Dragon Rider (Dragon Rider 1)

“Come on out!” said Sorrel. “Come out, whatever you are!”

For a moment all was quiet. Very quiet. Except for the noises of the big city drifting in from outside.

“Come on out!” spat Sorrel again. “Or do I have to come and fetch you?”

There was some more rustling, and then a human boy crawled out from among the crates. Sorrel retreated in alarm. When the boy rose to his feet he was a good deal taller than she was. He stared incredulously at the brownie girl. And then he saw the dragon.

Firedrake’s scales still shone like silver in spite of the canal water, and in this small space he seemed enormous. Neck bent, he was gazing down at the boy in astonishment.

The dragon had never seen a human being at close quarters before. From everything that Rat and Sorrel had told him, he had imagined them as looking different — very different.

“He doesn’t smell of humans at all!” Sorrel growled. She had recovered from her fright and was inspecting the boy suspiciously, although from a safe distance. “He stinks of mice,” she added. “That’s why I didn’t smell him. Yes, that’ll be it.”

The boy took no notice of her. He raised his hand — a bare hand with no fur growing on it — and pointed at Firedrake. “It’s a dragon!” he whispered. “A real, live dragon.”

He gave Firedrake an uncertain smile.

The dragon cautiously stretched out his long neck toward the boy and sniffed. Sorrel was right. He did smell of mouse droppings, but there was something else as well. A strange smell, the same smell that hung in the air outside — the smell of human beings.

“Of course it’s a dragon,” said Sorrel crossly. “And what are you?”

The boy turned to look at her in surprise. “Oh, wow!” he exclaimed. “You’re quite something, too! Are you an extraterrestrial?”

Sorrel proudly stroked her silky coat. “I’m a brownie. Can’t you see that?”

“A what?”

“A brownie!” repeated Sorrel impatiently. “Typical. You humans may be able to tell a cat from a dog, but that’s about all.”

“You look like a giant squirrel,” said the boy, grinning.

“Very funny!” spat Sorrel. “What are you doing here, anyway? A little titch like you isn’t usually out and about on his own.”

The grin vanished from the boy’s face as if Sorrel had wiped it away. “A thingummy-whatsit like you isn’t usually out and about here, either,” he pointed out. “If you must know, I live here.”

“Here?” Sorrel looked around, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, here.” The boy glared at her. “For now, anyway. But if you like,” he added, looking at the dragon, “if you like you can stay here for the time being.”

“Thank you,” said Firedrake. “That’s extremely kind of you. What’s your name?”

The boy awkwardly pushed his hair back from his forehead. “My name’s Ben. What about you?”

“This,” said the dragon, nuzzling Sorrel gently in the stomach, “is Sorrel. And I am Firedrake.”

“Firedrake. That’s a good name.” Ben put out his hand tentatively to stroke the dragon’s neck, as if he feared Firedrake would disappear the moment he was touched.

Casting the boy a suspicious glance, Sorrel went over to the hatch and looked out. “Time to go and look for that rat,” she said. “You — human — can you tell me where the dockland warehouses are?”

Ben nodded. “Less than ten minutes’ walk from here. But how are you going to get there without being captured or stuffed and put on display in a museum?”

“You can leave that to me,” growled Sorrel.

Firedrake put his head between the two of them, looking anxious. “You mean it’s dangerous for her?” he asked the boy.

Ben nodded. “Of course. Well, looking the way she does I bet she won’t get ten meters from here. The first little old lady to spot her will call the police.”

“Police?” asked Firedrake, baffled. “What kind of thing is police?”