The Book of Deacon (17 page)

Eventually the dragon imitated long enough
for Myranda to spray some water from the canteen into the gaping
maw. The dragon quickly learned what to do now, and continued to
hold its mouth open until its thirst had been slaked, at the cost
of the rest of the contents of the canteen.

"Now I have to melt snow down to replace it.
If this keeps up, you are going to be the world's most spoiled
dragon," she said.

Unslighted by the remark, the dragon padded
over to the bedroll and lay down.

"Tired already? You just woke up!" Myranda
remarked.

It paid her no mind, curling its tail around
its legs and settling its head comfortably onto its folded over
neck. Myranda smiled. It was good to have a companion, though a
baby dragon would hardly have been her first choice. As she stared
at the creature, it shifted to rest its head on her lap. Myranda
began to pet dragon in the way it had come to crave. As she did,
both sighed in contentment.

"You know, you need a name," Myranda said.
"Would you like that?"

The dragon made itself more comfortable and
puffed out a breath.

"When I was a little girl, I used to lay like
this, with my head on my mother's lap. That was a long time ago,
but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was back in a place
called Kenvard. You know, down there it isn't always snow that
comes down. We actually would get rain for most of the year. Not
just rain, but thunder and lightning, too. I was afraid, and when I
couldn't sleep, I would come out and lay like this, and she would
tell me that it was all going to be all right.

"You know what she called me? Myn. I
misspelled my name that way the first time I tried to write it, and
she called me that ever after. I think it suits you. After all, I
was a lot like you back then. Young, naïve . . . I was not covered
with scales, though. I suppose we weren't so alike, but still. I
think that is what I will call you. How do you like it?" she
asked.

The beast yawned and stretched.

"I suppose I ought to take that as a yes,"
she said, wedging herself into the bedroll beneath her
freshly-named companion, and drifting off into a purposeful
sleep.

#

Morning came with a sharper than average
chill. The dragon had slept the whole night through on top of
Myranda. When she awoke, the creature seemed deathly cold. The
night had taken quite a toll. Myranda scolded herself for not
realizing the danger Myn would have been in, exposed to the
elements all night.

"Myn? Are you all right?" she asked
desperately, nudging at the frighteningly cold neck of the
dragon.

It slowly opened its eyes and yawned
sluggishly. The little dragon stood and stretched stiffly. She
seemed weak, her tail dragging the ground and her head sagging.
Myranda was well and truly fearful for the dragon's health when,
suddenly, it puffed out its chest. A moment later a surge of
brilliant orange flame erupted from the creature's mouth. Instantly
she seemed to perk up. Myranda was more than a bit startled, but
the improvement in Myn relieved her.

"So, you
can
breathe fire," she said, standing and
placing a hand on the neck of the dragon. Myn was a good deal
warmer, which reminded Myranda just how cold the air was. "I wish I
could."

When the bedroll had been packed away they
set off. The events of yesterday had set Myranda behind. The food
would run out today, leaving them both hungry--with at least
another day of travel ahead of them,
if
they hurried. Myn had no trouble keeping
up with the brisk pace that Myranda set, often running ahead to
inspect the odd flutter or rustle, disappearing from sight
periodically. Sundown brought her much nearer to her goal than
she'd expected. Having a friend to talk to, even one that did not
understand a word she said, helped the miles pass quickly. They set
up camp at a clearing that Tus had described before she had left
the headquarters. At the center was a larger tree with an arrow
carved into it. The arrow pointed off into the thick of the
forest.

"You see that?" Myranda asked Myn. "Tus said
his partner carved it. It points in the wrong direction, so that
people will not find their trainer. Clever, in a terrible, cruel
way. Imagine if we were lost. That arrow would send us off to our
end. Isn't that nice of them? It must take a heart of stone to do
what they do. And I have joined them! What a lovely turn my life
has taken! The good news is that this arrow means that, so long as
we wake bright and early, we can make it to Wolloff's by midday
tomorrow. It seems a life of restless wandering has made me quite
the hiker. That will teach Caya to underestimate me!"

Myn seemed unaffected by the sarcasm that
flowed. Myranda tossed the last piece of meat to the dragon, who
snatched easily out of the air. A fire was started, again without
the help of the dragon, and Myranda cooked her woefully inadequate
share. The whole of the day had been spent at a near run, leaving
her exhausted and famished. She had barely finished her food before
she nodded off.

The dragon joined her on the bedroll and the
two slept blissfully until morning. The next day afforded a much
slower pace, as the destination was so near. Hunger burned in her
stomach, making Myranda wish she had saved her food for breakfast.
Myn, on the other hand, seemed more energetic than ever.

"What has gotten into you?" she asked.

Myn merely stopped to look at Myranda, then
continued her excited prancing about. A squirrel appeared between
two trees ahead and Myn launched herself after it. Despite the
tremendous distance between the predator and its prey, Myn was
nearly upon the creature in moments. The hapless animal shot up a
tree, only to be followed with equal speed by the hungry dragon.
Snow rattled from the branches as the chase continued unseen. Just
as Myranda reached the base of the tree, the squirrel reappeared,
launching itself from one of the upper branches. Myn leapt with all
of her might after the morsel, her jaws agape. She snapped them
shut just a hair away from the rodent's tail. The lucky squirrel
continued on into the next tree. The far heavier dragon did not
fare so well. She plunged earthward, colliding with the trunk of
the tree and sinking into a pile of snow below. More snow rained
down from the shaken branches, thoroughly burying the downed
dragon.

Myranda rushed to the landing site, concerned
for the little dragon. Myn emerged from the drift, shaking off the
snow. All that seemed to be injured by the horrid-looking fall was
her pride, as her face bore as near to a look of embarrassment as
the reptilian features would allow. After a glance at the tree, the
dragon knew her prey was gone. She trudged sheepishly to Myranda's
side.

"That was a nasty fall," Myranda said,
patting her on the side. "Is this what you've been doing on your
little jaunts out of sight? You made a very nice attempt though. If
you keep that up, I'll be the only hungry one."

Myranda shook her head.

"You are two days old, and already you've
come closer to catching your own meal than I did in my first ten
years! Why do I feel as though we humans were not treated fairly in
nature's balance?" Myranda wondered.

Before long, a rather precarious-looking
structure peeked out above the lower tree tops. As it grew nearer,
it became more and more apparent that the tower was standing out of
sheer habit. Large sections of the wall had fallen away, planks of
wood hastily put in place to patch them. The roof showed the
faintest hint of having been painted blue, but time and the
elements had wiped it away ages ago. Finally, they reached an
equally faded red door with a barred slot at eye level. Myranda
gave a knock. After a particularly long wait, the slot slid open
and a pair of ancient eyes peered out.

"Aye," came a thickly accented voice.

"I was sent here by Caya," Myranda said.

"I know no one by that name," he said.

"I have this," Myranda said, producing the
writ.

"Give it here," came the voice, a pair of
withered fingers appearing at the slot.

Myranda offered up the paper Caya had given
her. It was snatched away and, after a few moments of irritated
muttering, the voice rose again.

"The money?" he asked, or rather,
demanded.

"I was not given any. Caya needed time to get
the silver together," she said.

"NO! NEVER AGAIN! WE HAD AN AGREEMENT, I AM
TO RECEIVE TWO--YE GODS, WHAT IS THAT!?" he ranted.

Myn, intrigued by the new scent and new
voice, stood on her hind legs and leaned her front feet against the
door. That had just managed to bring her eyes to the slot, and she
peered eagerly inside, startling the ranting old man.

"Myn, get down from there! I'm very sorry,
Mr. Wolloff. That is just Myn. She is a dragon," Myranda
explained.

"I can see that! I have eyes, haven't I! What
is it doing here?" he demanded.

"I . . . It is difficult to explain," she
said.

"Never mind. Get inside, but the dragon stays
outside," he said.

"I don't know if I can keep the dragon
from--" she began.

"The dragon stays outside!" he screamed.

Myn jumped back, startled by the man. The
door flew open to reveal a white-haired man. He was precisely as
one might imagine a wizard, rendered frail by the mass of years
gone by. His clothes were simple, and immaculately white. A brass
amulet with a clear crystal hung about his neck. He grasped it and
spat out a trio of arcane words. A sharp, brief pulse of light came
from the stone within to signify the casting of the spell. Myn
dropped to the ground as though struck. She was no longer
moving.

"What did you do?" Myranda insisted.

"Relax, lass. I put the little demon down for
a rest. Now get inside before I wake it and sic it on ye!" he
said.

Myranda reluctantly moved inside, keeping her
gaze locked on the motionless dragon until the door slammed
shut.

"Are you certain she will be all right?"
Myranda asked.

"Aye,
she
will be just fine. As for you, I'll expect a bit
more speed and obedience from a pupil. That
is
what you have come for, I
trust," he said.

"Yes," she assured him.

"Right, then you will be needing food, I
suppose," he said.

"I would appreciate it," she said.

"You will find the kitchen there," he said,
pointing a crooked finger at one of the three remaining doors.

Myranda turned to the door. The room she
stood in was, to say the least, well used. Books with faded writing
lay open upon every surface. Half-empty vessels of strong-smelling
powders and liquids were scattered about, making the air stale with
the smell of potions. A rickety table with a single chair made up
the dining area, it would seem, while the parlor consisted of an
overstuffed chair strategically placed between the crackling
fireplace and the table. She walked to the flimsy wooden door her
host had indicated.

"I shall take my meal in here. When you are
finished you may bring it out to me," he called after her.

She stopped in her tracks.

"You want me to prepare food for you?" she
said in disbelief.

"Aye. You know how to cook, I assume," he
said without looking up.

"Well, I do, but I have just spent days out
in the cold, most of them on my feet," she said. He quickly cut her
off.

"Then I would imagine you would jump at the
chance to spend some time in front of a warm fire," he said with an
infuriating cheerfulness.

"I--" began her retort.

"I do not want to hear it. Until that woman
sends me my silver, you are not a guest, not a student, not a
customer. You are an unwanted tenant! AND RENT IS PAST DUE! You
will do what I say, when I say it! That goes double when we are in
training! NOW GET TO WORK!" he commanded.

Myranda backed into the kitchen, taken aback
by what he had said. As she gathered the meager selection of
ingredients, the girl wondered two things. First, why was this man
so ill-tempered? Second, how could someone who seemed so fragile be
so forceful and commanding? When he spoke one could not help but
act. Perhaps learning magic taught such a trait. She half desired
and half feared gaining that quality in her time here.

The meal, a simple vegetable stew, was
finished and set before Wolloff in one of the plain clay bowls she
managed to find in the kitchen. He shoveled the food into his mouth
as Myranda cleared the uncushioned chair of books and other debris
so that she could join him at the table. By the time she was able
to sit, the wizard had nearly finished. When the last of his share
was finished, he pushed the bowl across the table, turned back to
the fire, and returned to his reading.

Myranda finished her meal and carried the
bowls to the kitchen to wash them. By now, she knew better than to
expect gratitude from her host. She returned to her seat, sitting
quietly and thinking of the dragon sleeping in the cold just
outside the door.

"You know, the dragon . . ." Myranda
began.

"The dragon stays outside. It breathes fire
and my home is filled with sensitive, irreplaceable,
flammable
objects. The
blasted creature lives outside. It does not need to come in!"
Wolloff said.

"Well, when will she wake?" she asked.

"In a few hours. Listen, lass, I cannot be
answering questions all day. You'll be occupying my time for
months, so I'd like to get a wee bit of my own work done tonight.
You'll be spending most of your time in the tower. That is where I
teach, and that is where you will sleep. Why don't you head up
there and make yourself at home? Anything to get you out of my
hair!" he said.

Myranda rose and headed quickly to the door,
eager to be away from the irritating man. The stairs inside the
tower were quite a match for its exterior. Less than a handful of
the entire spiraling flight were fully intact. The rest had corners
or centers crumbled away or cracked. It was only with great care
that she managed to reach the top. There she found a room, perhaps
half the size of the room downstairs. It was round, with curved
bookcases lining the sections of wall between windows, of which
there were three. One faced south, one north, and one west.