Lucien fell silent. He looked hurt, as though she’d struck him. After a moment, he said softly, “What do we do now, Sorrow? You, me, the others?”

“We’ll be fine,” Sorrow said. “No, Lucien, no more questions! I have to think—”

The two stopped, freezing in place. Ven, preoccupied, kept on walking. Sorrow gave him a rough jerk on the arm. Then he heard what they’d heard.

The sounds were unmistakable—the tramping of heavy, clawed feet, shaking the floor; the movement of a massive body; the stentorian breathing of a dragon. The sounds came from behind them, from the Abbey.

“The dragon of Seth!” Lucien’s thoughts whispered in Ven’s brain.

“I’m going back,” Sorrow said abruptly.

“To hand him over to the dragon?” Lucien asked.

He glanced uncertainly at Ven, who stood there, unconcerned, as if they were talking about someone else.

“I don’t know,” Sorrow said, biting her lip. “Maybe. Take him to the cave, Lucien. Hide him in that place where we used to hide when the teaching humans came to us.”

“Sorrow . . .” Lucien began.

She cast him an exasperated glance. “What now?”

“Just ... be careful,” he said.

She rested her hand gently on his arm. “Everything will be all right, Lucien. Now, go. Quickly”

Lucien went, tugging Ven along with him. Ven might have tackled the youngster and made good his escape, but that required effort, and he had none to give. He didn’t want to hurt the boy, who’d been hurt enough already this night.

Ven walked on, his gaze on the ground, staring at his feet, listening to the sound of his claws and those of his brother’s scraping and clicking on the cold stone floor of the mountain.

26

WHILE VEN WAS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE AND MARCUS WAS SLEEPING off the effects of his dragon dream, Draconas sat placidly on a stool in Anton and Rosa’s dwelling and darned socks. He hoped, as he did so, that poor Anton would never have to wear these socks. He would surely get blisters, for Draconas was neither particularly skilled at darning, nor was he able to hold his mind on his work, for his mind was divided—part of it in the room, keeping watch on the monk, and part of it with Melisande’s sons. The socks suffered as a result, turning out all lumpy and misshapen.

Draconas’s enforced nap had lasted only an hour or so, then the monk brought the little girl out of the enchantment.

“There, now,” said Brother Leopold. “Don’t you feel better after a little rest? Come and join us by the fire.”

Draconas dragged his stool over by the fire, where Anton and Rosa and the monk sat; the couple bewildered and frightened, the monk completely at his ease. The monk asked Anton questions about his work, asked Rosa questions about her weaving, asked Draca about her friends and what games they liked to play.