for later. The bacon fat was tasty and he wouldn’t waste it.
“That girl,” he said.
Flaxfold carried on tidying up.
“The dead one. The one who looked like Tamrin,” he continued.
“Yes?”
“It started me thinking.”
Flaxfold looked through the window. The roffle was halfway down the small decline that led from the house to the river. He couldn’t hear them.
“What about it?”
“You remember when I met Tamrin last year at the college? Well, she seemed to know me. She knew I was going to be there. She even knew my name.”
“Perhaps someone told her you were on the way? Perhaps that roffle did?”
Sam shook his head.
“It was more than that. And I’ve thought about her a lot since. I dream about her sometimes.”
Flaxfold kept one eye on the roffle. He was nearer the river now.
“And when I saw the girl, dead, and thought it was Tamrin, I was frightened. Really frightened.”
“What do you want to do about it?” she asked.
“I want to see her again. I don’t know why. I want to talk to her. Ask her what she knew about me. How she seemed to know me.”
He finished drying the plate and his hands, folded the towel and hung it on the rail of the range to dry.
“You’d better have a word with the roffle, then,” said Flaxfold. “That’s why he’s here.”
The roffle sat on his barrel-pack by the side of the river. He had a rod and line and was casting in.
“Caught anything?” asked Sam.
“I think so,” said Megatorine.
Sam couldn’t see any fish on the grass.
“Where are they?”
The roffle pulled the hook from the water, flicked the rod and sent it back with a small splash. It landed near the opposite bank, under an overhanging tree, the water freckled with light and shade.
“Where does a bumblebee go for the best shoes?”
“Can we talk properly, please?” said Sam. “I know you can.”
Megatorine winked.
“Can a memmont paint a parsnip?”
“What have you come here for?” asked Sam.
“That was a good breakfast. A roffle would go a long way to eat like that.”
It wasn’t an answer, but at least it wasn’t a riddle. Sam was making progress.
“Catch me a trout, wizard,” said the roffle.
“No. That’s not what magic’s for.”
He sighed, reeled in his line, wrapped it around the rod and hopped on to the grass. He opened the pack and dropped the fishing gear in, so swiftly that even though Sam tried to look he didn’t see what else was in there.
“Ha!” said the roffle. “Caught you. Wouldn’t you like to see? I want a trout.”
He hopped back on and sat with his legs swinging.
Sam raised his head and looked up to the sky, morning-pale with slow clouds. He waited. Without warning, a shape crashed through the trees, sending leaves and twigs spinning. It plunged into the water, through and out in a shower of shining drops. It rose, swung round and dived again, coming to rest on the bank in front of them. Sam grinned.
Starback held a fish tenderly in his jaws. It flapped and twisted.
Megatorine jumped off the barrel and clapped his hands. Starback laid the fish at his feet. The roffle lifted it up, hands clutching at the wriggling, slippery trout. He tossed it back into the river and watched it speed away.
“That wasn’t magic,” said Sam. “It’s what dragons do.”
The roffle hoisted his barrel on to his back and walked alongside the riverbank.
“You’ve come to tell me about Tamrin,” said Sam.
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I have, then.”
He kicked at reeds, scattering their feathery tops into the breeze.
“What are you going to tell me?”
Sam gritted his teeth as he asked the question. Roffles were so difficult. They were so used to hiding information about the Deep World that they found it hard to tell you anything.
“She’s left the college.”
“Where’s she gone?”
“Couple of days ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, you know roffles. We pop up here and there. We notice things. We see what’s
“That girl,” he said.
Flaxfold carried on tidying up.
“The dead one. The one who looked like Tamrin,” he continued.
“Yes?”
“It started me thinking.”
Flaxfold looked through the window. The roffle was halfway down the small decline that led from the house to the river. He couldn’t hear them.
“What about it?”
“You remember when I met Tamrin last year at the college? Well, she seemed to know me. She knew I was going to be there. She even knew my name.”
“Perhaps someone told her you were on the way? Perhaps that roffle did?”
Sam shook his head.
“It was more than that. And I’ve thought about her a lot since. I dream about her sometimes.”
Flaxfold kept one eye on the roffle. He was nearer the river now.
“And when I saw the girl, dead, and thought it was Tamrin, I was frightened. Really frightened.”
“What do you want to do about it?” she asked.
“I want to see her again. I don’t know why. I want to talk to her. Ask her what she knew about me. How she seemed to know me.”
He finished drying the plate and his hands, folded the towel and hung it on the rail of the range to dry.
“You’d better have a word with the roffle, then,” said Flaxfold. “That’s why he’s here.”
The roffle sat on his barrel-pack by the side of the river. He had a rod and line and was casting in.
“Caught anything?” asked Sam.
“I think so,” said Megatorine.
Sam couldn’t see any fish on the grass.
“Where are they?”
The roffle pulled the hook from the water, flicked the rod and sent it back with a small splash. It landed near the opposite bank, under an overhanging tree, the water freckled with light and shade.
“Where does a bumblebee go for the best shoes?”
“Can we talk properly, please?” said Sam. “I know you can.”
Megatorine winked.
“Can a memmont paint a parsnip?”
“What have you come here for?” asked Sam.
“That was a good breakfast. A roffle would go a long way to eat like that.”
It wasn’t an answer, but at least it wasn’t a riddle. Sam was making progress.
“Catch me a trout, wizard,” said the roffle.
“No. That’s not what magic’s for.”
He sighed, reeled in his line, wrapped it around the rod and hopped on to the grass. He opened the pack and dropped the fishing gear in, so swiftly that even though Sam tried to look he didn’t see what else was in there.
“Ha!” said the roffle. “Caught you. Wouldn’t you like to see? I want a trout.”
He hopped back on and sat with his legs swinging.
Sam raised his head and looked up to the sky, morning-pale with slow clouds. He waited. Without warning, a shape crashed through the trees, sending leaves and twigs spinning. It plunged into the water, through and out in a shower of shining drops. It rose, swung round and dived again, coming to rest on the bank in front of them. Sam grinned.
Starback held a fish tenderly in his jaws. It flapped and twisted.
Megatorine jumped off the barrel and clapped his hands. Starback laid the fish at his feet. The roffle lifted it up, hands clutching at the wriggling, slippery trout. He tossed it back into the river and watched it speed away.
“That wasn’t magic,” said Sam. “It’s what dragons do.”
The roffle hoisted his barrel on to his back and walked alongside the riverbank.
“You’ve come to tell me about Tamrin,” said Sam.
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I have, then.”
He kicked at reeds, scattering their feathery tops into the breeze.
“What are you going to tell me?”
Sam gritted his teeth as he asked the question. Roffles were so difficult. They were so used to hiding information about the Deep World that they found it hard to tell you anything.
“She’s left the college.”
“Where’s she gone?”
“Couple of days ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, you know roffles. We pop up here and there. We notice things. We see what’s
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