Free Tales of the Dragon's Bard, Volume 1: Eventide by Tracy Hickman, Laura Hickman Page B

jealous of each other and fighting between them over mortals. We would sit at the top of Mount Dervin and find those legends in the clouds that passed so close overhead and talk of lands past the horizon and what it might be like for the people who lived there. We told each other secrets there and swore we would find our own adventures one day.”
    “I am impressed,” the Dragon’s Bard nodded. “And just how long ago was that?”
    Jarod turned away, looking back toward the bakery. “I was fourteen years when we last did that.”
    “Long ago, then?” Edvard coaxed.
    “Too long.”
    “Long, perhaps, but not too long,” Edvard said, slapping the boy on the back. “You are, indeed, on a quest, friend Jarod . . . and we have an infallible plan! You have obtained a token of your feelings for your beloved Caprice in the haberdashery styling of your local expert milliner. But the token alone is not enough; it must be presented in a memorable and dramatic fashion, filled with the words of your heart and the demonstration of your devotion.”
    “Oh, and just how am I supposed to do that?” Jarod snapped.
    “By remembering the plan!” Edvard replied heatedly, his frustrations mounting with the young man. “First, obtain a great gift—this you have already begun. Second, present your gift as an undeniable invitation to attend the Spring Revels with you as her escort. Third, accompany her to the Spring Revels with her magnificent gift on display for the entire town. And—finally—win her heart through your attentions! It’s classic romantic quest fundamentals!”
    Jarod looked pained. “I don’t know . . .”
    “Listen, how do you plan on presenting your gift?” Edvard asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    “How were you going to ask your amazing Caprice to go with you to the Spring Revels?” the Dragon’s Bard urged.
    “Well, I was going to just, you know, give her the hat and ask her.”
    “You were not!”
    “I wasn’t?”
    “Look,” Edvard said, his voice carrying above the hiss of the forge around them. “I’ll be Caprice.”
    Jarod squinted with one eye. “What do you mean?”
    “I am going to pretend to be Caprice, and you be you.”
    “I am me,” Jarod answered.
    “Of course you are you!” Edvard roared. “But I’m going to pretend to be Caprice. You pretend that I am Caprice and that you are going to present your amazing gift to me and ask me to accompany you to the Spring Revels.”
    “Oh!” Jarod nodded. “You mean, like practice?”
    “Yes!” Edvard said with infinite relief. “We are just practicing. Now, I’m pretending to be Caprice. You pretend that you are asking Caprice to the Spring Revels. You’ve got your treasure with you to present to her. Now, what do you say?”
    “You’re Caprice?” Jarod said with uncertainty.
    “Yes,” Edvard nodded.
    “And I’m asking you to the Spring Revels?”
    “Yes,” the Dragon’s Bard urged. “What do you say?”
    Jarod bit at his lip. For a moment he fidgeted with an imaginary hat in his hands and then thrust it out toward the Dragon’s Bard.
    “I got you this hat, Caprice . . . I don’t suppose you want to go to Spring Revels with me?”
    “NO!” Edvard bellowed.
    “You don’t?” Jarod blinked.
    “You don’t just shove a hat at a woman like that!” Edvard shouted. “You have to do it with style and grace! A treasure has to be discovered gradually . . .”
    “You need Treasure Box,” came a gruff voice behind the Bard.
    Both Jarod and Edvard turned in surprise.
    The ladies of Cobblestone Street all believed Beulandreus Dudgeon to be the ugliest dwarf in the world—although, in truth, none of those same ladies of Eventide had ever seen any other dwarf for comparison. He was barely four feet tall and seemed nearly as wide, with a great barrel chest and massive arms and legs. He kept his head shaved bald. Mordechai Charon believed it was because he was a smith and worked around open fires all day; none of