Dragonborn by Toby Forward Page A

fail.
    There was a place, the Palace of Boolat. It was many years since Starback had been there. It would be a good place to lead Khazib and the others. It would detain them without danger. He sped back to Flaxfield’s house and followed Khazib’s trail, with dragon sight and dragon wiles.
    Khazib had already passed the weaver’s house and was well on his way to catching up with Sam. Starback flew ahead, swooped down, and scattered the trail that Sam had left.
    He could feel Khazib’s magic probing the road, testing the route. It thrilled Starback and made him shiver with the strangeness of it. It was a scented, intricate magic, of shadows and colors. The dragon would have liked to stay some time within it, but there was a task to do.
    He threw a false scent, trailing in a gradual curve away from Canterstock. A sudden diversion would make the wizard suspicious. Starback led him around, away, and pointed him to Boolat.

Tim Masrani walked on one side of Sam
    and Smedge on the other.
    These were the pupils that Professor Frastfil had summoned to take care of Sam and to show him around.
    â€œBest to get you straight into lessons.” He smiled. “Throw you in at the deep end.”
    Sam was so relieved that he didn’t have to go out friendless from the building that he was glad to agree to anything.
    â€œWhose lesson are you in, boys?” Frosty asked.
    â€œDr. Duddle’s,” said Tim.
    â€œSplendid,” Frastfil jangled. “Couldn’t be better. Run along now, and look after, uh …”
    â€œCartouche,” said Sam, feeling a little foolish with a name that didn’t fit him.
    â€œWe’ll have to get you outfitted,” said Tim.
    â€œCan’t have you looking like that,” Smedge agreed.
    â€œAren’t we going to lessons?” Sam asked.
    â€œLater.”
    â€œI don’t want to get into trouble,” said Sam.
    â€œOld Frosty meant us to get you outfitted first. He just didn’t think of it. No good at all on practical things.”
    â€œWhat is he good at?” asked Sam.
    â€œSo,” said Tim. “First off, the uniform.”
    He ran shrieking with pleasure down the corridors, followed by Smedge, who tried to sound the same, but didn’t seem as comfortable with the noise as Tim was. Sam had to run as well to keep up, but he didn’t shriek at all, just in case.
    â€œCome on, Vengeabil,” Tim called. “Wakey, wakey! We need some clothes.”
    The storeroom was a long, low-ceilinged room that ran underneath the corridor on the ground floor. Lit by the same bouncing globes, though dim and weak down here, it was full of dark corners and suspicious nooks.
    â€œVengeabil!” Tim shouted. “We’ll help ourselves!” He prodded Sam. “Vengeabil is past it, really. Sleeping in a corner, I shouldn’t wonder. Should have retired ages ago. We’ll just have to help ourselves.”
    He jumped over the counter and started to look through a pile of pullovers with the Canterstock crest on them.
    â€œYou should wait for Vengeabil,” said Smedge.
    â€œGive me a hand,” called Tim.
    Sam watched the two boys. Smedge was a little shorter thanSam. He looked as though his uniform had been ironed on him. There was not a crease or a loose button, and everything fit him perfectly. He smiled a lot, but seemed to think about everything before he did it or before he spoke. Nothing came rushing out.
    â€œI think we’d better just stand here,” he advised Sam. “Frosty said I should keep an eye on you.”
    Tim Masrani, though clean and tidy enough, was more ragged around the edges. He looked as though he might just have had a fight, or have run away from a farm. His clothes looked lived in. Just now, as he was rummaging through the pile of jerkins, one of them wound itself around his head and turned into a bat, its wings covering his face. Tim grabbed it and tried to pull it off.