Dragon's Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

to pass on his knowledge.” He looked down at the fiddle again and added wistfully, “If I’d’ve known, I would have had him building them Turns back.”
    “He’s a talent with wood, that’s for sure,” Zist agreed. He cocked an eyebrow toward Pellar, who had filled out and shot up in the two Turns since Zist’s disastrous trip. “You’ve the makings of a fine harper.”
    Murenny nodded in emphatic agreement, and Pellar’s eyes went wide with joy.
    “His woodcraft is as good as this?” Murenny asked Zist, with a hint of a frown as he tore himself away from the beautiful sheen of the fiddle and turned his attention back to its maker.
    “Better,” Zist told him.
    Pellar looked embarrassed. “I’m naturally quiet,” he wrote.
    “He crept up on me—caught me completely unawares—even though I’d told him to and was on the lookout,” Zist confided. He shook his head ruefully. “He’ll not be seen, or heard, unless he wants to.”
    “Good,” Murenny said firmly. “Otherwise I would have to think twice about letting him go.” His eyes strayed again to the fiddle and then up to Pellar.
    “I’ve seen you grow from a babe, youngster, and I’ve watched you more than you might imagine,” Murenny told him solemnly. “I need you to understand this: You will
always
have a place in the Harper Hall.” He gestured to the fiddle. “
This
just makes us more eager for your return.”
    Pellar’s eyes grew round as he absorbed the Masterharper’s emphatic words.
    Zist clapped his adopted son on the shoulder. “I told you,” he murmured softly in Pellar’s ear.
    Pellar blushed bright red, but his eyes were shining with happiness.

CHAPTER 2

    Flame on high,
    Thread will die.
    Flame too low,
    Burrows woe.
    C ROM H OLD ,
A LL -W EYR G AMES ,
AL 492.4
    C ome on, Jamal, you’ll miss it!” Cristov called as he weaved through the Gather crowd. He looked over his shoulder and frowned as he saw that the distance between him and his friend had widened. Jamal hobbled after him gamely on his crutches. Cristov stopped, then turned back.
    “I could carry you, if you want,” he offered.
    “I weigh as much as you do,” Jamal said. “How far do you think we’d get?”
    “Far enough,” Cristov lied stoutly. “It’s only a few dragonlengths to the edge of the crowd.”
    Jamal shoved Cristov away.
    “It’ll take forever with these,” he cried, waving at one of the crutches with his arm. Jamal had broken his leg a sevenday before and would be on crutches for at least two months.
    “Then I’ll carry you,” Cristov persisted, trying again to grab hold of his friend.
    “You couldn’t do it even if you were the size of your father,” Jamal said. Cristov hid a sigh; even if he were the size of Tarik, he’d probably not be big enough to carry Jamal.
    “You’ll be the proper size for the mines,” Tarik had said once when Cristov had complained that all his friends were taller than him.
    “I can still try,” Cristov persisted. Jamal groaned at him and tried to shake off Cristov’s aid.
    “There’s your father,” Jamal said in a low tone. Cristov looked back to the edge of the Gather and saw Tarik. Their eyes locked, and Cristov’s heart sank as his father beckoned imperiously to him. “You’d better go. He looks like he’s in one of his moods.”
    “I’ll be back,” Cristov said as he started away. Not hearing any comment from Jamal, he turned back but Jamal was already hobbling away, nearly lost in the Gather crowd. Cristov wanted to sprint after him, to turn him around, to meet his father with a friend at his side, but—
    With a grimace, Cristov turned back to the edge of the Gather crowd and caught the look on his father’s face, Tarik repeated his impatient, beckoning gesture and Cristov knew why Jamal had left.
    “I just wanted to spend some time with Jamal,” Cristov said as he neared speaking distance.
    “Never mind him,” Tarik growled impatiently. “You’ll make new friends up at