Icefire by Chris D'Lacey Page B

it.”
    “She …?” Liz faltered and lowered her head. “I thought I felt something in her aura. But it’s been so long. I wasn’t sure —”
    “Then let me remind you,” Aunty Gwyneth cut in. Slowly she opened her hands. In the cup of her palms was the bronze-colored egg that Zanna had jealously protected in the den. David eased his position to get a better look, all the while keeping a tight hold of Bonnington. The egg appeared to be gently glowing, but its shell, or something just below the shell, was in constant movement, like clouds circling the surface of a planet.
    “The change has begun,” Aunty Gwyneth said. “In four days’ time the egg will be kindled. You must be prepared for the transfer of auma.”
    Liz shook her head. “This can’t be possible. I wasn’t trying for a child. I —”
    “Trying is meaningless,” Aunty Gwyneth snapped. “You know as well as I do the child does the choosing, not the parent.” She lowered the egg into Liz’s hands. “You should count my coming as providence, my dear. Gretel has reported a high proliferation of egglike sculptures in your den. This would indicate broodiness, would it not?”
    Liz looked away, troubled. “But this is so sudden. What am I going to say to Lucy?”
    “You will tell her the truth. The girl will be charmed.”
    “And David? Don’t tell me to send him away. Lucy adores him. He’s like one of the family. I can’t just throw him out.”
    Aunty Gwyneth stood back, drumming her fingers. “The boy does present slightly more of a problem. But I will find a way to deal with him. Look into the egg, now, tell me what you see.”
    Liz breathed deeply and held it to the light. “Oh, Gawain …” she gasped.
    In the hall, David’s eye almost leaped from its socket. In the center of the egg, where one would expect the yolk to be, was a small dark form.
    “A boy,” Liz breathed.
    “The first in nine hundred years,” said Aunty Gwyneth.
    Liz sighed in wonder and held the egg close. “A boy,” she whispered, and shed a light tear.
    Aunty Gwyneth caught it at once and smeared it over the surface of the egg. A ray of soft purple light enveloped it. Aunty Gwyneth stood back, pleased. “Now you are joined to him in water,” she said. “During the kindling, the fire will follow. The boy has chosen you as his kin. You cannot refuse; he has touched your auma.”
    David closed his eyes and fell back against the wall. This couldn’t be happening. Liz, having a
baby?
From an egg made of clay? He risked another look.From this cramped position, he was only able to make out the crudest of shapes in the egg. He didn’t doubt Liz’s word: It was a boy, for sure. But what kind of boy? What creature were they hatching? For the shape as he saw it had legs and hands and a well-pronounced forehead.
    And at the base of its spine, a dragon’s tail.

14
F LIGHT
     
    W ith clinical bluntness, Aunty Gwyneth took the egg back and somehow secreted it out of sight. “Of course, the tail will recede,” she said.
    “And the eyes?” asked Liz, sounding anxious.
    “Oval in the early years. Oval and amber. He will be feared. You must do what you can to avoid attention. There must be no interference — from the tenant, his girl … or the bear, of course.”
    The mention of bears took David by surprise. The shock wave continued on to Bonnington, who dug in a claw and faintly spat. David put him down and raised a finger to his lips. As the cat scuttled quietly up the stairs, David turned and listened in again. Aunty Gwyneth was talking about Lorel.
    “You are aware, of course, of the Teller’s presence? I could taste his stinking seal-stained breath in every foul draft of wind along the crescent.”
    “Lorel is no enemy of mine,” said Liz.
    Aunty Gwyneth let out a scathing hiss. “Romantic nonsense! The ice bears are charlatans, not to be trusted. The time has long since passed when they might have been considered to be guardians of the