Free A Tale of Two Castles by Gail Carson Levine

gatehouse door, the guards raised the drawbridge without seeing who he was. His knocks were”—I stopped myself—“may have been a code.”
    IT scratched around ITs ear hole and looked unconcerned.
    â€œWhat if there’s a plot against the king?”
    The noon bells pealed. Testily IT blamed me for the lateness of the hour.
    What if IT was part of the plot?
    We pushed cheese and bread onto skewers in silence. After a few minutes, I called up my courage and asked if I might write and post my letter home.
    IT put down ITs skewer and waddled to the trapdoor. “Follow me, Lodie.” IT pulled the door open.
    I didn’t move. Did IT plan to kill me before I could write to Mother and Father?

Chapter Eleven
    F rom halfway in, IT swiveled ITs neck and grinned back at me before disappearing down the stairs.
    I stood at the top and saw a light spark on far below. The glow brightened. IT was lighting torches.
    â€œCome!”
    The stairs were stone blocks wedged into the earth. Follow IT or leave ITs service.
    IT could have murdered me last night. I stepped cautiously and continued downward into a chamber almost as high and big as the one above, empty but for three large baskets beneath a table and four stacks of books on top, a fortune in books. I had never seen so many gathered together.
    IT stood on the far side of the table. I approached, curious about the books but most eager to see inside the baskets.
    They brimmed with coins, mostly tins but also coppers, several iron bars, and a sprinkling of silvers. I had never seen a silver before. The coin turned out to be smaller than a copper, much smaller than a tin, no bigger than one of my teeth, such a little thing to be worth a year of an apprentice’s labor.
    I wondered if the baskets held coins to the bottom or were only a layer hiding something else underneath.
    â€œIn a century of industry and thrift, a dragon can amass wealth.” IT pulled out the baskets and thrust a claw into one after another, churning up the contents. Coins spilled onto the floor. “No bones of bygone assistants.”
    I blushed.
    IT sat back and rested a claw on a stack of books. ITs smoke turned gray; ITs eyes paled. In a dire and doleful voice, IT said, “I cannot read.”
    I didn’t know how to soften ITs sorrow. I ventured, “Few people can.”
    IT snapped, “Is that supposed to comfort me?”
    I tried again. “Your vocabulary is big.”
    â€œAnd varied and excellent. I astound my hearers with the erudition of my speech.” IT opened the top book to the middle and passed a claw across the page. “But I cannot decipher the merest word.” IT took the book.
    I followed ITs tail back up to the lair, where IT set the book on the bench by the fireplace.
    â€œNothing read, nothing learned. We will not starve if we have a holiday. Read to me, Lodie.”
    IT had said I could write to my family, but I didn’t want to remind IT. I lifted the book onto my lap. Lambs and calves, it was heavy, both thick and wide, covered in bumpy orange-brown leather that reminded me of ITs scales.
    IT stretched out with ITs long head at my feet. ITs smoke rose in spirals. I wondered what spiraling smoke meant.
    â€œBegin.”
    I opened to the first page. “Masteress Meenore, this is a book about vegetable gardening.”
    â€œMmm. Proceed.”
    I thumbed through. Each chapter described planting, tending, and harvesting a different vegetable. On the first page an enormous A in gold lettering was followed by corn squash in smaller black letters. In the corner of the page, with a border of gold dots, was a drawing in green and black ink of an acorn squash.
    â€œIs the gold real?”
    â€œRead.”
    I began. ITs eyes never left my face. If my mouth hadn’t been moving, I would soon have been asleep. IT didn’t object when I practiced my Two Castles accent, but IT wouldn’t let me mansion a cabbage into