“Who? W-what? H-how did they f-find us?” Curtis said, still clinging to some fragment of a dream.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam whispered. “It’s time to get up. It’s half past five.”
Groggily, Curtis sat up in bed and took his time getting dressed. “Think it’s cold out?”
“It’s snowing,” Sam said.
Curtis put on a black coat that came down to his knees. It was too large for him, and he explained how it had been his father’s. “It’s in good shape though,” Curtis said. “I’ll grow into it. It’s lined with fur from the hair of some big cat or other. Can’t remember what they call them. Some species of leopard that roam the high mountains. It’s unbelievably warm.”
The two of them tiptoed their way to the front door, but there was no way to prevent the floorboards from creaking beneath their feet. The more silent they tried to be, the more noise they seemed to make. Sam held Rusty with one hand, the flat side of the blade resting on his shoulder.
“Why are you bringing that? Cully?”
They both glanced over at Cully’s bed at the same time. The bully of a boy was still sound asleep; a strand of drool ran from his mouth and down his chin.
“No. For when we go to Surly Dragon Arms,” Sam whispered. “In case Jiao-long forgot, maybe seeing it would refresh his memory.”
When they reached the door, Sam grabbed the handle and opened it. The door made a sound like an old lady screaming. Several boys stirred in their bed, but none of them seemed to wake. Sam and Curtis stepped out, closing the door behind them.
It was cold out that morning. The snowflakes were large and clingy, but there was no wind to speak of, which would have made it worse.
“It’s freezing,” Sam said, shivering.
“Is it?” Curtis asked, acting as though his leopard fur hand-me-down coat made him impervious to the cold. “Can’t feel a thing through this coat. It actually feels rather nice.” But Sam noticed that his friend’s teeth were chattering.
“She’s not here yet. Come on, let’s cross over to the storage shed. That way we’ll be able to see her coming.”
The moon was a giant white orb in the sky. Its light reflected off the snow, making it easy enough for them to see where they were going. They walked a little way until they reached a squat stone building with a thatched roof. They stopped at the side of the building. Sam poked his head around the corner and had an unobstructed view of Dashelmore Square. He could see the lonely well standing vigil at the center. A few people, bundled up for the cold, were already crossing the square and moving along the path toward the village. Sam guessed that most of them were shopkeepers headed for their shops, off to an early start before the weekend shoppers trickled in from the surrounding villages.
“Maybe she isn’t coming,” Curtis said.
“She’ll come,” Sam said, hoping he was right.
At the far end of the square, a figure riding a tall black horse appeared. The horse trudged along slowly as if it was in no hurry to get wherever it was going. As it got closer, Sam could see the figure more clearly, and there was no mistaking the man who sat atop the black horse. He could see the figure’s tangled orange beard, the eyepatch over one eye.
“It’s Alsted,” Sam said.
“Where do you think he’s going?”
They watched in silence as Alsted and the black horse passed, following the path down into the village.
Is he off to spread the word? Sam wondered. He thought back to the meeting he had eavesdropped on. Is it about Demälikar?
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “Probably business for the King would be my guess.”
“How do you think he does it?”
“Does what?”
“Mount that horse? It’s huge, and he’s a dwarf. Maybe Felgorn gives him a boost?”
“I have no – look, there’s Sarah.”
Sarah came down the sloping cobblestone path, her blonde hair tucked beneath a winter cap that matched the white fur coat she was wearing. Her sword was sheathed at her side.
“Gee, I’m the only one not packing steel,” Curtis said.
Sam waved to her, making sure she saw him, and then slid back behind the side of the storage shed. There was no reason to be secretive, but it seemed more fun that way; pretending that they were on a dangerous mission that only the three of them knew about.
When Sarah reached them, Sam said, “Right on time.”
Sarah said, “You really need to get a scabbard for that thing. It must be awful lugging it around that way.”
Sam stared at his feet. “I’m broke.”
“Well, we’re going to see Jiao-long anyway,” she said. “Maybe he can fix you up cheap.”
“By broke, I mean no money at all. Not a single copper,” Sam clarified.
“We’ll see what happens. Shall we get started? It will be another hour before most of the shops open, but the Bard’s Tale opens early. We could stop off for a cup of hot chocolate. Nothing better in weather like this.”
Sam wondered what she didn’t understand about him being broke, but decided not to bring it up again. It was embarrassing having no money. He was sure he could have written his parents and asked them to send some, and they probably would have, but he felt guilty for having neglected to write them up to this point. It wouldn’t be right to ask for money the first time he wrote them.
They trudged through the packed snow and followed Sarah into the village. Lamps burned outside several shops, but the windows were still dark. Once they were in the village, the various paths branched off in many directions. Sarah took a right where the main road forked and led them around a winding curve, past a bakery called Rachel’s Treats (Sam caught the pleasant scent of fresh bread baking and his mouth watered almost instantly), a bookstore called the Cognizant Reader, and an alchemy supply shop called Gavin’s Snips & Snails.
Someday I have to spend a day exploring the village properly, Sam thought. There were so many shops he hadn’t seen before. The only bookstore he had ever been in was the Endless Shelf (which suddenly made him wonder how his friend Gnovis was doing), so the Cognizant Reader peaked his interest; he was sure they were bound to have books that Gnovis didn’t carry.
Fat lot of good it’ll be if they do, Sam thought. Since you wouldn’t have any money to buy any.
After navigating the maze that was Dashelmore Village, they came to a halt in front of the restaurant called the Bard’s Tale. Sarah went in first and was immediately greeted by an elderly man with a hunched back. He had a long hawkish nose with a wart growing out of the side of it; several curly black hairs had sprouted from the wart. Sam did his best not to stare at it as Sarah introduced them.
“Good morning, Lazarus.”
“Morning, Sarah. You look splendid as ever. A ray of sunshine on this dark winter morning! How’s you – the King?”
“Careful, you’ll make me blush, Laz,” Sarah said. “The King is well. Busy as usual. These are my friends, Sam Finch and Curtis…Something-or-Other.”
“Meeks,” Curtis said, shaking Laz’s hand. Sam shook the old man’s hand as well, averting his eyes to avoid staring at the hairy wart.
“Nice to make your acquaintance,” Lazarus said. “Any friend of Sarah’s…well, you know.”
“I told them you serve some of the best hot chocolate there is in a hundred mile radius,” Sarah said.
“Modesty prevents me from agreeing, but that’s what people say. Three hot chocolate’s coming right up!”
“Thanks, Laz.”
“Wait,” Sam said. Lazarus turned to look at him. “It’s just – as much as I’d love to try one, I can’t afford it.” He stared at the floor, ashamed.
“Nonsense,” Lazarus said, brightening. “For a friend of Sarah’s, the first round’s on the house!”
Sarah sat down at a corner table next to one of the front windows. Snow clung to the pane, but otherwise they had an unobstructed view of the shops across the street.
> As they waited for their hot chocolate, Sam scanned the room. The restaurant was cozy and mostly empty. A bard with a boyish face, his harp occupying the chair next to him, wrote furiously on a piece of parchment. Every few seconds he would stop, tilt his head upward, and hum several notes to himself before taking a sip from a glass of wine.
In the far corner, hidden in the shadows, three men sat at a round table, drinking from tall mugs of ale and playing a card game Sam was unfamiliar with.
Up at the bar, a broad-shouldered man with long gray hair was perched on a stool, nursing a beer in his hands. He appeared to be lost in some distant memory.
“I like this place,” Sam said.
“I always come here to get away,” Sarah said. “Laz is really nice, and no one bothers you. I’ve heard that the place can get a little rowdy late at night, but I’ve never witnessed that firsthand.”
“Did you see his wart!” Curtis said. He noticed the three men at the round table look up from their card game and lowered his voice to a whisper. “It was huge. He should at least comb the hair over.”
“That’s not very nice, Curtis,” Sarah said. “He’s a friend of mine, and I don’t appreciate you making fun of him.”
“Sorry…I just thought it was funny is all.”
Sam looked at Sarah and said, “He still hasn’t learned how to act in public.”
“Apparently not.”
Several minutes later, Lazarus appeared carrying three mugs of steaming hot chocolate on a tray. He sat one down in front of each of them.
“Thanks, Laz.”
Lazarus waited. Sam took a sip of his hot chocolate, his eyes widening in delight. It was so hot it scalded his tongue, but that didn’t matter. It was the best hot chocolate he had ever tasted. “It’s delicious.”
Lazarus nodded. “Glad you like it. I’ll give y’all some privacy, but don’t be strangers now.”
“We won’t,” Sam said cheerfully.
They talked, sipping at their hot chocolates as the darkness drained from the sky. The clouds were gathered high above, a dull gray, and the snow hadn’t let up, but Sam couldn’t have hoped for a better time. He felt more at ease and relaxed than he had at any other time since arriving in Dashelmore. Perhaps it was the taste of the hot chocolate and the cozy warmth of the Bard’s Tale that made him feel that way; perhaps it was because he was spending time with his two best friends in the world. At that moment, he didn’t care. His eyes were repeatedly drawn to Sarah’s face, watching her lips move as she talked, the way her blonde hair glistened like gold beneath the overhead lamps. He could feel the place on his cheek tingle where she had kissed him. Was this what falling in love was like? He didn’t know, but it was a wonderful feeling.
“Hey, Sam, did you hear what I said?”
“What?”
“Your head must’ve been in the clouds,” Curtis said. “I said I wondered what next year would be like. If it’d be a little more exciting than hand-to-hand combat and taking turns reading paragraphs out of our ethics book.”
“I told him that depends on whether he even makes it to second year,” Sarah said.
“Which was hysterical. Ha ha.”
“Beats me,” Sam said, still trying to pull himself back to the present moment.
“I know second year we get into enchantments,” Sarah said. “And dealing with multiple opponents. If I’m not mistaken, we’ll also learn how to deal with nonhuman enemies. Wraiths, vampires, and other strange beasts.”
“See, now that’s what I’m talking about.”
“It has been a bit boring,” Sam said, although perhaps he had an easier time tolerating it because he was learning magic on the side.
“We’ll have wyverns coming up soon,” Sarah said. “So that’s something. They’re far faster than riding a horse. A day’s journey by horse would only take a couple of hours by wyvern. I’ve heard they’re feisty though. Even the domesticated ones aren’t happy about being ridden.”
As time passed, more people filtered into the restaurant. Some of them would see Sarah and wave at her; she obviously wasn’t a stranger in the village.
Sam finished the last of his hot chocolate, making sure he had gotten every last drop out of the mug before sliding it to the center of the table. “Thanks for bringing us here,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Curtis said, still acting slightly downcast at having been scolded by her for making fun of the wart-nosed shop owner.
Sarah looked out the window and said, “It must be close to eight o’clock by now. The shops across the street are open, which means Surly Dragon Arms will be too.”
They slid off their chairs and headed for the door, waving to Lazarus as they were on their way out.
A part of Sam didn’t want to leave; secretly, he wished they could just waste the rest of the day in the Bard’s Tale, swapping stories and speculating on what the future had in store for them. Although he didn’t realize it at the time, Dashelmore was becoming his home.
When they stepped outside the Bard’s Tale, the biting cold brought Sam back to reality. The snow was wetter than before, clinging to his boots as they walked through the village. Sarah took the lead again as they took a left, then a right, then a left again, until they had crisscrossed so many streets that Sam began to feel dizzy.
Finally, they took a final left and Sam could see the main road ahead of them. Upon reaching it, they came out right next to Surly Dragon Arms.
“You really know your way around,” Sam said.
“I’ve spent a lot of time here,” Sarah said. “It gets less confusing with time.”
They took turns kicking the snow off each others’ boots before entering the spacious shop. Inside, Jiao-long was behind the counter polishing an intricately-decorated broad axe. He acknowledged them only briefly before returning to his task.
Sam stood inside the entrance, not sure of what he was supposed to do. Sarah nodded at him to go first. He walked up the center aisle until he reached the counter and laid Rusty down on top of it.
“No refunds, no returns,” Jiao-long said as he continued to polish the axe.
Sam glanced at Sarah again, feeling helpless. What am I supposed to do? She tilted her head toward Jiao-long, a gesture that said, Go on. Ask.
Sam said, “I don’t want to return it. I want to know if you can tell me anything about it. A few people seem to think it’s enchanted.”
Jiao-long stared at him, blank-faced. Sam found it impossible to read the man’s emotions, but after a long while, he thought he detected the faintest trace of a smile.
“Are you accusing me of knowingly selling an enchanted sword to a first year student?” Jiao-long asked, but there was no anger in his voice. “Especially since I’m well aware of the fact that first year students aren’t allowed to have their weapon enchanted.”
Sam shook his head vigorously. “No, not at all. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. All I’m saying is…maybe you didn’t realize it was enchanted? Maybe you forgot.”
“Forgot? Silly, danshi. I know each weapon that passes through this shop better than you know yourself.”
Sam didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t exactly argue with the Surly Dragon’s owner. He could only imagine the punishment he might receive from Alsted if he were to disrespect one of the villagers. With semester tests coming up, he might very well be expelled seeing as how there were bound to be several wash outs anyway.
“We all saw it,” Sarah said. Jiao-long listened, giving her the undivided attention he had withheld from Sam. “When one of the mages cast the Coldsnap spell on him, he resisted it. Instructor Volatine inspected the sword himself.”
Sam wanted to add that Lilah had also inspected the sword and arrived at the same conclusion, but he stopped himself from saying it.
Jiao-long picked up the sword and inspected it. Small rusty flakes drifted onto the counter, and he wiped them away with his hand. He stared at the sword for a long time. Sam
had the strange feeling that the Surly Dragon’s owner was putting on a show; that he was only pretending to examine the sword.
“It is a unique weapon,” Jiao-long said. “Very old.”
“But is it enchanted?” Sarah asked.
“Certain weapons do not speak freely. Some are good at keeping secrets.”
Sam spoke without thinking. “You’re the only one keeping secrets. There’s something you’re not telling us. Why? What’s so special about this sword?”
Jiao-long handed the sword back to him. “That is all I can tell you at this time,” he said. He picked up the battle axe and began polishing it again with a stained cloth.
“So you won’t tell us then?”
“All truths are revealed in time,” he said cryptically.
“Great. Thanks! That’s very helpful,” Sam lied.
Sarah seemed a little flustered, but managed to keep her cool. “Well, if you can’t tell us anything, maybe you could help us find a scabbard for it. As a favor to me.”
Something about the way she said it caught the shop owner’s attention.
“Certainly,” he said. “Let me check in the back.”
“Sarah,” Sam whispered, “I told you, I don’t have any money. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
They could hear Jiao-long rummaging in the back, muttering something under his breath. When he returned, he was holding a flimsy leather scabbard attached to a harness with a wide strap which was meant to be worn over the shoulder and across the chest.
“Try it,” Jiao-long said, now suddenly more polite than he had been earlier.
“Go ahead, try it on, Sam,” Sarah said.
With some effort, Sam tried it on, the scabbard against his back and the wide strap coming across his chest, where he fiddled with sliding the belt through the buckle and tightening it. Curtis handed him his sword, and Sam lifted it over his head, trying to sheathe it in the scabbard, but missing the first few times. “Takes some practice, I guess,” Sam said apologetically. Taking his time, he managed to sheathe Rusty. The leather was worn but not uncomfortable where the harness pressed snugly against his back.
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