Page 113 of Time's Fool

And at the first sign that he was trying to pry it off, it made a terrified squeaking noise, which would have been bad enough as it was shrill as a trumpet. But the tale end of it was drowned out by an answering call that was definitely not a trumpet, and was so loud that it shook the street. Kit had started back toward the alehouse, fighting with his scaley burden, but at that he looked up—

Just in time to see the entire front of the place disappear in a wash of black soot.

It wasn’t even ash that floated away on the wind; there wasn’t enough substance left for that. Even soot wasn’t really correct. More like a drift of black fog, that dispersed into the smothering blanket shrouding the street. Whilst the massive plume of red-gold flame responsible shot across the street and set another house alight.

Kit would have been incinerated along with it, but he was still off to one side. He’d emerged from the little alley half buried in a carpet of green scales, which he was still trying to pry off. But it was just possible that that looked like he was doing something else.

Because the monster of a creature now peering out of the darkness of the ruined alehouse focused unerringly on him.

Kit went as still as a statue.

For an instant, the two of them just stared at each other, one with his filthy human hands probably looking like they were hurting the still mewling hatchling, and the other, whose splendor and ferocity Kit did not have words for.

The scales on her face ruffled in a cascade of emerald, going from as smooth as polished armor one moment to as razor edged as a hundred swords the next. At the same time, her mouth stretched wide, showing off a maw of glistening teeth that would have looked like something out of a nightmare, only his brain had never been that inventive. Or that mad.

And then the mere breath coming out of her nostrils set a passing mage alight.

The man yelped, looked up, then stood there like an imbecile, as Kit himself was doing. The mage was still lost in the fog, so the giant dragon head with the orange, slitted eyes and terrifying maw of teeth must have appeared out of nowhere. And it looked like his training stopped just short.

There was a chance he would have stayed there until he roasted if his coat hadn’t come to the rescue and extinguished the fire. Not that it would matter in a moment, as it wouldn’t for Kit if he didn’t do something, right now. Although for the life of him, he couldn’t think what that might be.

Then the babe in his arms swiveled its head, and saw its mother through the fog. And sent up a screech ten times louder than before, one that echoed down the street and shuddered through Kit’s very bones. And caused him to leap, baby and all, just as the mother dragon tore out of the alehouse and sent planks of singed wood flying.

That would have been more of a problem, except that he had a new living suit of armor that they merely pinged off of. And because he’d just landed on something. Something fast.

“Kit?” Gillian gasped, grabbing hold of him as they tore down the street, and then had to pull up abruptly on the staff she was riding to void crashing into a building.

He had been the one to do that, having leapt in front of her. He’d had no choice, as the armful of scales currently attached to him like a burr wouldn’t have fit anywhere else. And thankfully, it was her staff, and not a mere broom, because they sorely needed the extra power.

For the mother dragon had just launched herself into the sky, with a bellow that shook the air.

“What did you do?” Gillian demanded, beating on his shoulder. “What did you do?”

“Why do you assume it was me?”

“It’s always you!”

Fair point.

A portal opened up in the middle of the air, a huge thing that Kit made straight for, as there was no other choice. Rilda must have triggered it, as she was riding a broom in front of them, wand out and pointed forward, but with her shocked face staring behind them at the beautiful death giving chase. And then at the two of them, with fury on her features.

“No!” She yelled. “Go back!”

But that wasn’t possible, something that Kit would have thought was blatantly obvious. But he didn’t have time to debate it, having to race a furious mother dragon to the only escape route out of here. And he made it, mainly because Gillian whispered something that caused the staff they were riding to leap ahead, just as a burst of flame tore through the space behind them.

It never touched him. Yet it was so hot that it felt like he might suddenly combust, even from a near miss. But smoking hair or not, he felt a huge grin split his face, because the next moment, they were through.

They’d made it!

They’d actually made it!

There was only one problem: the dragon had, too.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Gillian threw a spell behind them, but it had no effect. Kit looked around, desperately searching for a way out of this, but all he saw was Rilda up ahead, racing across some darkened canals, her low-to-the-broom stance mirrored in the moon-silvered ribbon beneath her. Amsterdam, he thought, about the time that the water they were flying over went up in a great wash of steam.

It had been hit with a blast of dragon fire that was swiftly followed by several more, causing him to sling the staff back and forth across the narrow waterway, attempting to make them into a more difficult target. He must have succeeded, since several boats went up in flames instead of them. Only “went up” wasn’t the right phrase.

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