and the string would form four triangles that flicked into a square. . . . Therru never sang aloud, but Tenar heard her whispering the chant under her breath as she made the figures, alone, sitting on the doorstep of the mage's house.   And, Tenar thought, what bond linked her, herself, to the air jordan 9 high heels child, beyond pity, beyond mere duty to the helpless? Lark would have kept her if Tenar had not taken her. But Tenar had taken her without ever asking herself why. Had she been following hen heart? Ogion had asked nothing about the child, but he had said, "They will fear her And Tenar had replied, "They do," and truly. Maybe she herself feared the child, as she feared cruelty, and rape, and fire. Was fear the bond that held her? "Goha," Therru said, sitting on her heels under the peach tree, looking at the place in the hard summer dirt where she had planted the peach stone, "what are dragons?" "Great creatures," Tenar said, "like lizards, but longer than a ship-bigger than a house. With wings, like birds. They breathe out fire Therru shook her headYou did," she saidAh," said Tenar. And presently, "The peach you planted will need water to grow. Once a day, till the rains come. Therru got up and trotted off around the corner of air jordan 8 high heels the house to the well. Her legs and feet were perfect, unhurt. Tenar liked to see her walk or run, the dank, dusty, pretty little feet on the earth. She came back with Ogion's watering-jug, struggling along with it, and tipped out a small flood oven the new plantingSo you remember the story about when people and dragons were all the same. . . . It told how the humans came here, eastward, but the dragons all stayed in the far western isles. A long, long way away. Therru nodded. She did not seem to be paying attention, but when Tenar, saying "the western isles," pointed out to the sea, Therru turned her face to the high, bright horizon glimpsed between staked bean-plants and the milking shed. A goat appeared on the roof of the milking shed and arranged itself in profile to them, its head nobly poised; apparently it considered itself to be a mountain goatSippy's got loose again," said TenarHesssss! Hesssss!" went Thernu, imitating Heathen's goat call; and Heathen herself appeared by the bean-patch fence, saying "Hesssss!" up at the goat, which ignored her, gazing thoughtfully down at the beans. Tenar left the three of them to play the catching-Sippy game. She wandered on past the bean patch towards the edge of the cliff and along it. Ogion's house stood apart from the village and closer than any other house to the edge of the Ovenfell, here a steep, grassy slope broken by ledges and outcrops of rock, where goats could be pastured. As you went on north the drop grew even steeper, till it began to fall sheer; and on the path the rock of the great ledge showed through the soil, till a mile or so north of the village the Overfell had narrowed to a shelf of reddish sandstone hanging above the sea that undercut its base two thousand feet below. Nothing grew at that far end of the Ovenfell but lichens and rockworts and here and there a blue daisy, wind-stunted, like a button dropped on the rough, crumbling stone. Inland of the cliff's edge to the north and east, above a narrow strip of marshland the dark, tremendous side of Gont Mountain nose up, forested almost to the peak. The cliff stood so high above the bay that one must look down to see its outer shores and the vague lowlands of Essany. Beyond them, in all the south and west, there was nothing but the sky above the sea. Tenar had liked to go there in the years cheap nike heels uk she had lived in Re Albi. Ogion had loved the forests, but she, who had lived in a desert where the only trees for a hundred miles were a gnarled orchard of peach and apple, hand watered in the endless summers, where nothing grew green and moist and easy, where there was nothing but a mountain and a great plain and the sky-she liked the cliff's edge better than the enclosing woods. She liked having nothing at all over her head. The lichens, the grey rockwort, the stemless daisies, she liked them too; they were familiar. She sat down on the shelving rock a few feet from the edge and looked out to sea as she had used to do. The sun was hot but the ceaseless wind cooled the sweat on her face and arms. She leaned back on her hands and thought of nothing, sun and wind and sky and sea filling her, making her transparent to sun, wind, sky, sea. But her left hand reminded her of its existence, and she looked round to see what was scratching the heel of hen hand. It was a tiny thistle, crouched in a crack in the sandstone, barely lifting its colorless spikes into the light and wind. It nodded stiffly as the wind blew, resisting the wind, rooted in rock. She gazed at it for a long time. When she looked out to sea again she saw, blue in the blue haze where sea met sky, the line of an island: Orane'a, easternmost of the Inner Isles. She gazed at that faint dream-shape, dreaming, until a bird flying from the west over the sea drew her gaze. It was not a gull, for it flew steadily, and too high to be a pelican. Was it a wild goose, or an albatross, the great, rare voyager of the open sea, come among the islands? She watched the slow beat of the wings, far out and high in the dazzling air. Then she got to her feet, retreating a little from the cliff's edge, and stood motionless, her heart going hard and hen breath caught in her throat, watching the sinuous, iron-dark body borne by long, webbed wings as red as fire, the out-reaching claws, the coils of smoke fading behind it in the air. Straight to Gont it flew, straight to the Ovenfell, straight to her. She saw the glitter of rust-black scales and the gleam of the long eye. She saw the red tongue that was a tongue of flame. The stink of burning filled the wind, as with a hissing roar the dragon, turning to land on the shelf of rock, breathed out a sigh of fire. Its feet clashed on the rock. The thorny tail, writhing, rattled, and the wings, scarlet where the sun shone through them, stormed and rustled as they folded down to the mailed flanks. The head turned slowly. The dragon looked at the woman who stood there within reach of its scythe-blade talons. The woman looked at the dragon. She felt the heat of its body. She had been told that men must not look into a dragon's eyes, but that was nothing to hen. It gazed straight at her from yellow eyes under armored canapaces wide-set above the narrow nose and flaring, fuming nostrils. And her nike heels uk small, soft face and dank eyes gazed straight at it. Neither of them spoke. The dragon turned its head aside a little so that she was not destroyed when it did speak, or perhaps it laughed-a great "Hah!" of orange flame. Then it lowered its body into a crouch and spoke, but not to herA hivaraihe, Ged," it said, mildly enough, smokily,