The illusory body of the girl that Draconas had assumed sat up in the bed and sniffed at the good smells wafting through the small house. Draconas had used this illusion before, and he was quite pleased with it. Being a human child, he’d discovered, gave him a great deal of freedom.

Human adults take a tolerant view of their offspring. As a child, Draconas could be as curious and inquisitive as he liked, poke and pry and snoop, and adults would sigh and shake their heads and the worst they might do would be to send him to bed without his supper. He had learned that many humans, who might otherwise keep their mouths shut tighter than a clam shell when in the presence of an adult, tended to blab freely in the presence of a child.

“How are you feeling?” asked Rosa anxiously.

“Much better,” said Draconas in the girl’s high and piping voice. “I am hungry. What’ve you got to eat?”

He threw off the blankets and sat up in bed.

“Not too quickly,” Rosa cautioned. “You’ll make yourself dizzy.”

“I’m fine, really,” Draconas assured her. He reached out his little girl’s hand. “Thank you for helping me, ma’am. And thank you for not telling . . .”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Rosa said gently. “But you will have to go back to the Abbey someday soon, child.”

Draconas let his face fall and his shoulders droop. He ducked his head and made a swipe at his eyes with his hand. “I don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I want to stay with you.”

“There, there, child,” said Rosa, soothing him. “Don’t cry. You can stay with us a little while. Now come and eat something. You are much too thin. You need some meat on those bones.”

Draconas accompanied Rosa to the table. Anton was already eating, digging his spoon into a bowl of mutton stew. He welcomed the little girl with a broad smile and shoved a chair out with his foot.

Draconas picked up the spoon and was about to eat, when colors exploded inside his head.

“Draconas!” Malfiesto barked. “What’s this nonsense Anora has been spreading about her army preparing to attack a human kingdom? Is this true?”

Draconas dropped his spoon and put his hands to his temples.

“Child, what’s the matter?” Anton asked, alarmed. “Look at her, Wife. She’s gone white as sheep’s wool.”

“Army,” Draconas repeated inwardly. “What are you talking about? What’s this about an army?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!” Malfiesto raged in ear-splitting colors.

“Look, Malfiesto, this is not a good time. I can’t talk now. I’ll contact you later.”

“If you don’t, I will,” the dragon threatened. “Keep me informed! I’m taking charge, now that Anora has lost her senses. You are the Walker. You report to me.”