Handbook for Dragon Slayers Read Online Free PDF Page A

puzzled expression on his face. “I think someone gave me this as bonus payment for dispatching a particularly nasty nest of drakes.” He looked up at me. “You like books, don’t you?”
    â€œYes,” I said simply.
    â€œYou want this one? There are no words in it, but maybe it could be a little payment for your help here.”
    My mother, had she been home and let me come, would have made it clear that my duties at Boar House today were charitable, and that there would be no reward for them. Nor should I expect any. Nor ask for any. Nor accept any, if offered.
    But Mother wasn’t at home. Mother—I started guiltily with the realization that this was the first time I’d really thought about her since stepping through the door of Boar House—was lying in Castle Larkspur for the next two months with a bonesetter’s cast on her leg.
    â€œYes,” I said, and took the book back. “Thank you,” I added after my yes hung between us for a long moment.
    Fortunately, Sir Kunibert was a stranger to courtly airs and graces and didn’t notice my lapse of manners. He just grunted and thrust his wine cup at a passing servant.
    I picked up the lovely hand-sized book that was now mine and caressed its cover. I ran my fingertips over the soft, cut edges of its pages. Then I cracked it open and smelled the unique, faint aroma of all that soft, butter-white vellum just waiting for words.
    What was I going to write in it?
    I closed the book, stroked the cover again, and put it beside me on the bench, finally turning my attention to the meal.
    â€œW HAT ARE YOU GOING to do with your book?” Judith asked before we climbed into the pleasantly fumigated and aired bed she’d worked on that afternoon.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said, placing the book under my pillow. I hesitated, wanting to tell her all the other things that had happened at Alder Brook before we left, like my mother’s attempt to betroth me to my cousin Ivo; wanting to tell her how much time I spent dreaming of freedom from Alder Brook’s responsibilities and rumors and of writing alone in a cloister; wanting to ask about the way she had behaved with Parz earlier. But she yawned hugely, and I yawned hugely . . . and I was keenly aware that Sir Kunibert’s female servants were lying on pallets just a few feet away.
    It could wait until we had some privacy, I decided.
    As tired as I was, I found it difficult to slip into sleep. I lay awake, thinking about my mother laid up at Larkspur. I should write my mother a letter. I began composing it in my head, but every time I got past the greeting, I remembered Parz was leaving Boar House. My thoughts drifted instead to how I should say farewell to him. His friendship had meant so much to me, this boy who wanted to know all about books I’d read (as long as they contained dragons) and cared not in the least that I was a princess and a splayfoot.
    But how could I know if my friendship meant anything to him ? He was a year older than me, and certainly he was kind to me. But he was kind to everyone, it seemed, so what did that signify?
    I listened to the strange breathing patterns from across the room, staring at the flickering patterns of firelight on the walls, while my thoughts ran in circles.
    I knew that if I stayed in the room, I’d awaken my companions. I slid from the bed. I told myself I needed the privy, though I could have used the night pot. I just wanted out of the dark, close room. Judith had laid out my sable dressing gown and rabbit-fur slippers for the morning, and I gratefully donned both. Winter’s chill was already settling into Boar House’s stones.
    I crept from the room, crutch scraping flagstones clumsily in the dark. I winced and waited, but no one seemed to awaken.
    I let myself out into the darkness of the hall. But my feet didn’t carry me on to the privies. I stood at the threshold, watching the still,