A Muddle of Magic. Alexandra Rushe

beautiful,” Raine said, slowly approaching the skittish steed.

      “Careful,” Mauric warned. “The dragon’s got him spooked.”

      As if in answer, the stallion stamped his hooves and rolled an eye at Flame. Flame fanned his wings and lashed his tail, and the stallion danced away.

      Stop that, Raine said. You’re frightening him.

      Morven said not to eat the horses. Morven did not say Flame could not frighten them.

      I’m trying to make friends, and you aren’t helping.

      Why would Morven wish to be friends with a stupid shorse?

      “I give up,” Raine said. “You’re impossible.” The horse snorted and tossed its head as she edged closer. “Not you, sweetheart,” she assured the shining creature. “I was talking to the dragon.”

      Sweetheart? Flame made a rude noise, which Raine ignored.

      She reached out and gently ran her hand down the animal’s velvety nose. “There’s a good fellow,” she murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”

      “Ah, I see you’ve met Lúthon,” Raven said, striding off the ship. The glowing steed nickered in recognition and trotted across the quay to greet him. “Yes, yes, old friend,” he said, stroking the horse. “I’m glad to see you, too.” He whistled sharply. “Boy, haul your rump down here. Now.”

      “Coming, Captain.” Chaz raced down the gangplank with Tarin, the cabin boy, close behind. “Raine, guess what?”

      “What?”

      Raine knew that Chaz had grown during their voyage but seeing the boys side by side came as a shock. Chaz was taller than Tarin by six inches or more, though Tarin was the elder by several years and had been the larger of the two at the start of the voyage. Chaz’s growth spurt was nothing short of remarkable.

      “Gurnst wants me to stay behind and help with the cargo, but the captain says I have to ask you first,” Chaz said. “Can I, Raine? Can I, please?”

      Raine hesitated. “I think it would be better if you came with me. Gurnst has work to do, and you might get underfoot.”

      “I won’t,” Chaz said, indignant. “Gurnst and I are friends. He wants me to stay.” He whirled about. “Here he is now. Tell her, Gurnst.”

      “Tell her what, boy?” Gurnst said, lumbering across the gangplank and onto the dock.

      “Raine thinks I’ll be in the way if I stay with you and Tarin,” Chaz said. “I told her that’s a load of squiddle.”

      Gurnst coughed. “Language, boy. Still, he has the right of it, milady. I’d take it as a favor if you’d let him stay behind and ride in the wagon with me. He reminds me of m’ son, when he was a nipper, though he’s a man full grown now and in the rowan’s guard.” There was pride in the sailor’s voice. “I’ll see that he comes to no harm and deliver him to the Citadel, right and tight.”

      “Well…” Raine said, wavering.

      “Please, Rainey?” Chaz begged. “Gurnst is going to let us take turns holding the reins.” He nudged Tarin. “Right, Tarin?”

      The cabin boy shot Raine a glance and blushed furiously. “R-right, milady.”

      Chaz turned back to Raine, his face shining with excitement. “It’ll be something like. I’ve never handled a team of horses before.”

      Gurnst added hastily, “The lad will be in no danger. I won’t let him take the reins until we reach the North Road, where there’s a flat straightaway. The draft horses the captain keeps in the stable could find their way to the Citadel in the dark.”

      “Please, Raine?” Chaz’s expression was pleading. “Gurnst has promised to buy us a plate of Fatty Finns when we’re done.”

      “Fatty what?” Raine said.

      “Fried pies,” Raven explained. “The Swan and Crown has excellent ones.”

      “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain,” Gurnst said, “but m’ sister and her husband own the Claw and Horn. She’s the cook, and her Fatty Finns are the best in the city, hands down.”

      “I shall make it a point to sample them, then,” Raven said.

      Chaz tugged Raine’s cloak. “I’ll save you a pastry, if you let me go,” he said with a hopeful expression. “Or, at least, I’ll try. Dodd says my mouth don’t know when to stop chewing.”

      Raine laughed. “Dodd is right. Very well, you may stay with Gurnst, but you must mind him and not cause trouble.”

      “I won’t, Rainey. I promise.”

      “All right, lads.” Gurnst ruffled Tarin’s hair. “Let’s go to see to the horses and wagons. We’ve cargo to get to market.” He pointed. “The stables are at the edge of town.”

      The boys shouted and raced ahead of Gurnst up the stone ramp.

      “Ready?” Raven asked Raine. “It’s time we were on our way, as well.”

      She nodded, and he tossed her on the back of the stallion. Springing up behind her, he grabbed the horse’s mane. Lúthon snorted and trotted lightly up the steep stone quay.

      “Wait,” Raine said, clutching Raven’s wrists. “What about Flame?”

      “Look behind us.”

      Raine turned in the saddle. The dragon waddled after them, his claws scrabbling on the slick cobblestones. Mauric and Goblin brought up the rear.

      You okay? Raine asked Flame.

      Flame does not like these slippery scales.

      It’s stone, not scales. Humans use it to make roads and buildings.

      Why?

      Stone is durable, and humans need shelter from the elements.

      Scales are better than skin, Flame said. Humans break easily, and they leak.

      Yes, we do. You’ll find it easier to walk once we’re outside the village.

      Flame’s respite came sooner than Raine expected. The main avenue near the shore was cobbled, but the rest of the village was unpaved. Though spring had reached Finlara, the air was still crisp and cold. Drifts of snow banked the cottages and sugarcoated the thatched housetops, and icy puddles formed in the streets. A sharp wind off the mountains whistled between the houses and Raine tucked the folds of Abbah’s woolen cloak around her, grateful for its warmth. Raven, dressed in black leather and a short cloak that he wore tossed back over his shoulders, did not seem to mind the cold. His strong arms encircled her, his powerful warrior’s body radiating heat.

      Lúthon cantered through the village, his slender hooves seeming to float over the ground. Raine took another peek at the dragon. Flame’s wings had not fully developed, and he was unaccustomed to walking any distance on his newly sprouted legs. He moved behind them in a series of rapid, flying hops that covered an astonishing amount of territory, his flailing wings stirring a stiff wind that blew the tops off water barrels and rattled shutters as he blustered past.

      The rowan’s men had cleared the streets near the wharf, but not everyone in the village had received the warning, and the ruckus created by the dragon quickly drew a crowd. Men in rough woolen tunics and muckers milled at the edges of the muddy street, and women and children huddled in doorways and peeked out windows, exclaiming in fright and astonishment at the dragon. A woman was hanging out her washing. She took one look at Flame and screamed. Dropping the clothes in her arms, she fled inside, banging the door behind her. A man standing outside a shabby pub saw the dragon clunking down the street and spewed his ale with a startled oath.

      “Goodness,” Raine said. “People are so silly.”

      “Aye,” Raven said. “You’d