Morningstar

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You know me then? I thought so. It is rare for travelers to journey to the high lands at the start of winter. What are you — a scholar, an historian, both? I know you are no magicker, and you appear to be weaponless. Ah, a storyteller! Well, there is honor in that.

I have been a storyteller for sixty-eight years. Aye, and a magicker of some talent. Not great talent, mind you. But I could work the Dragon’s Egg. Not many could do that right. Have you seen it? Well, perhaps it is not as popular as once it was. But I could make the dragon break clear of the egg, without the shell turning to dust. First the head would come clear, then one tiny, beautiful wing. At last he would ease himself from the shell, and then devour it with tongues of fire. It required great concentration, but I could never get the scales right; they would shimmer and fade.

I cannot do it now, of course. The power is almost gone from me.

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