Free World's Oldest Living Dragon by Kate McMullan Page A

east.
    As they turned toward the Swamp River, Wiglaf spied a gray stone castle sitting atop a hill. They drew close and Wiglaf saw dozens of rocking chairs sitting on the lawn in front of the castle. Letters carved into the stone above the door read: YE OLDE HOME FOR AGED KNIGHTS.
    Erica led the way over the drawbridge. She yanked the bell pull. A minute later, the big wooden front door swung open. And there stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with wavy brown hair and eyes of cornflower blue. He wore a bright red tunic and red leather boots. A patch sewn onto his tunic spelled out his name: Donn.

    â€œBuenos días!” Donn said. “Good day!” He bowed. “Can I help you?”
    â€œWe’re from Dragon Slayers’ Academy,” Erica said. “Lady Lobelia sent us.”
    â€œAh, Señorita L.!” Donn clasped his hands to his chest. “No fairer damsel ever set slipper upon this earth.”
    â€œYuck,” muttered Angus. “I hope he isn’t Auntie Lobelia’s new boyfriend.”
    â€œWelcome to Ye Olde Home,” Donn said. “Come in!” He led them inside to a great hall. A fire burned in a big stone fireplace. Flags with faded coats of arms flew from poles above their heads.
    Everywhere Wiglaf looked, he saw aged knights. Some wore tunics and breeches. Some wore odd pieces of their old armor. But most sat around in their jammies.
    â€œTalk to the aged knights,” said Donn. “They will enjoy— Ay, caramba !” he cried suddenly. “Sir Dribblechin’s lost his teeth again. Pardon me.” He hurried off to help him.
    The DSA students walked over to two aged knights playing cards.
    â€œHave you any knaves?” said one aged knight to the other.
    â€œHa-ha—no!” cackled the second. “Go fishing for it!”
    The first aged knight drew a card from the pile.
    â€œâ€™Tis a knave!” he cried, showing his card. “I get another turn!”
    â€œThat’s no knave,” said the second aged knight. “That’s a jester.”
    â€œSame thing,” said the first.
    â€œâ€™Tis not!” cried the second.
    â€œâ€™Tis, too!” cried the first.
    The aged knights kept arguing. They didn’t seem to notice the DSA students.
    â€œLook,” whispered Janice, pointing to a group of knights sitting around a large table. “They’re playing dragon bingo.”
    The DSA students headed for the round table. Each knight had a parchment card in front of him. The cards were dotted with small flat stones. Letters at the top of the cards spelled out: D-R-A-G-O-N.
    Wiglaf noticed that one of the knights wasn’t nearly as aged as the others. He had plump cheeks, dark shoulder-length hair, and a potbelly. He wore faded blue pj’s. Wiglaf watched as the plump knight picked up a silvery napkin ring that lay on the table and gazed into it as if it were a mirror. He plucked a gray hair from his head. Then he smiled at his reflection.
    Wiglaf thought he had seen this knight somewhere before. But where?
    â€œBueno!” said Donn, coming over to the big round table. “Where were we?” He picked a tile from a box and called, “ Numero G-32.”
    All the aged knights who had G-32 on their cards covered it with a stone.
    Wiglaf nudged Erica. “Look at the chubby knight in the blue jammies,” he whispered. “Does he look familiar?”
    â€œWhere?” said Erica, looking around the room.
    Donn reached into the box and took another tile.
    â€œ Numero N-5,” he called. “N-5.”
    A short, bald knight clutching a cane in one hand called out, “Dragon!”
    â€œThat’s the only way you’ll ever get a dragon again, Roger,” cried a skinny, hunched-over knight with poofs of curly white hair. “On a game card!”
    All the knights at the bingo table cracked up.
    â€œStuff a sock in it, Poodleduff!” cried Sir Roger, waving his