Marcus grabbed the oars and drove them deep into the water, propelling the boat toward the exit. Determinedly he rowed and kept rowing, grunting at the stinging pain in his bandaged palms.

“What is it? I can’t look!” Evelina lifted her head out of the folds of the blanket, she stared, terror-stricken, around her.

Marcus didn’t answer her. He lacked the breath. The boat shot out of the cave. The soldiers vanished. The dragon’s eyes watched Marcus row, plunging the oars into the water, pulling, lifting, plunging, again and again, until the eyes were far behind him. Sweat poured off him.

“What’s wrong?” Evelina cried.

“Didn’t you see the dragon?”

Evelina glanced timidly over her shoulder, then looked back at Marcus.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t see anything.”

“It was there, watching us.”

Or was it?

Illusion. An illusion created by the dragon. An illusion meant to show Marcus that his puny magicks, of which he was so proud, were the mewling of a babe compared to the magic of the dragon.

Marcus slumped over the oars, his strength gone. His hands burned. His arm muscles jumped and twitched.

A hint of your doom. Come inside and see the rest! See the dancing girls take off their veils! All for the price of . . . your soul.

Marcus was tempted. He would open the door just a crack . . .

“Don’t be a fool,” said a female voice, quite clearly.

“You’re right.” Marcus smiled wearily at Evelina. “That would be foolish.”

“Maybe it would,” said Evelina, regarding him strangely. “But I didn’t say anything.”

10

THE MOON HAD RISEN AND, THOUGH PAST THE FULL, THE NIGHT had shaved off only a sliver, so that its light was bright in a cloudless sky. Marcus and Evelina continued traveling the broad expanse of the river, keeping away from the shore. Not even Evelina wanted to stop for the night so near the horrible cave. She was rowing the boat now. It was either row or linger in the place that had driven her prince mad.

Marcus dozed fitfully in the bow of the boat. At least when he was asleep, he wasn’t talking crazy, talking about what he’d seen in the cave or hearing the voices of dragons in his head. There had been nothing in the cave. Evelina had hidden her head in the blanket so she wouldn’t see anything horrible, but, consumed by a dreadful fascination, she’d peeped out from between the folds. She’d watched the cavern slide by, dark and empty. And no one was talking to him, either.

“You’re tired and hungry,” she had told Marcus in soothing tones. “And your poor hands! They could be hanging in a butcher’s stall, they’re so red and raw. Let me row, at least for a little while.”