ʺRescued,ʺ said Dag. ʺHe rescued Sippy. Sippy’d’ve died.ʺ
I could feel the blood beating against my skin as if the Firespace had got inside me. I knew Dag was trying to say that I’d done a good thing, but it was way too near my secret, that I wanted to be a healer. Besides, I hadn’t done such a great job healing Sippy.
ʺAnd who is Ralas?ʺ the old guy went on smoothly.
I didn’t say anything. I could feel the stutter waiting to happen some more. I stared at the floor. Then Sippy inserted himself between my knees and I had to look at him instead. He put his head on my leg and stared up at me with his two big fringy eyes—foogits have amazing eyelashes: they’re good at everything to do with hair—as if he was trying to tell me something. He needed a good brushing. He was covered in dust and dragon oil too. The third eye was hidden again, under his topknot.
After the pause got long enough to be uncomfortable, Dag said, ʺRalas is our village all-sorts wizard. But she’s a good one. She can do all kinds of stuff and never makes a fuss about it. None of us knows why she stays in our little nowhere village.ʺ
ʺAnd how did you come to adopt—rescue—your foogit?ʺ the old guy went on implacably.
This time when I still didn’t answer Dag leaned over and banged my foogit-free leg with his hand. ʺHey. Wake up. This is your story.ʺ
I raised my eyes to the old guy’s face and sighed. ʺWe—my parents and I—were at a craft fair a few towns away from home. Sippy was just a pup, and he was lost, and he had a broken leg. He was crying, and everyone was ignoring him because he was a foogit and he had a broken leg. So I picked him up. The town wizard’s door-keeper wouldn’t even let me in, so there was only me, and I made a mess of setting his leg and by the time we got back to Ralas, who will help anyone, it was too late and he’ll always be lame, but at least he’s alive. And he doesn’t seem to mind. And he eats pretty well. Sir,ʺ I finally remembered to add.
The old guy took his way-too-penetrating eyes off me for a minute and looked at Sippy. As if Sippy could feel that gaze burning into his butt he lifted his head off my leg and pranced around the room a time or two.
ʺI don’t see any lameness,ʺ said the old guy.
Dag made a little grunt I knew well. It was a big-brother-about-little-brother grunt. ʺSippy hasn’t been lame in years. Ern seems to need to go on believing he did it wrong.ʺ
Stop, I thought at my brother. Just stop.
ʺAre you Ralas’ apprentice then?ʺ said the old guy.
ʺNo, sir,ʺ I said, trying not to look miserable, which is how I felt every time I thought about not being Ralas’ apprentice. And before he asked me the next obvious question, I said, ʺI’m not anybody’s apprentice.ʺ I could feel the old guy’s eyes boring into the top of my head again but I refused to look up.
ʺHmm,ʺ said the old guy. ʺWell. I had better warn you you’ll be expected to come to the council meeting.ʺ
I jerked my eyes up then, really fast, to see if he was talking to me, and he was.
ʺYou and Sippy are rather the heroes of the hour, you know,ʺ the old guy went on, ʺand the fact is that most of the Academy is very eager to know more about how you did it.ʺ
ʺDid what?ʺ I said. I was too terrified to stammer, but my voice went up about three octaves.
ʺBrought Hereyta into the Firespace, and brought her back out again, of course, you idiot,ʺ said Dag, before the old guy could say anything. ʺIt wasn’t me!ʺ
ʺI didn’t do anything!ʺ I squeaked.
ʺYou jumped off Hereyta’s back when she was about a league up in the sky!ʺ said Dag.
ʺThat was just stupid!ʺ I said.
The old guy laughed. ʺIt worked,ʺ he said.
ʺIt was still stupid,ʺ I said, truthfully. ʺAnd I didn’t jump. I went after Sippy. Which is even stupider.ʺ
The old guy looked at me thoughtfully for a minute or two. I glanced at him sideways. I was longing to know about the delor leaf. I couldn’t see any self-protective rigidity when he moved but he’d be the kind of guy who wouldn’t let pain show until it killed him. ʺYou said your Ralas told you a lot of stories about foogits. What sort of stories were they?ʺ
I stopped looking at him sideways and stared. What sort of stories?
As if I’d said it aloud, he said, ʺWhen there’s a foogit in a story, what usually happens?ʺ
ʺOh,ʺ I said slowly. ʺThe foogit usually does something really stupid.ʺ I added reluctantly, ʺAnd then something good happens that wouldn’t’ve if it hadn’t’ve.ʺ
ʺYes,ʺ said the old guy. ʺAnd since I think getting the rest of what I want out of you would be rather harder than wringing blood from a stone, I’ll say it myself: and usually the person who then makes the something good happen after the foogit does something ridiculous—I’m not going to call it stupid—is a rather special person, and often the hero of the story.ʺ
ʺOr if he isn’t the hero he steals the story away from the hero,ʺ said Dag dreamily. I hadn’t realised he’d ever listened to any of Ralas’ foogit stories. But Dag likes all animals, like me.
The old guy laughed again. He had a rather nice laugh. If only he’d slouch a little. ʺWe all saw what happened when you disappeared—I don’t think anyone on the field was looking at any dragon but Hereyta from the moment the first one lifted off the ground—did you dive after Sippy to get back out again as well?ʺ
ʺNo,ʺ said Dag. ʺErn just stood up and looked around a minute and then pointed.ʺ
I hadn’t known Dag had seen any of it. Last thing I knew he was leaning on his hands with his eyes shut. ʺNo,ʺ I said in my turn. ʺIt’s something about making a triangle with three of us looking in the same direction, Hereyta, Sippy and—someone. I think the two of them and Arac had been doing something like it as part of Sippy’s running-around game, on the ground. I don’t know why it seems to take three of us when Hereyta’s only missing one eye. I don’t know anything. I don’t know why it worked and I don’t know how to do it again. Maybe you can train Arac to do—whatever.ʺ
ʺMaybe we can. And if important discoveries were easy more people would make them,ʺ said the old guy.
ʺMaybe it’s not an important discovery!ʺ I said. I wanted to lie down again and put the pillow over my head.
ʺOh, I think it is,ʺ said the old guy. ʺIf this were a battlefield situation you might be right—at the end of everything anything is possible, and the gods sometimes send a miracle that will not be repeated. But this—pardon me, Dag, Eled and Setyep—this was only one year’s First Flight at this Academy. What you did, Ern, is something that can be done. We need only learn the mechanism for it.ʺ
Only. I wanted worse to lie down and put the pillow over my head. And for everyone to go away.
ʺYou’re tired,ʺ said the old guy. ʺAnd not surprising. What you did . . . well. You’ve proved it was possible but it was not easy. The council meeting is tomorrow. You and Dag will be called for midmorning. You can rest till then.ʺ
ʺHe doesn’t need any more sleep,ʺ said Dag in the brutal way of brothers. ʺHe’s had plenty of sleep. He gets tired as a way of making himself invisible. It doesn’t work as well as it used to, before Sippy. And before he was always looking around for people who looked hurt or worried and then groping in his pocket for some stinky leaf or dirty root that was going to make them feel better. I know,ʺ he said to me, ʺthat sidling around and looking tired and harmless is the reason why so many people let you give them your stinky leaves and dirty roots, but it’s not going to work here, okay?ʺ
ʺYes, I’d noticed the sidling and harmless,ʺ said Eled.
ʺIt’s the little ones you have to watch out for,ʺ said Setyep. ʺYou don’t want to underestimate a little one.ʺ
ʺWith those feet you’ll always hear him coming,ʺ said my brother blandly.