Dragonclaw Read Online Free PDF

down what I could remember, from all the books. So many books were burnt, so much knowledge lost. I was afraid it would never be found again if someone did no’ try to remember.’
    Isabeau said nothing, thoughtfully choosing another honeycake from the plate on the unsteady table by the fire. She knew as well as Meghan did that although many of the scrolls and books piled on every table and shelf were written in Meghan’s spidery handwriting, this particular book was an enormous, ancient affair, bound in red leather, with a tarnished silver key as long as Isabeau’s longest finger. Each page was filled with handwriting different to the page that had gone before; many were ornately illustrated with brightly coloured pictures of dragons and winged horses, or the tracks of stars and moons, or the shape of unfamiliar lands. Like many of Meghan’s books, the last page was empty, untouched, yet Isabeau knew that if you should write on that page and turn the leaf, there would be another blank page there waiting for your pen.
    As Isabeau wondered why Meghan had denied the book’s existence, Seychella, apparently accepting Meghan’s explanation, went on to talk about how difficult it was to get the right ingredients for spells and medicines when the merchants’ ships no longer dared face the sea serpents. ‘I am almost out o’ rhinfrew,’ the witch said testily, ‘and the Power ken, I have no’ much murkwoad left either.’
    â€˜Aye, it may be time for a journey to the ports,’ Meghan said dreamily.
    Isabeau’s heart jumped with excitement. They had never ventured further away from the mountains than the highlands of Rionnagan. Isabeau had heard of the dangerous beauty of the sea, but she had never seen any water greater than Tuathan Loch at Caeryla. She hoped Meghan meant what she said. What an adventure! It would take months to reach the sea from their home, and they would have to travel half the country. She might see faery creatures, or sea serpents, or even visit the Rìgh’s palace.
    â€˜Bedtime, Isabeau,’ Meghan said, getting stiffly to her feet and gathering up the dirty dishes.
    â€˜But it’s only early—’
    â€˜Ye’ve been out on the mountain all day, remember. Ye can hardly keep your eyes open!’ her guardian retorted, limping around the room.
    â€˜But—’
    â€˜No excuses, Beau. Bedtime.’
    Reluctantly Isabeau bade the two witches goodnight and climbed up the ladder to her room, which was cold and dark. Faint light flickered up the stairs, but she did not bother to light a candle for her night vision was exceptionally good. She was able to see in the dark room almost as easily as she had out in the meadows that afternoon. Meghan had always said she could see like an elven cat.
    In her cold little bed, Isabeau slowly stretched her legs, enjoying the chill of the sheets against her skin, and wondering about Seychella’s unexpected appearance. Isabeau was certain it meant Meghan intended her to sit her Test of Powers. She would be an apprentice-witch, just as she had always longed to be. She smiled, imagining how she would impress the supercilious Seychella by passing the Test of Power with ease. She would make the black-haired witch’s eyes pop out. She was still planning her triumph when Meghan clambered up the ladder and came and sat on the edge of her bed, as she always did.
    â€˜Asleep, Beau?’
    â€˜Almost. Meghan, did ye mean what ye said about travelling down to the sea?’
    â€˜Indeed, I did. Things are afoot, and much as I am loath to leave our wee valley, if things are to go the way I wish, I must take a hand in the weaving. Now, go to sleep, Isabeau. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.’ With that tantalisingly cryptic remark, the old witch bent and kissed Isabeau on the forehead, between the eyes, as she did every night.

When Meghan was gone, Isabeau gave a wriggle of