"If he doesn't like people, why doesn't he just eat us?"

"Because he needs people. Just like Steleduil does. Without people, the two dragons cannot fight, and all the world would fall apart."

She pondered that for a long time. At last she said, "Why does he want me? What can I do? I'm just a little girl."

"You're a big girl. You're – thirteen, maybe?" Mazya guessed.

"I don't know. I think so."

"So you're a big girl. And very brave. Why wouldn't the dragon want you on his side? He wants me, and I'm blind."

"You don't have a mark."

"Yes, I do. So does Birili. You just can't see them. Feel."

Tentatively, Paka reached up and touched the white hair. She felt the familiar coolness of the mark, traced it down. "What am I supposed to do about it?" she asked.

"You must come with us to Stelenath Mountain..."

"Where is that?"

"A long way from here."

"And then what?"

Koras said dryly, "You know, Birili, this girl is pretty smart. She's asking more questions than you did."

"That's because I already knew most of the answers," laughed the harper.

Mazya said, "Why don't you sing one of the songs for Paka? One of the songs which include the Talons? That will give her a better idea."

To Paka, there was a dreamlike quality to the next half hour or so. They were sitting on crates in an unlit, dirty alley, but she was folded in a cape that was so soft, she had to keep rubbing her cheek on it to be sure it was real, and around them floated the pure, sweet, strong voice of a harper, seeming to make the air sparkle with its glory. Even when the song was done, they sat in silence and the bricks around them seemed to continue to vibrate.

At Paka's insistence, they remained in the alley until after daybreak. When daybreak came, however, Paka was forced to admit that Lur was not coming. She leaped down from Mazya's lap. "I have to go back to Gi's house," she said.

"Why?"

"To find Lur." And get my box!

Koras snorted, but Mazya rose slowly and said, "Very well. Where is this place? Will you lead us there?"

She took the blind lady's hand in her own. "I'll lead you, and I won't let you stumble. I know how to do this. Bosto used to pretend to be blind, and I sometimes guided him."

"Why?" asked Birili. "I mean, why did he pretend to be blind? Was it a game?"

Paka stared at her. "No. For alms, of course. Blind children always get a lot of alms, but you have to be very good at it to convince people. Bosto was the best."

Koras and Birili exchanged a look, but Paka didn't understand it. She didn't understand adults most of the time anyway. She led the blind lady carefully along. "It's just around the corner there. Here, right over..." She gasped.

Gi's house was gone. The constables really had torn it down, and all of the upper floors had collapsed into the basement. "Oh, no. Oh, no!" She dropped Mazya's hand and raced to the wreckage.

"Wait!" Koras was right behind her. "What are you doing?"

She let herself down into the rubble, balancing on a board that wobbled alarmingly.

"Get back here, you idiot!"

"No. I have to get it."

The other two women came up, Birili rapidly explaining to Mazya what had happened. Paka paid no attention to them. She desperately looked for a way downward, into the rubble. She could find none. Too much debris was piled up, far too much for her to move, and too much for even a girl as small as she to climb through. Worse, through some of the cracks, she could see scraps of color. Arms, legs. Not all of the children had made it out of the house.

She tilted back her head and wailed her grief. She didn't even notice when Koras leaped lightly onto a piece of rubble, snatched her up, and rapidly handed her to Birili before scrambling out again as fast as she could. But Paka turned in Birili's arms and buried her face in the harper's shoulder, sobbing and wailing.

She was only vaguely aware of what happened after that. She cried until she was exhausted, then fell into a half-doze in which she was helpless and almost senseless. She knew she was given a bath in hot water, but she was too grief-stricken to appreciate the sensation, or the clean, soft clothing with which her rags were replaced, or the soft bed on which she was at last laid to rest. She curled up and let her consciousness go away, just as she sometimes was able to do when Gi was beating her for not bringing enough loot back and she couldn't bear it. She couldn't bear this, and she escaped.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Paka woke in the soft bed, in a room filled with sunshine. At first she had no idea where she was, and she thought perhaps she had died. Then she turned her head, saw the harper lady sitting in a chair beside her bed, and remembered everything.

Her box was lost to her. Lur was missing, maybe dead. She was alone again, just as she had been at the orphanage, and on the streets before Gi had taken her in. Only now she didn't even have her mother's stone. A tear of self-pity rolled down her cheek.

"Paka? Are you awake?"

I am not going to be a baby. I am not. "Yes."

The lady hadn't noticed the tear, apparently, for she asked cheerfully, "Would you like something to eat?"

Her stomach growled. "Yes."

"I thought you might. Stay here, I'll fetch you some food."

Paka sat up and looked around the moment she was gone. It wasn't in her nature to stay where she was told by anyone who wasn't standing there to enforce the order. Except, of course, for Gi, but Gi was probably dead or in prison waiting to be dead.

She was in a room. At least, it must be a room, for it had four walls and a door, but she had never been in a room like it, not that she could recall. It was clean, with a round, colorful rug on the floor, a bed, a thing with drawers, and two chairs. When she got up and went to the window, she saw that she was overlooking a street that she did not know.

She sat on the bed again. She was lost. She didn't have any idea what to do next. She had to trust these adults, but every time she had trusted adults, she had ended up in places she hated. She wanted Lur. She plucked at the soft material of the gown they had put her in, feeling odd about the lace that edged the bottom of it, and staring at her own feet, which she had never before seen clean.

The door was opened by the soldier lady, and the harper lady – Paka had forgotten their names – came in with a tray. "Mazya says just gruel until your stomach is accustomed to rich food," the harper said in her cheery voice as she set the tray on the bed beside Paka, "but I coaxed the landlady into some fresh milk, too."

Paka stared down at the bowl. She was used to gruel that looked like thick grey water. This was a pale gold color, and it had lumps in it. "What are those?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just a little dried fruit and bits of bacon."

She tentatively dipped the spoon into the thick stuff and tasted it. It was good. It was so good that she finished the entire bowl in seconds, holding it up to her mouth to get it shoveled in as quickly as possible. She drained the glass of milk just as quickly, then hiccupped. Birili laughed, and Mazya, just coming into the room, smiled at the sound. "Did you eat well, Paka?"

Paka nodded, then remembered the woman couldn't see her and said, "Yes."

Birili said, "You wouldn't believe the difference in her, Mazya. She's a pretty little girl."

"I believe that." Using her cane to guide her, the blind lady came to the bed, found the tray and handed it to Birili, and sat beside Paka. "I am very sorry for your loss, my dear," she said. "But perhaps your friend is not dead. At the very least, we know he is not among those who were taken up by the constable. Capt. Koras checked on that this morning."

Paka gave the soldier lady a startled, grateful look. Koras shrugged. "I got bored and wanted to take a walk."

"He must be alive. He was too smart to be caught in the basement, and... and I would feel it if he was dead. Wouldn't I?"

"Yes, I believe you would. I tell you what. We need you to go with us to the mountain. You know that. But once that is all taken care of, some of us will come back here with you, and we will try to help you find your friend. The dragon may even help us."

Paka felt lightheaded. "I don't understand. Why? Why do you want to help me?"

It was the harper lady who answered, after a pause. "Child, not all the world is bad. In lots of places, that's what people do, they help each other. They care for each other, just like you told us that you and Lur cared for each other. You'll get to see that. And you will never, never have to go back to a place like that house. I promise you that."

Mazya smiled approvingly at her, but Koras rolled her eyes. Paka felt an odd urge to giggle.

Mazya said to her, "Come with us, and we'll prove it to you."

"All right. I will. But the dragon won't eat me, will he?"

"No. I promise, I won't let that happen."

Lur grunted as he dragged himself back into the basement. The grate was a lot harder to get through going up than going down, and his shoulders, which had broadened over the past year, were having trouble fitting.

The din upstairs was worse, with the sound of splintering wood being added to the shouts and stamping. The floor of the house, over his head, groaned in a way he didn't like. He swiftly dug the little metal box out of the ground and stuck it into the pouch at his waist. He would have to find a better hiding place quickly, because the most casual search would expose it. He turned to go back down the grate, and that was when the roof fell in.

He watched, open-mouthed, as it happened in slow motion before him. The floor above, on this end of the basement, bowed downward like a full waterskin, then broke with a deafening crash. Huge beams fell through the gap, along with a table and chair that shattered into kindling when they hit the bottom. Beams as thick as Lur's body covered the grate, and also the place where he had been digging only a moment before.

The constables were bringing the house down.

A horde of rats went scurrying past him. He whirled and raced for the stairs, screaming at the others to follow him. "Come on, come on, come ON! This is all coming down! Quick, quick!"

Some of them beat him up the stairs, although he took them three at a time. Others followed, screaming in their fear, and he stopped at the top and turned to help them, reaching down a hand and jerking them through as they grabbed at him. The bottom part of the stairs was ripped away by another falling beam, and Lur stripped off his shirt and used it like a rope to pull up the last two onto the steps that remained. There were others still down there, he realized, sickened. He could hear screams. But there was nothing he could do for them.

He led the others out of the house, where most of them fell into the hands of the constables. He dodged one pair of grasping hands and rolled past another, and thought he was safe, but even as he started to run in earnest, his collar was gripped, and he was pulled ruthlessly back and shoved into a group of children ringed by constables armed with clubs.

He eyed them, hostile, looking for any kind of break in their ranks. Before he found one, however, rescue came to him in the most unlikely form imaginable.

He heard the quick clip-clop of hooves first, which was surprising enough, but when he looked toward the sound, he saw some kind of lord coming up the street, and that was enough to make him stand there gaping, forgetting everything else. Lords did not come to this part of Deneba. It simply didn't happen, any more than it snowed in high summer. But the man could be nothing else, with his cap and embroidered clothing, the fancy sword with a jewel in its hilt, the silver on his horse's harness, and the two men-at-arms that flanked him.

They rode right up to the ring of constables, all of whom were as astonished as Lur himself and simply stood there, gaping, until a lift of the lord's brow recalled them to their manners and they bowed jerkily, like puppets.

"These, my lord?" asked one of the men-at-arms.

An idea suddenly occurred to Lur, and it filled him with so much anger that he spoke without thinking. "You! Was it you who set the constables onto us?" he yelled.

One of the constables turned, raising his club, but was checked by a single gesture from the lord. "As a matter of fact, no," he said. "I have no idea who these men are, in fact. I was just passing by, looking for someone."

"Which one, my lord?" asked the man-at-arms. Both soldiers had no eyes and ears for anything except their master.

"That one, of course," said the lord, nodding toward Lur. "Bring him."

Lur had heard some extremely unpleasant stories about lords who kidnapped young boys. He backed away. "I'll take my chances in prison."

"No, I don't think so. You," he barked at a constable who had raised his club to punish Lur's insolence. "If you strike that boy, I will have you killed." He wasn't speaking casually; one of the men-at-arms had already raised a crossbow and was pointing it at the man. The lord looked at Lur again with a calm smile. "I have no intention of hurting you, boy. You will fare much better with me than in prison. But you will come with me, even if I must have you dragged behind my horse." He nodded to the two men-at-arms. The one put up the crossbow, and both dismounted and came toward Lur, carrying ropes. For a wild second he looked about, trying to find a way to flee, but the constables still ringed him, and the man was on a horse. Furious, he let the men tie his hands behind him.

"Put him up here," said the lord as Lur was manhandled out of the ring of constables, and the two men shoved him up onto the saddle before the lord. "Good heavens, boy, but you smell foul," the lord said conversationally as he took up the reins again on either side of Lur. "You smell as if you have been in a sewer."

"I have."

The horse turned, and the man said, "Don't stiffen up. That will make the horse nervous. Just relax and trust me. The first thing, I think, will be a bath for you."

"I don't need one."

"My dear young man, I have a pretty good idea what is in your mind, and I do wish you would rid yourself of the notion. I do have a use for you, but believe me, it is nothing that you can possibly imagine."

"I have a good imagination."

"Not that good. But I will make you a bargain. Go with me quietly..."

"I don't have a lot of choice about that, all tied up and on your horse." He was getting queasy from nerves, so high off the ground on something that moved so erratically.

"Go with me quietly," the man patiently persisted, "and listen to what I have to say to you. Once I have finished, you may accompany me where I am going, if you wish. And I think you will. But if you do not, then you are free to go wherever you please. I shall neither constrain you nor pursue you."

"What the hell does that mean? You talk like a book."

"I mean that I won't tie you up, lock you up, or chase you."

"Like I'll believe that."