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the direction of Stary Les, the forest of great trees that begins near the foot of our hill and to the left of the main road.
    I look over at Paulek. He’s bouncing up and down in excitement as the ominous cloud of dust grows closer. As always, only I can hear Ucta’s and Odvaha’s silent voices. He loves them as much as I do. There’s no doubt their devotion to him is just as strong. They’d give their lives to protect Paulek. But his relationship is different and has been from the start.
    I remember the day we first met them. I was ten years old and Paulek was eleven. Both of us were certain that nothing in the world could ever harm us. Each of us was well-armed with bows and arrows over our shoulders and short sword at our sides. We were already accomplished horsemen. Our mounts were fine, spirited steeds. We thought ourselves two knights out to do great deeds. Perhaps we’d find a dragon to fight as our great ancestor did long ago.
    To be honest, I was not that eager to find a real dragon. It wasn’t as if we were carrying Pavol’s legendary pouch. I knew my older brother and I were playing at being knights. Paulek, though, really thought he was one.
    Still, each of us had been well enough trained by then to shoot an arrow through the knothole in a piece of wood sixty paces away. The sword training we’d received from our father and Black Yanosh had made each of us—big for our ages and strong as we already were—a match for most grown men.
    Before we left, Georgi came out with something wrapped in cloth.
    â€œYoung sir,” he said, knuckling his forehead and holding the bundle up, “you and your fine brother might have need of this.”
    â€œCome along, Rashko,” Paulek said, pacing his horse back and forth. He was impatient to set out on our valorous quest. “No time to waste. Remember Father’s words. The arrow not fired never strikes a target.”
    I reined my horse in to take what Georgi handed me. It was warm and the good smell that came from within was familiar.
    â€œBread and bacon, young sir,” Georgi said.
    â€œDakujem,” I said. “Thank you.”
    A knowing smile came to his face as he placed his finger alongside his nose. “Meant to be shared,” Georgi replied.
    I placed the bundle into my saddlebag and then forgot about it as we rode along. It was a beautiful day. A balmy breeze came down from the Tatras. A golden eagle described great circles in the sky above us. The warm spring light shimmered from the leaves of alders along the small singing streams.
    Despite the lovely day, finding great deeds to accomplish proved harder than we had expected. Our parents’ reputation combined with their light-handed rule of our diminutive dukedom had done little to improve the opportunities for knight errantry. There was no obvious iniquity. Not a single maiden in distress being kidnapped by dark villains. No huge, bloodthirsty monsters threatening the lives of the peasants diligently working their fields.
    In Mesto, the small town at the center of our land, all was equally and boringly at peace. People went about their business unmolested by ogres, trolls, or evil beings of any sort. Merchants smiled, waved for us to stop. I was tempted. Some sort of fair was going on. I saw bright-colored wagons and the painted shapes of an eye and a hand on a flag—the sure sign of a fortune-teller. A troupe of entertainers was just setting up near the blacksmith. I especially wanted to stay and watch the Gypsy jugglers, but Paulek was impatient.
    A thought had come to him. Undoubtedly it was a bit lonely after wandering companionless through my brother’s mind.
    â€œI have an idea!” he said, slapping his palm to his forehead.
    I almost fell off my horse. Even at ten I knew how rare a statement that was from Paulek.
    â€œI know just where we can go,” he continued.
    That was when I got worried. “Just where we can