This was not that sort of dragon. It didn’t have wings, and it didn’t seem disposed to offer any kindly wisdom. It was a lizard the size of a small house, with eight legs, each so thick that Isaac and Alice could not have linked hands and put their arms around it. It had a long, canine snout with a serious overbite and two enormous fangs like a serpent’s sticking out like tusks on either side of its lower jaw. On each side of its arrowhead-shaped skull were three eyes, huge hemispheres that gleamed like black diamonds in the weak sunlight. They were lidless and unblinking, and reminded Alice more of some kind of insect than a reptile.

Its scales were grey-white, and two long black stripes ran down its back. Its tail, as long as the rest of it put together, coiled behind it in an elaborate S-shape and was never still, even while the rest of the beast was perfectly at rest.

Alice was struck momentarily dumb. She could see herself reflected in all six of those eyes, the distorted image compressed to a tiny dot amidst the endless rock-field. All six tiny Alices shifted in unison as the Dragon took one step forward, then another. The way its legs moved was wrong, too fluid, as though they had extra joints. Its sinuous tail lashed and coiled from side to side.

It spoke without moving its jaw, like Ashes, but in a voice so deep and resonant, it rattled Alice’s skull. It was the voice of a mountain crag, or an ancient, secret cavern.

‘Pathetic,’ the Dragon rumbled. ‘This is what my sister sends against me, after so many years? Children? And the little bones always stick in my teeth . . .’

It opened its mouth in a long, slow yawn. A black, snaky tongue licked out and tasted the air.

Alice opened her mouth to speak – or perhaps it had been hanging open anyway – and realized she had no idea what to say, or how to address a dragon. She stuttered lamely for a moment, and settled on, ‘Hello.’

‘What are you doing?’ Isaac said. He was crouched beside her.

‘Trying to talk to it,’ Alice whispered. ‘Shh.’

‘You can’t talk to it,’ Isaac said. ‘It’s a dragon.’

‘If it can speak, it ought to be able to understand.’

‘Who says it can—’

‘Hello, yourself,’ the Dragon said. ‘A brave little girl, I’ll give her that.’

‘Thank you,’ Alice said. ‘But nobody sent us here, and I don’t think I know your sister. I expect I would remember if I’d met her.’

There was a long silence. Alice was no great judge of dragon expressions, but she thought it looked surprised.

‘Alice—’ Isaac began, tugging at her sleeve. She stopped him with a gesture.

‘You . . .’ the Dragon said, drawing out the word. ‘You understand me?’

‘I think so.’