Falon nodded sagely. “Of course. My thoughts exactly. I’ll put my best man on it. You gentlemen go on home now, and stay off the mountain until you hear from us.”
Kale and Edrin moved silently out of the rough-hewn doorway, each of them ducking his head under its low beam. Falon turned to the corner of the room, where Ander, his most talented assistant, had been inking in the careful drawings of a drabfowl he had made a few days earlier. The bird had shown itself to be surprisingly colorful, despite its name.
“Ander…”
“Sir?” Ander answered, his eyes never leaving his work.
“Ander, have you been listening? Of course you have; you are a trained observer. So your training should have just told you that I have a very dangerous job here.”
“Yes, sir. It sounds to me like those hunters ran across a dragon, very possibly a white from the location of the attack site. Although I’ve never heard of one this far north, Mount Valcarsha is in the highest part of this range. It’s cloaked in perpetual winter even at the halfway point,” said the assistant scribe, mixing his inks to achieve the exact shade of the drabfowl’s autumn crest feather.
“Well done, Ander. My conjecture precisely. You will then appreciate that I must send the man most able to complete such a difficult observation. I have chosen you,” Falon replied.
Ander finally raised his head and faced the chief scribe. “Me, sir? But I just got back from the field! I still have to finish out these rough sketches. It’s Del’s turn to go out this time.”
“He won’t be back from the settlement for another week. And don’t worry about your unfinished work. I’ll take care of that for you. Anyway, there is a promotion in it this time for you, Ander. I thought you might like coming back from this one with the title of full scribe on your record. You are only one beast away from that, I see. Just one short,” Falon observed as he ran his finger down a blank sheet of vellum.
Ander blinked at the chief scribe in disbelief, his quill poised in midair. “Do you mean that, sir? It’s been so … long. I had almost given up hope.”
Falon grinned capaciously. “Of course I mean it. Yes, I know things have moved, um, somewhat slowly for you here, but this is your big chance. Who knows, someday you could even have my job-after I’ve been sent up to Palanthas, of course. But that’s not important right now. What is important is this white dragon. Oh, and Blot will go with you, for company and protection.”
Ander remained silent for a long moment, marveling. An ice dragon . . . his contribution to Astinus’s great book. It was the chance of a lifetime.
“I’ll do the outpost proud, sir.” Ander smiled, his face glowing as he put aside the sketch of the drabfowl and began to stuff his pack with waybread and cheese, chalks and drawing tablets.
Falon motioned to Blot, who was lurking behind the coal bin, having just showered himself with an even darker coating of dust than usual. “You will give me the regular report. .. and a bit more, this time, Blot. Include a final sentence, please. A summary. This is a special case.”
Falon winked. The dwarf’s dirty face split into a slow, broad smile.
“As you wish, sir. A final sentence.” He chortled.
*****
Mount Valcarsha lay an arduous two days’ journey from the outpost. Ander and Blot moved through the autumn-splashed countryside at a quick walk, meeting almost no one on the winding, uphill road. In fact, the only person they saw was a red-haired shepherdess who walked with them for a short time, showing them where to find fresh water and giving Ander a fairly complete visual description of the beast.
“Shiny. White. I couldn’t see the head when it flew over, but its tail was long and thin, curling and looping at the end as it took the air. I’ll tell you, sirs, that was the most frightened I’ve ever been in m’ life. And the thing has got a good six of m’ sheep in the last month!” she complained.