Dragon's Boy Read Online Free PDF

forgotten the question in his nervousness.
    â€œYesssssss, I’m all right.”
    â€œWell then,” Artos said, putting one foot quietly behind another, “thank you for my wisdom and I’ll be going, sir.”
    A furious flame spat across the cave, leaping through the darkness to lick Artos’ feet. He jumped back, startled at the dragon’s accuracy and suddenly terribly afraid. Had it all just been preparation for the dragon’s dinner? Did the dragon season his prey with anticipation and fear? Had the stew gravy with the three lumps of meat been a small appetizer before the main course, which was to be an Artos roasted slowly on that gleaming nail over the dragon’s own fiery flames? Artos’ imagination worked double time, and he could already feel the searing agony of the fire, could already smell his flesh burning, could already hear the sizzling of his hair. Suddenly he wished above all things that he’d stayed at the smithy, waiting out the argument between Old Linn and Magnus Pieter to claim a sword. Any sword. Even a full-on-the-mouth kiss from Mag would be preferable to being a dragon’s dinner. If he got out of this, he promised himself to be nicer to Mag in the future. Taking a deep breath, he turned and ran out of the cave.
    Only the dragon’s voice followed him.
    â€œSsssssssilly child, that was not the wisdom.”
    From a safe place outside the cave, Artos called out. “There’s more?”
    â€œBy the time I am through with you, Artos Pendragon, Arthur son of the dragon, you will read inter linea in people as well.” There was a loud moan and another round of furious clacketing, and then total silence.
    Taking the silence as a dismissal, and clutching the book hard against his chest, Artos ran down the hill. Artos Pendragon. Why ever had the dragon called him that? He worried that particular bit of dragon wisdom over and over until the castle was in sight. After that, he’d only one thought in mind: What can I tell Mag about the loss of the gravy pot? It might mean another kiss. Actually, the dragon’s fires would have been preferable. And, comfortably forgetting his promise to be nicer to Mag, he ran all the way back home.

6
The Getting of a Sword
    T HE MINUTE HE WAS back in the castle, Artos found a quiet corner and opened the book. He looked at it grimly, turning page after page. There were no pictures in it, only writing; and it was immediately clear he wouldn’t be able to read it without help. The sentences were much too long and interspersed with Latin and other tongues whose letters were totally foreign to him. He could only guess at their meanings. He wondered if that were the between the lines the dragon had meant. Closing the book with a bang—which caused a great amount of dust to get up his nose, tickling him into three mighty sneezes—Artos was filled with disappointment. After all his courage in facing the dragon again and the kiss he’d bravely given to Mag, the least he’d expected was the promised wisdom. So much for promises!
    He couldn’t ask Father Bertram for help in reading it. The priest ( prickly as an old thorn bush, he thought) would never approve of any book other than the Testament or commentaries. The good father was fierce about what he considered proper fare for Christians, especially new Christians like the castle folk, still prone to backsliding. Artos remembered the great bonfires when Father Bertram had first arrived, into which the priest had personally flung book after book. Even Lady Marion’s Book of Hours , with its gold leafing and colored miniatures, a gift from the High King that had taken some four scribes the better part of a year to set down, even that had gone into Father Bertram’s righteous flames. And Lady Marion, who’d insisted they all become Christians in the first place, could not argue. Rumor had it that the book was burned because Adam and Eve