Exhaling in relief, Jeid released his magic. He hopped between boulders in human form, entered the eastern cave, and crawled through a short tunnel and into a chamber.

He straightened and lost his breath.

"Stars above."

His father sat on the floor, clad in his blue druid robes, blood staining his long white beard. Before him, a shivering young man lay upon a rug. The stranger's foot was missing. The stump was raw and red, still gushing blood, the shattered bones exposed.

"Hold him down, Jeid," Eranor said calmly. "Quickly. I need you to hold him down."

"Who—" Jeid began.

"Now."

Jeid nodded, stepped forward, and knelt behind the injured man. The stranger was shivering, his skin gray, his eyes sunken. Jeid held onto his arms.

When Eranor reached into the wound, the man bucked and screamed.

"Hold him firmly!" Eranor said.

Jeid nodded and tightened his grip, pinning the young man down. Eyes grim, Eranor fished out the sputtering vein. Fingers red, he tied the vein shut.

"Keep him still." Eranor swiped his beard across his shoulder. "This will hurt him."

"Who is he?" Jeid asked. The young man relaxed in his grip; he shivered upon the rug, his skin the color of the cave walls.

Eranor replied calmly. "A Vir Requis."

Jeid lost his breath. He stared down at the injured man. "You are . . . you can become a dragon."

The young man looked up at him. He managed to nod wanly. "I've heard of you." His voice was weak and hoarse. "You are Jeid Blacksmith of Oldforge. The whole north is speaking of you." He coughed, licked his lips, and managed to keep talking, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm from the Redbone tribe. When they discovered my curse, they chained my ankle to our totem. I shifted into a dragon. When my body grew, the chain dug through me. I rose as a dragon." He managed a wry smile. "My human foot remained behind. I—" Coughs overcame his words, and it was a moment before he could speak again. "I heard of the escarpment. I had to find you. I had to . . ."

His eyes rolled back, his body became limp, and he fell silent.

"Keep him down," Eranor said. He reached for a bronze saw and a bowl of boiling water. "He's unconscious, not dead, and he might wake. It's best if he sleeps through this part."

When Eranor raised the saw, Jeid felt himself pale. "By the stars, what . . ."

"It's not a clean cut." Eranor squinted at the wound. "The bone is jagged. If I sew shut the stump, the bone would only cut through it. I must file it down."

Jeid grimaced as his father worked, sawing through bone, filing the edges down, and cutting out infected flesh. The young man woke once and screamed, and Jeid held him pinned down. When the man fainted again, Eranor pulled skin over the wound and stitched it shut.