The Riverwoman’s Dragon

‘That was my intention. But I fear they are not the last, and they’ll be adults next time.’

‘Do not worry about us. We will manage. You have a city to protect.’

‘And if someone comes showering curses on you?’

‘I have dealt with Agnes Baker’s venom for years, my love, and it has not felled me. Even so, Jasper will stay at the counter and I will assist from the workshop.’

‘You promise?’

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. ‘Did I not just say that was the plan?’

Her level gaze eased his worry. ‘I must be off to Magda’s, then.’

‘Yes.’

As Owen made his way through the cluster of shacks stretching from the abbey gate to the bank near Magda’s rock, smoke from cook fires swirled and danced in the morning mist forcing him to move his one good eye up, down, and about every few steps. Folk milled about him and Crispin, eager to talk about the incident on Magda’s rock the previous evening. The accounts echoed Einar’s description, though imbued with more wonder at the dragon’s role – for most believed it had eaten the fire and so protected Magda’s home. And though they counted it a blessing that their healer escaped without loss they worried for their own settlement. What if the flaming arrow had landed in their midst? They showered blessings on Owen, thanking him for keeping danger at bay, and, despite being gaunt with hunger, generously offering him food and drink, which he declined, begging haste.

Reaching the bank he glanced back for his companion and saw Crispin leaning on his cane in the midst of a gaggle of small children taking turns touching the stump of his arm, some with trepidation, others with giggles. Catching his eye, Owen motioned that he was ready to cross. While he waited for Crispin to join him Owen explained to the lad on watch at the boat that he preferred rowing himself and his friend. When he sweetened the news with a penny, disappointment turned to delight.

‘You drive a hard bargain,’ said Crispin, joining them.

The lad grinned and bobbed his head. ‘I’ll watch for your return. Make sure the bank is clear.’

Magda stood in the doorway cradling the kitten as they climbed out of the coracle. ‘Thou hast come to see the fiery dragon, Bird-eye?’

‘I would enjoy that, but I see that he is as woodenly inclined as ever.’

With a barking laugh she stepped aside to welcome them into the house.

‘I will just walk round, check for damage, before I join you. Go on, Crispin.’

‘You should have seen the captain disciplining a pair of street rats this morning …’ Crispin was saying as he stepped into Magda’s house.

Fetching a ladder, Owen climbed high enough to examine the roof facing the north bank. He saw no sign of fire. But on the south side he found the remains of an arrow, mostly the metal head – barbed, with a long shaft, for hunting small game – lodged in a scorched area of a wooden patch he had added a year earlier to cover a worm-eaten spot in the overturned ship. He removed it and searched the ground for remnants of more, finding the blackened remains of another directly beneath where the dragon’s long neck was exposed to the south bank. As with the first, it stank of lard, oil, and burnt wood, but the head on this one was badly bent. As he moved the ladder to one side of the creature he apologized for the intrusion. Climbing up, he focused his attention on the carved dragon rather than the height, his half-blindness making him a poor judge of such things, and ran a hand along the wood. Marvelously smooth, and hardly weathered. Peering closer with his one good eye, he detected a scorched patch, but no indentation such as he would have expected. It was as if the arrow had simply bounced off. You are a wondrous being, he thought to the dragon.

As he stepped inside with his findings Crispin reported no sign of damage within.

‘Yet at least two burning arrows managed to strike up above.’ Owen held out the remains to Magda and Crispin, describing the damage to the patch and what might be a scorch mark on the dragon. ‘I would expect something around that patch to have caught fire, but I found nothing. Your dragon has but a slight discoloration, as if the arrow bounced off. As you see from this head, the arrow suffered the worst of it.’ He cocked his head, gazing on Magda.

Ignoring the question in his eye, she asked, ‘Did Einar bring thee news of the attack?’

Surprised by the question, Owen hesitated, and it was Crispin who responded.

‘He did. He fears whoever it was might try again.’

‘Magda’s lads are watching. They are collecting river water to have at the ready should the next arrow land in their midst.’

‘But there is more,’ said Crispin, telling her about the sermons the previous day.

‘Magda has heard it all before. The crows are consumed by the fear of things against which they are powerless, so they beat their chests and spout angry words. Bird-eye and the bailiffs will be busy keeping the peace within the walls. Magda thanks thee for thy concern, thine as well, Bird-eye, but there is no need. Should Magda discover the archer, thou shalt hear of it.’

Owen knew better than to press further. ‘We shall do likewise.’