Handbook for Dragon Slayers Read Online Free PDF

sleeping lumps of Sir Kunibert’s trainees and the male servants clustered around the hearths.
    In summer, retainers like these found more privacy by sleeping goodness knew where, but when the cold came, they made do with their friends’ elbows and farts and bad breath all night long. As for me, summer or winter, I always shared a bed with my mother and our handmaidens. I stared at the sleepers with bitter jealousy. Winter was on the doorstep, but in a few short months, they could sleep under the stars if they wanted.
    â€œ Hsst , Tilda.”
    I almost jumped out of my skin. I looked around to find a shadowed figure on the floor, a silhouette against emberlight. It was Parz, leaning on his elbow and watching me.
    I waved slightly and was glad for darkness to cover my blush.
    He climbed to his feet and came closer. “Can’t sleep?” he asked in a voice just below a whisper.
    â€œNo.”
    He beckoned to me, and together we went outside into the restless autumn night. Dying leaves rattled in trees and skirled on the ground, and the chill air held the tang of woodsmoke and leaf mold. I shivered. I had no love for autumn winds; they made me think of the Wild Hunt, and elves, and all manner of unsavory and fey creatures.
    But there was no way I was confessing that to Parz.
    We stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the stars and the nearly full moon, and the clouds that dimmed them from time to time. We did not talk, until I blurted out, “I’ll miss you, Parz.”
    I could see his eyes turn toward me by their gleam in the moonlight. His teeth flashed briefly as he smiled. “I’ll miss you, too, princess librarian.”
    I suppressed a giggle. “You know I hate being called that,” I said, though that was a lie. I loved being called that.
    â€œI know,” Parz said. I hoped that was also a lie.
    We watched the moonlit clouds gather for rain. We didn’t say anything more, even when we turned and went inside. It wasn’t the farewell I might have wished for—but I would remember it always.
    T HE NEXT DAY DAWNED bright. I copied from On Horsemanship for a while, and then I continued working on Sir Kunibert’s accounts. It was easy to get through all of it without the constant interruptions of Alder Brook, and when I finished just before the midday meal, I stretched luxuriously, feeling unusually satisfied with the day’s work. It had all been so simple—just me and the parchment and the pen.
    I didn’t see Parz all day, but over morning bread and porridge I had eavesdropped intently on two of Kunibert’s other squires speaking in low tones about Parz’s disgrace. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn anything new—other than that Parz was in no way inflating Sir Kunibert’s bad opinion of him, and he was definitely leaving soon.
    Everyone flooded into the hall to eat dinner, and I didn’t say a word to Judith about having finished the accounts. I was wondering what I could write in the blank book, since I could conceivably spend a glorious, uninterrupted afternoon working on it before having to return to the concerns of Alder Brook.
    The only problem was, I didn’t know what to write.
    I was just about to dig into a dish of boar in sour and sweet sauces when a servant tapped Sir Kunibert on his shoulder, then leaned to whisper in his ear. Sir Kunibert looked up at me, a lump of half-chewed meat bulging in his cheek. “Your cousin is here.”
    I frowned in confusion. “My cousin is here,” I repeated, trying to understand.
    Sir Kunibert shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been told. He wants to speak with you, in private—I guess he’s in the courtyard.”
    He . I had only one male cousin, the son of the lord of Larkspur, where my mother had been injured. Why would anyone come all the way from Larkspur unless there was bad news? Why would he come on to Boar House from Alder Brook, unless the news was