“So convenient!” Bill said.
Pa stepped inside, pushing the door shut. But the smithy was there, his weight heaving the door open and sending Pa sprawling on the floorboards.
Tomaaz’s heart hammered.
“Seize him,” Bill yelled. “We know what to do with filthy dragon lovers!”
With a cry, men surged into their home. The smithy dragged Pa out of the house by the ankles, his back and head thumping down the steps.
That had to hurt, but Pa didn’t cry out. “Hey,” yelled Tomaaz, drawing his sword.
He was instantly surrounded by a ring of men.
“Now, come on, Tomaaz,” said Pieter soothingly. “You don’t want to get hurt. We understand you standing by your father, but for now, you’re innocent. Make one move with that sword and that’s no longer the case.” Although his tone was reasonable, the threat in his words was as plain as the sword in Tomaaz’s hands.
Tomaaz couldn’t help Pa if he was in jail too, so he sheathed his sword.
“Hand us your weapons, son,” Pieter said.
Outside, the sound of a mallet cracked the air.
“I’m not your son,” Tomaaz snapped.
“Nor will you ever be,” Pieter barked back. “You’re the son of a filthy dragon friend.”
Fuming, Tomaaz shouldered through the ring and barged out the door, through the people milling outside their house. The smack of the mallet rang out. As he broke through the crowd, horror crept through Tomaaz’s belly.
Two men had driven a stake into the ground. Others were piling dry brush around it. Pa was struggling in the grip of the smithy while four men gagged him and tied his hands and feet to the stake.
Gods, they were going to burn him. No trial. No witnesses, just a dumb pig-headed burning in the middle of the night. Tomaaz frantically scanned the crowd for Klaus. Nowhere to be seen.
There! A flash of red hair in the torchlight.
Desperate, Tomaaz ran toward Beatrice, seizing her arm. “Beatrice, please, fetch Klaus. Hurry.”
Her eyes assessed him coolly. “Why, Tomaaz? Do you think you can talk your way out of this mess?”
“They’re going to kill Pa.” He clutched Beatrice’s arm tighter. “Please!”
“He consorted with dragons! He deserves to die!” Beatrice spat on Tomaaz’s hand. “Now take your hand off me or I’ll scream, and they’ll burn you too.” Her face was twisted with venom, ugly.
Tomaaz dropped her arm, stumbling backward.
Someone shoved him. He fell. A boot thudded into his ribs. He scrambled to his feet and dodged through the crush of bodies. Over the backs of several brawny men, Pa was now gagged and tied to the stake, on top of a pile of tinder-dry brush. Men were throwing tallow onto the brush. One torch and Pa would be in flames—burning alive.
Tomaaz’s skin crawled as he inched closer. He’d fight his way through, stick every man like a pig. He’d rather die than let Pa burn. He drew his knife from his belt.
As if he could read Tomaaz’s mind, Pa’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.
Pa didn’t want him to fight? The idiot! Tomaaz slipped his knife back into its sheath, hand at the ready.
“So, who would like to see this dragon scum die?” Bill roared, leaping upon the brush and squeezing his fingers around Pa’s throat.
Tomaaz’s hand flew to his knife handle. One well-aimed throw and Bill would be dead.
“Don’t you even think about it,” a voice whispered, making his neck hairs rise. A blade pricked his ribs. Pieter.
“Wait,” Ernst called, barging through the ring of men around the unlit pyre.
Where had he come from? He hadn’t been here when the others had knocked on the door.
“We haven’t heard any solid proof against Hans yet,” Ernst stated.
“His daughter’s gone,” roared Bill, eyes glinting yellow. “No one’s seen her since the beast appeared.” The flickering torches cast demonic shadows across Bill’s face.
“And his wife has left too,” someone yelled from the crowd.
“He’s a dragon lover,” called a woman.
“Sacrificed his daughter to appease the beast!” screeched another
“That’s just rumor,” Ernst bellowed. “What will Klaus do, if he finds you’ve burned one of his best farmers because of gossip?”
“What will Klaus do if he finds out we’ve been harboring a dragon lover?” Bill bellowed back. “Burn him now and get it over with!”
More yelling broke out.
“Pieter,” Bill called. “Come up here and show everyone the proof you have against Hans.”
Proof? What had Pa left lying around?
“I’m a little busy,” Pieter yelled back, the increased pressure of his blade making Tomaaz flinch. “But my daughter will bring it.”
Men stepped aside to let Beatrice through. She stood in front of the stake, facing the villagers. From her pocket, she drew a scrap of cloth. “This cloth was in Hans’ barn! It’s covered with dragons—bronze ones, silver and red. This proves he covets dragons. Loves them!”
How had Tomaaz ever thought she was beautiful? Her face was full of hate.
“Show me that cloth!” Tomaaz shouted. “Let me see it.”
“I, too, would like to examine it,” Klaus said, and the villagers parted like wheat stalks before an ox.
Where had Klaus come from? Then Tomaaz spotted Lofty, panting, near where Klaus had been. No doubt Ernst, on the neighboring farm, had seen the villagers’ torches and sent Lofty for Klaus.
Reaching the pyre, Klaus snatched the cloth from Beatrice. His face was thunderous. “Tomaaz! Come here!”
Pieter shoved Tomaaz.
He ran to Klaus, pushing through wide-shouldered men.
“Is this one of your pranks?” Klaus hissed. “Do you consider this funny?”
“No, sir.” Tomaaz put his hand out for the cloth. Klaus thrust it at him. Tomaaz couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath as he saw the pattern. “Bill was showing this cloth to Ezaara at the
