There weren’t any. I fed the fire and wondered vaguely if Wil and Sim were worried about my sudden disappearance back at the University. What of Arwyl and Elxa Dal and Kilvin? Would they wonder what happened to me? I should have left a note....

I had no way to track the time, as the clouds still hid the stars. But I had fed the fire at least six or seven times when I saw Denna stiffen and come suddenly awake. She didn’t bolt upright, but her breathing stopped and I saw her dark eyes dart about wildly, as if she didn’t know where she was.

“Sorry,” I said, mostly to give her something familiar to focus on. “Did I wake you?”

She relaxed and sat up. “No, I ... no. Not at all. I’m done sleeping for a bit. You want a turn?” She rubbed at her eyes and peered at me over the fire. “Silly question. You look like hell.” She began to unwrap the blanket from around herself. “Here ...”

I waved it off. “Keep it. My cloak is good enough for me.” I put my hood up and lay down on the grass.

“What a gentleman,” she teased gently, wrapping it across her shoulders.

I pillowed my head with my arm, and while I was trying to think of a clever response, I fell asleep.

I woke from a dim dream of moving through a crowded street to the sight of Denna’s face above me, rosy and sharply shadowed by the firelight. All in all, a very pleasant way to wake up.

I was about to say something to that effect when she put her finger over my lips, distracting me in about eighteen different ways.

“Quiet,” she said softly. “Listen.”

I sat up.

“Do you hear it?” she asked after a moment.

I cocked my head. “Just the wind ...”

She shook her head and cut me off with a gesture. “There!”

I did hear it. At first I thought it was some disturbed rocks sliding down the hill, but no, this didn’t fade into the distance like that would. It sounded more like something being dragged up the side of the hill.

I got to my feet and looked around. While I’d slept the clouds had blown away, and now the moon lit the surrounding countryside in pale silver light. Our wide firepit was brim full of shimmering coals.

Just then, not far down the hillside, I heard ... to say I heard a branch breaking would mislead you. When a person moving through the woods breaks a branch, it makes a short, sharp snap. This is because any branch a man breaks accidentally is small and breaks quickly.

What I heard was no twig snapping. It was a long cracking sound. The sound a leg-thick branch makes when it’s torn from a tree: kreek-kerrrka-krraakkk.

Then, as I turned to look at Denna, I heard the other noise. How can I describe it?

When I was young my mother took me to see a menagerie in Senarin. It was the only time I had ever seen a lion, and the only time I had heard one roar. The other children in the crowd were frightened, but I laughed, delighted. The sound was so deep and low that I could feel it rumble in my chest. I loved the feeling and remember it to this day.

The sound I heard on the hill near Trebon was not a lion’s roar, but I felt it in my chest the same way It was a grunt, deeper than a lion’s roar. Closer to the sound of thunder in the distance.

Another branch broke, almost on the crest of the hill. I looked in that direction and saw a huge shape dimly lined by the firelight. I felt the ground shudder slightly under my feet. Denna turned to look at me, her eyes wide with panic.

I grabbed hold of her arm and ran toward the opposite side of the hill. Denna kept up with me at first, then planted her feet when she saw where I was headed. “Don’t be stupid,” she hissed. “We’ll break our necks if we run down that in the dark.” She cast around wildly, then looked up at the nearby greystones. “Get me up there and I’ll haul you up after.”

I laced my fingers together to make a step. She put her foot into it, and I heaved so hard I almost threw her into the air where she could catch the edge of the stone. I waited a brief moment until she swung her leg up, then I slung my travelsack over my shoulder, and scrambled up the side of the massive stone.

Rather I should say I scrambled at the side of the massive stone. It was worn smooth by ages of weather and didn’t have any handholds to speak of. I slid to the ground, my hands scrabbling ineffectually

I bolted to the other side of the arch, hopped up onto one of the lower stones, and made another leap.

I hit the rock hard, all along the front of my body, knocking the wind out of me and banging my knee. My hands gripped at the top of the arch, but I couldn’t find any purchase—

Denna caught me. If this were some heroic ballad, I would tell you how she clasped my hand firmly and pulled me to safety. But the truth is she got hold of my shirt with one hand while the other made a tight fist in my hair. She hauled hard and kept me from falling long enough for me to catch a grip and scramble to the top of the stone with her.

As we lay there, panting, we peered over the edge of the stone. Down on the hilltop, the dim shape was beginning to move into the circle of our firelight. Half hidden in the shadows, it looked larger than any animal I had ever seen, big as a loaded wagon. It was black, with a massive body like a bull’s. It came closer, moving in an odd shuffle, not like a bull or a horse. The wind fanned the fire, causing it to flare up, and I saw it carried its thick body close to the ground, legs out to the side, like a lizard.

When it came farther into the light the comparison was impossible to avoid. It was a huge lizard. Not long like a snake, it was squat like a cinder brick, its thick neck blending into a head shaped like a massive flat wedge.

It covered half the distance from the crest of the hill to our fire in a single, spastic burst of speed. It grunted again, deep like rumbling thunder, and I felt it in my chest. As it came closer it moved past the other greystone that lay in the grass, and I realized my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. It was bigger than the greystone. Six feet high at the shoulder, fifteen feet long. Big as a horsecart. Massive as a dozen bulls tied together.

It moved its thick head back and forth working its wide mouth open and closed, tasting the air.

Then there was a burst of blue flame. The sudden light of it was blinding, and I heard Denna cry out beside me. I ducked my head and felt a wash of heat roll over us.

Rubbing at my eyes, I looked down again and saw the thing move closer to the fire. It was black, scaled, massive. It grunted again like thunder, then bobbed its head and breathed another great gout of billowing blue fire.

It was a dragon.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

Interlude—Obedience

In the Waystone Inn, Kvothe paused expectantly. The moment stretched out until Chronicler looked up from his page.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to say something,” Kvothe said. “Something along the lines of, ‘That can’t be!’ or ‘There’s no such thing as dragons.

Chronicler wiped the nib of his pen clean, “It’s not really my place to comment on the story,” he said placidly. “If you say you saw a dragon ...” He shrugged.

Kvothe gave him a profoundly disappointed look. “This from the author of The Mating Habits of the Common Draccus? This from Devan Lochees, the great debunker?”

“This from Devan Lochees who agreed not to interrupt or change a single word of the story he is recording.” Chronicler lay his pen down and massaged his hand. “Because those were the only conditions under which he could get access to a story he very much desired.”

Kvothe gave him a level look. “Have you ever heard the expression white mutiny?”

“I have,” Chronicler said with a thin smile.

“I could say it, Reshi,” Bast said brightly. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”