“You are facing the rising sun,” the dragon said. “I am changing and will walk with you down to the village. We are on the mountain above it.”

Stammel waited, turning his head … if that was sunrising, then this way was summerwards … it would be a view over water toward Old Aare, and that way would be north—he sensed something there, some dark looming mass.

“The mountain,” the dragon said. “The people here say sometimes the mountain blows fire. They believe a fire dragon lives deep within it. And they say I am a wizard. Take my arm.”

It took them some time to come to the village; the trail was rough, and the dragon took care that he did not fall. Stammel did not try to memorize the way; he let himself think only of the sounds and the scents … the clong-clong of some belled goat or sheep, the clatter of small hooves on rock, dung-smell and fox-smell, the cries of seabirds, and then the stronger scent of the sea as they descended and a sudden whiff of baking bread. Voices now: children shouting, a woman scolding in a southern dialect he had learned to understand back in Siniava’s War, in Sibili or Cha or some other place south of Andressat.

“It’s the wizard! He’s come back!” someone said from a small distance. A youth, he thought. Footsteps, coming nearer, more than one pair, and a lighter step running away, and a child’s voice crying out “The wizard! The wizard!”

“Well, wizard, who is this you’ve brought?” A man’s voice, good-natured but firm.

“A friend,” the dragon said. “A good man who lost his sight and now needs a quiet place with useful work to do.”

“He has the look of a soldier,” the man said.

“I was,” Stammel said. “But no more.”

“We have no soldiers here,” the man said. “But if you are the wizard’s friend, we welcome you. I work with wood; my name is Cadlin.”

Soon others arrived, some introducing themselves at once to Stammel while others talked to the dragon … the wizard, he reminded himself. The wizard was still talking to them when a woman named Sulin offered him food and led him a little distance, putting his hand on a bench. He sat down, and she brought him bread smeared with oil and salt, then handed him a pottery cup of water.

“I see you’ll do well here,” the dragon said after Stammel had finished the bread and was listening to the woman explaining to a child how to wind yarn properly. “I may be back from time to time. Be well, Stammel.”

“Thank you,” Stammel said. He could see the man-shaped fire move away and did not try to follow; he turned his face once more to the sun.

“Can you see at all, then?” the woman asked.

“Only the light, nothing more,” Stammel said.