When he turned around again, the dragon had transformed once more into a human shape. “Come,” the dragon said, holding out his hand. “There is a place for you.”
They walked some distance; Camwyn had never been so far from a city and had no idea how far away things were. Around an arm of the nearest hill, the dragon led him along a path beside a creek, into a grove of trees, and finally to a low house built of stone. “Who lives here?” Camwyn asked.
“At this time, you do,” the dragon said. “You need to regain your strength. Here you have space and time to finish healing.”
“Alone?”
“Not … entirely. We will go inside.”
The small house seemed larger inside than it had looked outside. One large room with a table, a bench, several chairs. On the table, a cluster of dishes, pots, cooking tools … and a stack of papers and books. A fireplace at one end, and beside it a door into another, smaller room. In that room a narrow bed, and beneath it a pot.
“Sit here,” the dragon said. Camwyn sat down, glad to be off his aching legs. The dragon sat as well in his guise as man. “You will live here awhile, Camwyn, with no duties but to grow stronger and wiser. You will have food and water, and you will have instruction from those I send. For the first, eat well, drink deep of this water which is pure and healthful, and walk about daily until your legs bear you without effort. Will you do these things?”
“Yes,” Camwyn said. He felt dazed and uncertain, but his mind had grasped the use and names of table, bench, chair, bed, dishes, and pots.
“Good.” The dragon stood, but when Camwyn stirred to rise, he put out a hand. “Wait here. I will return shortly with someone who will help you.”
The room was cool and dim when the dragon left; Camwyn tried to order his thoughts, but they ran through his mind like … like sheep, he thought finally, with a vision of woolly backs flowing down a slope like water.
“Well, lad!”
A different voice. Camwyn jerked, having dozed off without realizing it. Before him stood an old man, one arm crooked, withered, the hand clenched into a nest of sticks, but with bright, unclouded eyes of green. “Sir,” he said out of a dry mouth.
“You’re my new neighbor,” the man said. “And hungry, I’ll wager.” He turned away and set something on the table with a thump. “I’ve bread, cheese, onions, sausages—enough for a start.” He looked back at Camwyn. “Been injured and sick, I hear. Need feeding up, the dragon said, and so you do. I’m Mathor—not a common name where you’re from, so dragon said. Never mind, it’s the name I came with. A fire, that’s what we need. A hot drink will do you good.”
Camwyn sat watching as the man bustled about, building a fire, fetching water in a pot, setting it to boil. From a leather pouch, the man took a handful of dried leaves and twigs and dropped them into the water as it heated. Camwyn’s nose remembered the smell as it steeped but not the name.
“Sib,” Mathor said, as if he knew Camwyn’s confusion. “Sib and a touch of something my gran knew.” He handed Camwyn a mug whose contents steamed.
Camwyn sipped; the flavor startled his tongue and seemed to clear his mind. “Sir,” he said. “Thank you.”
“There’s no sirring or lording between us,” Mathor said, but without heat. “You’re Camwyn, I’m told, and I’m Mathor.”
“Thank you … Mathor,” Camwyn said. The unspoken “sir” sat on the end of his tongue like a bur. He could assign it no meaning but custom.
“You finish that and I’ll have some food ready for you. Take a stroll outside if you like.”
He was outside with a mug in his hand before he knew it. Behind him the door closed, but he could hear Mathor humming to himself inside. He looked around. Under the trees, wildflowers sprinkled the ground; the sound of the creek gurgling and splashing soothed his ears. A bench—he did not remember that bench—sat beside the house. He did not sit but moved toward the water, drawn by the sound.
Stones had been piled to make a low dam; behind it was a pool just larger than a bathing tub. Camwyn walked upstream to the dam and looked at the pool. Where it was not edged by rock, a fringe of mint and flowers surrounded it. As he watched, something wet and glistening threw itself off the dam into the water … his mind groped and came up with frog.
When Mathor called him back to a room filled with the smells of delicious food, Camwyn sat across the table with the man and ate eagerly. Mathor had opened shutters Camwyn hadn’t noticed before, letting light and air into both rooms. He showed Camwyn where the jacks was.