young, how he used to put salamanders in her boots?” Kronin observed wistfully.
“Of course I do.” Kronn grinned wryly. “It was my idea.”
Kronin returned his smile. “Come on, lad,” he bade. “You’re right. We need to talk.”
It being a festival day, the palisade was largely abandoned. A few guards remained on duty overlooking the town gates, but for the most part Woodsedge’s walls remained still and silent. Kronin hobbled up the ladder to the catwalk, then sat down and leaned heavily against the battlements. Kronn came up after, and glanced up and down the palisade. There was no one close enough to hear. He turned to follow his father’s gaze, north across the Blood Sea. There was a light chop on the water, whipped up by a wind that seemed surprisingly warm for so early in the year. The sky dimmed from sunset-red to twilight-purple, and stars began to glimmer beyond the clouds.
“Father, I’m sorry to be the one dragging you off to Kendermore.” Kronn murmured. He reached in his pouch and pulled out a pebble that had caught his fancy when he’d spotted it in a streambed a few days ago. It had been splendid then, shining with bright colors, but now that it was dry it was just another gray, uninteresting rock. Kronn threw it, watching it sail over the cliff, into the surf. “I hate to interrupt your retirement.”
“Bah,” Kronin said. “Retirement’s boring, and I’m looking forward to a good fight.” He reached over and patted his son’s foot. “Actually, I’m glad you and your sister were the ones who came for me.”
“Catt was the one who offered to look for you, truth be told,” Kronn said. “Pax sent me along for protection.”
Kronin scoffed. “You’re the one needs protecting!” He looked across the village, toward the town square. “Thousands of ogres,” he remarked. “That should be interesting. Still, we’ve faced worse.”
Kronn grunted noncommittally. In his father’s lifetime, the kender had stood against the dragonarmies, the Knights of Takhisis, and the legions of Chaos. Still, something about this situation made him uneasy.
The sound of laughter and clapping hands rose from the town below, echoing weirdly off the walls of the town’s randomly scattered houses.
“How’s Paxina doing?” Kronin asked.
“Not badly,” Kronn answered. “You must have rubbed off on her-she’s a pretty good Lord Mayor. Better than I’d ever be, anyway, even if I did want-” He stopped suddenly, a deep frown darkening his face.
“Kronn?” Kronin asked. “What’s wrong?”
It was a moment before the younger kender answered. His eyes focused on something far off, a flash of movement against the darkening sky. “Uh,” he said, “have you noticed, there’s an absolutely enormous dragon out there?”
“Really?” Kronin asked, glancing up at his son with genuine interest. “What color?”
Kronn squinted. “Red.”
“Oh,” Kronin said, nodding sagely. “That’s just Malystryx-or Malys, as folks around here call her. Don’t worry about her. She turned up about a year ago-has a lair at Blood Watch, apparently. Caused an awful row among the humans, but she leaves us alone. Usually she just circles, but every now and then she puts on a show out over the water, too. A few weeks ago she picked a whole sailing ship up out of the sea.”
“She did?” Kronn asked, looking at his father sharply.
“Yup. It wasn’t a small boat, either. Just plucked it from the sea, flew over and past us, and dropped the thing somewhere in the forest. Saw it with my own eyes.”
“But you say she’s harmless?”
“Oh no, she’s harmful,” Kronin said. “But like I said, she doesn’t seem terribly interested in us.”
“Then why’s she heading straight this way?” Kronn asked.
“Eh?” With some difficult Kronin pushed himself to his feet. He looked north through the gathering gloom. The great, red dragon was indeed coming toward them, moving with dizzying speed. “Well, that’s unusual. I wonder what she’s up to.’
“I don’t like dragons,” said Kronn.
“Me neither,” said Kronin. He shrugged. “But what can you do? Don’t worry. Maybe she’s chasing something in the water-sharks, sea elves, that sort of thing. If she really meant to attack us, she’d come from above, not straight on like th-”
Before he could finish speaking, Malystryx pulled up sharply, climbing high into the sky. The two kender watched her rise, until at last she disappeared into a cloudbank.
“Hmm,” said Kronin.
A deafening screech descended from the clouds, a furious sound that made Kronn clap his hands over his pointed ears. In the town below, the music and laughter came to a sudden stop.
Kronn looked at his father, who was still staring up.
“Definitely unusual.” Kronin’s face darkened as he stared. “Go!” he said all of a sudden, through clenched teeth.
“What?” Kronn asked.
“Go! Find your sister, and that fellow of hers,” Kronin ordered. “Get the villagers into the woods.”
“But,” Kronn sputtered.
Kronin shook his head stubbornly, raising his hoopak. “I’ll only slow you down. Don’t wait for me.”
“Father-”
“Quickly, boy!” Kronin snapped. “Move!”
Kronn ran, leaping onto the ladder and sliding down to the ground. He bolted toward the courtyard, glancing over his shoulder. Kronin still stood atop the palisade, gripping his hoopak tightly. Then Kronn rounded a corner, and the village’s thatched rooftops blocked his father from view. He sprinted even faster, bursting at last into the center of town.
The courtyard was filled with kender who stood in clusters, watching the dragon’s long, sinuous form slip from cloud to cloud. They felt no fear, of course; just rapt fascination. A second shriek rang down upon them, loud enough to rattle windows.
“Catt!” Kronn shouted, pushing through the astonished crowd.
“Kronn!” answered a voice. Catt shoved several kender aside as she hurried to her brother’s side. Giffel jogged along behind her. “Where’s Papa? What’s going on?”
“We’ve got to get these people out of here,” Kronn said tersely. “Giffel, can you round up the other off-duty guards?”
“Sure, Kronn.”
“Then do it,” Kronn ordered. “Get to the town gates, and wait for us there.”
“Right.” Giffel dashed off.
Kronn grabbed Catt’s arm. “Try to get everyone’s attention.”
“Oh,” she murmured, looking up worriedly. “All right.” She took a deep breath, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Excuse me!” she bellowed in an exceptionally loud voice. All around her, kender jumped, startled by the sound. “Hey! Everyone, listen up!”
Hundreds of eyes turned toward them. Kronn pursed his lips, impressed, then went over to a nearby tree stump and hopped up on it. “Folks,” he said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him, “I’m afraid I have to break up the party. Can everyone please start heading for the gates?”
They listened up well and moved in surprisingly orderly fashion. Kronn and Catt jogged along at the rear of the throng, as Giffel and his fellow guards ushered the villagers through the gates and down the path toward the Kenderwood. Once they were free of the town, the kender broke into a run, glancing up and behind as they sought some sign of the dragon. They moved with eerie silence, their puffing breaths and the whisper of their feet through the grass the only sounds of their passage.
Kronin watched them go from atop the palisade. Grunting with satisfaction, he reached into his belt pouch, pulled out a slingstone, and loaded it into his hoopak.
A third screech descended upon Woodsedge. Kronin glanced up and saw the dragon drop through the clouds. Her wings were folded back against her, her fang-lined mouth gaping wide as she came down like a falling star. The sound of her descent was the howl of a hurricane.
“Wow,” Kronin said, duly impressed.
He brought his hoopak back, watching, waiting, then slung it forward in a quick, practised motion. The
