The Phoenix Endangered by James Mallory

leaves into the pot, and settled down to wait for the water to boil. While neither of them really thought that the “tea” the Elves were so fond of tasted like anything much more than boiled grass, they’d both gotten fairly used to it in the last moonturn, and it was actually pretty drinkable if you added enough honey. Tiercel rummaged in the basket, setting the loaf aside for the moment and lifting out the wheel of cheese. They’d stopped two days ago in the village of Wintercrown—at least Elunyerin and Rilphanifel had said it was a village; it certainly didn’t look anything like any village Tiercel had ever seen—where they’d loaded up with supplies, and Ancaladar had enjoyed a hearty meal.
    Tiercel drew his dagger and cut off a large chunk of cheese, then replaced it in the basket and reached for the loaf of bread. They had dry provisions to last at least a fortnight, and perishables for several more days, though this was (he was pretty sure) the last of the bread.
    “You should be at the farm in a few more hours,” he said around a mouthful of bread and cheese. He and Ancaladar had already overflown the farmstead several times that morning; there was no reason to fear that the sight of Ancaladar would disturb the inhabitants, since in the Elven Lands, dragons were actually a fairly common sight. Unfortunately, that would change as soon as they crossed the Veil; when he’d come to Karahelanderialigor Tiercel’d hoped that the Elves would be able to tell him exactly what place he was looking for, but in fact, neither Elves nor dragons had been beyond the Veil since the Elves had withdrawn eastward from the Nine Cities centuries ago. And that meant that whatever was on the other side of the Veil wouldn’t be used to seeing dragons either.
    “Huh,” Harrier said without actual comment, pouring hot water from the kettle to the pot.
    “And that will leave you all the rest of the day to read!” Kareta said brightly. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what—”
    Without even looking up, Harrier reached into the basket, snagged an apple, and flung it at Kareta. The unicorn caught it neatly and crunched it with obvious enjoyment.
    “The two of you might as well just go on ahead,” Harrier said, as if Kareta hadn’t spoken—and as if he hadn’t just tried to brain her with an apple. “There’s no reason for you to fly around in circles for the rest of the day just because Nethiel and Dulion aren’t as fast over the road as Ancaladar is.”
    “Who is?” Ancaladar asked mildly.
    “I am,” Kareta said simply.
    The dragon lifted his head, and Tiercel could almost swear he looked affronted.
    “Easy enough to say,” Harrier said, cutting his own chunk from the wheel of cheese. He pared a piece off it and flipped it over his shoulder. Kareta caught it neatly. “It’s not as if we’re going to be holding races any time soon. Or as if they’d settle anything. So why bother?”
    “I’m faster,” Kareta said sulkily.
    “But go ahead, because it’s not as if we can get lost between here and there,” Harrier said, ostentatiously ignoring her. “And when you get there, be sure to ask them how far it is to the Border, and if there are any other settlements before we get there.”
    “Um,” Tiercel said.
    “‘It would be good to know, of your courtesy, were there anything you would care to say concerning what might lay between—whatever the name of the place is—and the border of the Elven Lands,’” Harrier rattled off around a mouthful of bread. The most difficult thing for both boys to master during their sojourn in Karahelanderialigor had been the maddeningly indirect forms of polite Elven speech, in which any form of direct question was considered the height of rudeness. Since Tiercel hadn’t really talked to all that many people during his stay, Harrier was much better at it than he was.
    “I shall remind you, Tiercel,” Ancaladar said.
    “It’s not that hard,” Harrier