The Firebrand Legacy by T.K. Kiser Page A

eye is like a rolling globe.”
    “But he murders,” Carine said.
    “That’s what I was counting on—until his gaze
fell on me.”
    “What do you mean?” Carine still shivered at
the idea of approaching a fire-breathing dragon. “He looked at
you?”
    Alviar nodded. “Dragons are wise
creatures.”
    “Just because they have magic doesn’t make
them wise,” Carine said, hanging onto the broom as if in
defense.
    “That’s true. It is not because they have
power that they are wise. And the power they have is not magic per
se, but the ability to pronounce the language of life. Manakor is a
deep language, not in tone but in content. Not even learned
scholars can pronounce it. One word contains all that will ever be
and all that has ever been.”
    “Why are you telling me this?” Carine asked.
It was far more information than she had planned for, and Alviar
tutored princes, not shoemakers.
    “Like you, I believed many falsities that led
me to fear and despair. Fortunately, that dragon looked at me, and
it changed everything.”
    “How?”
    “When his gaze fell on me I felt…my soul
stirred. I felt my destiny. Kavariel opened his mouth and breathed.
Fire spilled forth, and thank the flames, I caught only the edge of
the blast. And,” he hushed in reverence, “along with the fire came
a word unlike any other.”
    “What was it?”
    “It was my name. In Manakor, I supposed, but
the consonants and vowels had nothing to do with it. I often wish I
had remained standing there, to bask in the gift I had just
received, but terrified as I was, I fled, my face and hand still
burning.”
    He gestured to a burn on the back of his hand
that she hadn’t noticed. The skin of his right side was wrinkled,
as though there was too much skin for his fingers, all of it
cracked and folded. Carine couldn’t bear to look. Her sister had
suffered much worse in the same fire.
    “Before that moment, I had never known that
every drop of this universe is unified. Everything and everyone has
a name, a meaning, and a call. That included me. And that gave me
hope. It should give you hope too.”
    Alviar delighted in the memory, and as Carine
heard his story, something stirred within her too. But instead of
hope, it felt like fear—and then anger.
    “Not everyone is as lucky as you were,” she
said, though the observation came out softer and more personal than
she had planned.
    “Indeed,” he said, guessing that she had lost
someone. “Everyone dies, many tragically. Who can know why death
acts when? Our limited folk minds can understand but a drop of
water in this ocean.”
    “The world is simpler than you think, sir.”
On one hand was goodness and safety, on the other disaster and
magic.
    “I can see it in your eyes, young Shoemaker;
you think the world is crueler too.”
    Carine didn’t answer.
    “No wonder you’re running away from it.”

14 A Nice Melody
    It wasn’t long before Prince David skipped up
the stairs and interrupted her thoughts. His inch long hair poked
in every direction. He didn’t seem to look in a mirror much, not
that it would have done him any good. He was the least attractive
of his brothers, but his presence was the most comfortable. At
least, it had been before Giles and he had labeled her as a freak
like everyone else in Esten did. With any luck, he was coming up
here to speak to the captain. His dopey smile told her
otherwise.
    “Hey,” he said, staring her right in the eyes
so she couldn’t pretend not to see him.
    She bowed at the waist to break eye contact
and wished his message would be quick.
    He raised his hands in the surrender
position, folding his rich surcoat in soft lines. “I didn’t bring
anything enchanted—promise.” The prince slowed until he stood right
beside her at the banister, and then he folded his hands and looked
over the water. After a moment, he said, “Seen any dolphins? Alviar
said he’s seen a couple dolphins out here since we’ve been
traveling.”
    Carine