“I’ll ride out to meet you as soon as I find my horse,” he said. “Which might take a while, thanks to you. Go away.”

The dragon took an enormous breath and huffed it out, twisting its head and glancing at Tisala briefly. Then it heaved itself onto its hind legs and up into the air, vanishing over the edge of a ridge of mountain to the west.

Tosten turned to her with a look on his face that was almost pleading.

Before he said anything, Tisala answered that look. “Hurogmeans dragon.”I’ve seen a dragon, she thought giddily.

“And when the rest of the world finds out we have one, they’ll be camping at Hurog’s doorstep waiting for a chance to kill him,” said Tosten, running a worried hand through his hair. “Damn it. He knows better than that.”

She nodded. “I’d pass out the word that Ward will be unhappy with anyone who tries to seriously pass around this tale if I were you. Not being a Shavigman myself, I never claim to see dragons.”

Tosten smiled wearily, and she remembered he’d ridden twice as far as Lord Duraugh and his men.

The runaway horses were caught and rumors flew about what had spooked them. (From what Tisala heard, only a few people had actually seen the dragon—they, like she, had been trying to calm their mounts. Most of them had had significantly more trouble than she’d had.) The cold night with just a hint of frost ensured that everyone was gathered around the small fire where Lord Duraugh’s cook was handing out bowls of warm mush.

Tosten cleared his throat and avoided his uncle’s eye. “It surely was a strange windstorm we had this morning.”

“Strange indeed,” answered Duraugh solemnly.

Tisala could tell by the expression on his face that Tosten had not thought his uncle would say anything. Tosten had known about the dragon, thought Tisala, watching their faces, but his uncle and cousin hadn’t until this morning. Hurog blue eyes met in a soundless argument, Tosten pleading for time. It occurred to Tisala that the dragon had had Hurog-blue eyes as well—just like Oreg, who’d gone to watch out for Ward.

“Frighted the horses but good,” said Beckram. “I dare say that a storyteller would make up something about a great monster who scared the horses—but that might make it harder for us to get the Hurogmeten out of the Asylum. These lowlanders are greedy for things they don’t understand; they might think that Ward had something to do with a mythical beast.”

Tosten gave his cousin a grateful look.

Lord Duraugh glanced about at his own men. “I would be very unhappy if a rumor were to make it more difficult to free my nephew. Very unhappy.” He sounded it, too.