chapter 19

A Plan

Olive studied her son. “Twig,” she said. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning. Where did Char come from? Where did you find him? Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

Beau nodded gravely. “Yes, Twig. I think you need to tell us everything. From the beginning.”

Twig sat on the floor, relieved. It felt good to finally tell about all the events of the past few weeks . . . of nearly drowning in the giant river, of discovering the beautiful golden sphere that turned out to be Char’s egg, and of keeping Char a secret.

“But why keep him hidden away?” Olive asked. “You can see how that turned out to be a bad idea. I might have been able to help you.”

“I was afraid they’d take him away,” Twig answered quietly. “And . . . he was my friend.”

“Twig, you were wrong to use Char as a way to get ahead in class,” Olive replied. “I agree, having him in the Burrow of Confinement doesn’t seem fair, but right now we have to think about you. There could be serious consequences . . . for you, me, Lily . . . but definitely you.”

“I’m going to go before the rest of the Council and ask for leniency,” Beau said. “But Burdock has vengeance on his mind. I can only try my best to persuade them to let you stay.” He looked straight at Twig. “It’s doubtful that you’ll ever be part of the Naming Ceremony.”

Twig nodded. He did realize that his chances of becoming Twig Metal Crafter were now next to zero. At best, he would be a Permanent Apprentice, or possibly Assistant. More likely was Errand Runner.

“It’s so unfair,” he said, all at once exasperated and frustrated and exhausted. “So what if I can’t be a Master Metal Crafter? Maybe I just wasn’t cut out to be that. Maybe I am cut out for something else. I just don’t know what . . . not yet.”

Beau picked up some of the debris on the floor. “Could you be an Errand Runner and be happy?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I feel like one already,” Twig replied. “I think I’ve felt that way for as long as I can remember . . . always worrying about what everyone on the Hill thinks of me, how they think I’m a failure, or don’t fit in. And always, always comparing me to my father. Doesn’t anyone like me for being just . . . me?”

Olive smiled. She smoothed out Twig’s furry topknot, gently brushed some bits of ash out of his whiskers. “You’re so much like your father in so many ways,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Your perseverance,” she replied. “Your devotion. Your gentle spirit. Those are all great, great qualities. So much more important than craftsmanship. At the end of the day, what really matters is the love others have for you. Great skill at something is a wonderful thing, don’t get me wrong, but there is no comparing it to being a great friend. I think you’re being just that. Your devotion and kindness to Char, and being a good friend to Lily . . . those are things that determine greatness. Those are things that come from you just being . . . you.”

Twig looked at his mother. “I guess I should be worried about my possible expulsion, about never being Master anything, but right now all I can think about is poor Char!”

Olive studied her son. There was maturity in his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. “The Committee is a powerful group,” she said. “But somehow I think you’ll be fine. Find your heart. You’ll do the right thing.”

Twig smiled, then thought for a moment. “I’ve got to go to Lily’s,” he said. “I won’t be long.” And with a swoosh of his tail, he was gone.

LILY WAS AT HER DEN, SITTING WITH HER PARENTS, WHEN Twig rapped on her door.

“Excuse me,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry . . . but Lily, can I see you for a minute?”

Lily’s father looked at Twig a little sadly. “Twig,” he said. “Lily has been telling us about what happened, this incredible story about a dragon, practically killing Master Burdock, setting fire to . . . well, I’m sure it was all an accident, but to tell you the truth, we’d rather not have Lily involved in this. She’s guilty by association, you might say. I’d prefer if Lily didn’t see you, at least until this whole thing blows over.”

“What?” Twig exclaimed. He looked at Lily, who sat, miserable, at the table, as though she had just been fed skunk cabbage.

Lily returned his glance and then spoke. “Dad, Mom, could I just talk to Twig for one minute? I promise I’ll be right back.”

Her father nodded sternly. “Just for a minute,” he relented. “I’m sure Twig will be wanting to get back home. Am I right, Twig?” He looked at Twig suggestively.

Twig nodded. Then he and Lily slipped outside.

“I can’t believe this,” Twig said.

“Poor Char,” Lily whispered. “The thought of him in the Burrow of Confinement . . . we’ve got to get him out.”

Twig stared at Lily. “Get him out? Like, break him out?”

“If we don’t, who will? And if no one does, what will happen to him?” she replied emphatically.

“You’re right, Lily. It wasn’t right for me to keep him here. It’s up to us. We’ve got to get Char back home. He’ll be like a slave if he stays here.”

“Back home? Back home where? Where’s home?”

“Well, I don’t know, exactly. But it must be somewhere near where I found his egg. I can get us that far at least.” He looked questioningly at her. “Lily, would you come? All the way to the big river?”

Lily’s eyes flashed with anticipation. “Of course I will! Look, I’m in this, too. And Char . . . Char is like family now. We can’t let him down.”

“What will you tell your parents?”

“They’ll be okay . . . the important thing now is Char.”

Twig nodded. “Meet me at the prison as soon as you can,” he whispered. “And bring some supplies . . . you know, food . . . whatever you can bring.”

Just then Lily’s father poked his whiskers out the burrow door. “What are you two up to?” he asked. “Lily, time to come inside.”

“Just one more second, Dad,” Lily answered.

“No, now,” her father said.

“Okay.” Lily glanced knowingly at Twig and flicked her tail.