Free Calling On Fire (Book 1) by Stephanie Beavers Page A

assertive, but then, that was probably why Toman was doing the knocking. When no one answered, Toman knocked again, even louder. Finally, the animator pounded on the door and yelled into the house.
    "Hey! We hear you have a dragon problem!"
    Still nothing.
    "I really hope they're not going to make us drag them out of there," Toman muttered. Esset eyed him; they wouldn't really do that. Probably.
    Toman raised his fist to pound on the door again.
    "Hey—"
    The door opened. Toman froze, fist in the air. He slowly lowered it. The man in the doorway was short with a frizzled grey mustache and a sagging belly. His clothes and everything on and around him were grey, but his skin was still the proper color.
    "Good noon, m'lords," the man said.
    "Good noon, but we're no lords," Esset said, taking the lead now. "I'm Summoner Esset, and this is Animator Toman. We heard you're having some trouble, and we've come to help."
    "Beg pardon, m'lords, but only the dark lords have magic in these parts, and our Lord wouldn't take kindly to us talking to you," the man said with a bow. He was sweating profusely. Toman and Esset exchanged looks.
    "What's your name, sir?" Esset asked.
    "Kerby Carver," the little man replied, his eyes shifting from side to side almost in time with his feet.
    "Be at ease, Mr. Carver," Esset said. "All we want is to hunt your monster. You don't have to say a word else to us, if you're worried we're spies. Just tell us what you know about the monster only. How could that hurt your lord? It could only help him, by us getting rid of your monster so your fine village can thrive again."
    "Er, I suppose just telling you about the dragon can't hurt, m'lords," the man said, but he still shifted nervously from foot to foot.
    "Good. Tell us what you know, and we'll leave and only come back if we kill the monster," Esset promised.
    "Okay then, m'lords." Despite Mr. Carver's agreement, he still glanced around before continuing. "Well, it's a dragon, sure enough. It's massive, especially its head and jaws, but its forelegs are tiny, not useful for much of anything. It doesn't need them though. It just swoops down and picks up whatever it wants in its jaws—livestock, people, deer, it makes no difference," the man said. Toman and Esset exchanged looks again. "Massive" was a fairly general term for describing size, but it had to be big to carry off livestock without a problem.
    "How big, sir?" Esset asked.
    "The size of my house, m'lord, easily! We've all seen it. We've lost three people and over a third our herds since it first came."
    "And you say dragon—can it breathe fire or anything?" Esset asked.
    "Not that I've seen, m'lord, despite all the old tales saying they can," the man admitted. Esset was certainly glad to hear that.
    "But you should know, m'lord, old farmer Erikson tried to shoot the beast and the arrow bounced right off him. Scales of steel, he has," Mr. Carver told him.
    "Thank you, that's very helpful," Esset said. "Do you know where the beast lairs?"
    "I don't, m'lord, but he always heads west, into Lord Koris's kingdom. And he always comes from the west, from behind the mountain. Like as not, he lairs somewhere over there, m'lord," Mr. Carver said.
    "Anything else you can think of that might help us, sir?" Esset asked. Mr. Carver thought for a moment, then shook his head.
    "Sorry, m'lord, that's everything I know. Likely all anyone knows," the short man replied. Esset looked over at Toman, who shook his head—he didn't have any further questions either.
    "Okay, we'd best be on our way then," Esset said. He turned to go, hesitated, and then stopped. "I don't suppose you can tell us why everything is grey here?" he asked.
    Mr. Carver looked surprised. "Why, everyone knows that, m'lord. 'Tis Lord Erizen's Greymaker."
    "Greymaker," Esset repeated.
    "Aye, it's—well, if you don't know, maybe I shouldn't be telling you, m'lord," Mr. Carver said, thinking better of an explanation.
    "Right, sorry," Esset said. "We'll