The Dragon's Eye (6 page)

After helping me to choose a much stouter stick, which looked perfect for beating back even the thickest briars, Dr. Drake showed me to my room and bade me good night. Darcy was already sleeping in one of the other beds. I was very tired too. Yet I was so anxious to have my first lesson in dragonology that I have never had so little sleep in all my life as I had that night. I crept quietly out of the room and was ready and waiting for Dr. Drake in the hallway with my record book and my stick in my hand at half past four.

When he arrived at five o'clock, Dr. Drake was carrying the same leather bag I had often seen him carry, a stout stick of his own, and a glass bottle full of some kind of honey-coloured liquid with a label that read, D
R
. D
RAKE
'
S
L
INCTUS
. He unlatched the front door, and we slipped out.

“Daniel,” he whispered, “the first lesson a dragonologist must learn is that once there were a great many dragons, but now there are far fewer. Although fully grown dragons are indeed powerful and dangerous, they are, as a species, no match for human beings. There is a danger that they may even become extinct. So the first lesson a dragonologist must learn is to conserve and protect those dragons that still remain, wherever he can.”

“Is that what the linctus is for?” I asked him.

“As I told you, Scorcher is sick. It is strange because dragons hardly ever get ill, and I have not encountered this particular sickness in dragons before. But the linctus seems to be helping. Scorcher has brightened up considerably. Soon I will be able to take him home.”

“Do you know where he comes from, then?”

“Yes.”

“Did someone steal him?”

“I am afraid so, Daniel. I did not realise until this morning exactly who it was or quite what it was they wanted. But now I see a great danger coming, not only for dragonologists, but for ordinary people and dragons, too.”

“Was it Ignatius Crook?” I asked.

“Wait for me here,” said Dr. Drake. “I must go and give Scorcher his medicine.”

When he came back, the bottle of linctus was empty. Dr. Drake put it down next to the front door. Then he peered at me closely, in much the same way he had peered at Scorcher the day before, and gestured for me to follow him. We headed up the drive and along the path that led into the forest. There we walked silently for some distance — it may have been about two miles — before Dr. Drake paused and offered me a cheese sandwich and a drink of lemonade from a bottle that he was carrying in his bag.

“Now,” said Dr. Drake when we had both eaten, “have you heard of the Knucker Hole?”

I had to admit that I hadn't.

“It is a very deep pool about thirty miles from here that lies just outside of the village of Lyminster, near the south coast. People used to say that the pool was so deep that it actually had no bottom. They also used to say that it was the home of a dragon. But only one of those two things was correct.”

“The part about the dragon?” I asked.

“Indeed. The dragon that lived there used to be what is called a knucker. They are quite small for dragons. They are long and thin, and they have very small wings and cannot actually fly. But I don't want to tell you too much at the moment, as I need you to find out everything you can on your own. Take out your record book, and make a note of your first assignment: tonight I want you to make a list of all the differences you notice between the knucker and Scorcher, who is a European dragon. Providing you can remember much about Scorcher, of course.” He said.

“I remember Scorcher's eyes quite well,” I said.

“Really?” said Dr. Drake. “I would have thought that his fangs, wings, tail, scales, or the smoke coming from his nostrils — which is quite a remarkable phenomenon for such a young dragon, by the way — would have been more memorable. In order to compare the two dragons, you are going to have to meet a knucker. And while there is no knucker at Lyminster anymore, there is one here in the forest, which I have been studying for quite some time. When I am at home, I like to make a daily record of her behaviour, and I am going to introduce you. I call her Weasel.”

“Does Weasel live in a pool, too?” I asked.

“No. A knucker does not always need a pool. Weasel has a hole in the side of one of the streambeds. Knuckers are very lazy. Weasel is happy living here because the soil is mostly sand, which is easy to dig burrows in, and she is rather partial to rabbit. But I would be careful not to get too close to her until she gets to know you. It is sometimes said that a hungry knucker will take a stray child for its dinner, if it finds one. Now, I am going to tell you no more about knuckers, but I want you to note down everything you see.

“Dragonology, as I am sure you realise, is not a very well known area of study, and most books about it are not at all reliable. So a dragonologist's record book — or dragon diary — becomes his most precious resource, with information on everything he has ever learned or found out about dragons, and notes on all the different things he plans to find out as soon as he can. When you study a live dragon, it is particularly important to record the time, the weather conditions, the sort of dragon you are studying, and any dragon behaviours that you note, including whether it can talk or not.”

I must have looked surprised — and probably rather sceptical at this — because Dr. Drake continued: “Dragons are practically the only creatures, apart from humans and unicorns, of course, that can talk. Not all of them have this ability, however. Knuckers generally don't, but there have been some exceptions. But to find out anything, of course, you have to find the knucker. Which means a spot of tracking. Why don't you look around? I suggest starting with some soft ground.”

Dr. Drake gestured with his stick, and I climbed down a steep bank and through some thick undergrowth to where I could hear the trickling stream. I was amazed to discover a set of large lizardlike footprints in the sandy mud.

“You must make a record of what those tracks look like, Daniel,” said Dr. Drake. “Draw a picture of them. Then you will be able to recognise them again. Try to show how deep the various bits press into the sand, and make sure you get the proportions right.”

And so I bent down to study the tracks and drew a careful picture of the clearest of the tracks as best I could. There were three long, thin toe marks at the front, each with a claw at the end that had made only the lightest of impressions. There was a deep pad mark and another mark left by the beast's single hind claw. When I had finished, I showed my work to Dr. Drake.

“Excellent,” he said. “Now follow the tracks.”

So I stepped over the narrow stream and followed the tracks up to where they disappeared among the leafy bracken.

“Be careful, Daniel!” whispered Dr. Drake behind me.

I peered ahead into the gloom and realised that there was something slithering gently ahead of me through the undergrowth. It was the knucker.

“Weasel is hunting rabbits,” whispered Dr. Drake. “She almost always hunts in the early morning.”

As I edged forwards, I trod on a stick, which broke with a loud snap and caused Weasel to stop and raise her head. As she turned towards me, I could see that she had two bright, snakelike eyes. But her eyes didn't have the intelligence of Scorcher's eyes.

“Be careful, Daniel,” said Dr. Drake in a loud whisper. “Stay absolutely still.”

I stayed as still as I could. The knucker, which must have been very used to Dr. Drake by now, glanced over at him and then ignored us. I studied her carefully. She was leathery brown and seemed to have skin rather than scales. I could see two little bunches near her front legs, which must have been the useless wings Dr. Drake had mentioned.

Meanwhile Weasel continued her rabbit hunt. She slithered into a thick patch of undergrowth, her attention fixed on a patch of grass. Several rabbits, which had been disturbed by the noises I had made, had returned to feed. Weasel's head quivered in anticipation as she watched one particularly fat-looking rabbit hop over to join two others on a patch of clover. Suddenly she leapt forwards, her tail flicked around behind, and her snakelike body curled into three loops, which she dropped neatly over the three rabbits' heads. Soon they were dangling from the loops in Weasel's body like clothes bobbing on a washing line. Then, with three quick gulps, they were gone. The knucker stretched, gave a happy little shudder and wiggle, then slithered away.

“Now,” said Dr. Drake, when Weasel had gone, “that is your first lesson completed. I would like you to complete the first entries in your record book by this evening if possible.”

And with that, we returned through the forest, and back to Castle Drake.

When we arrived, I found Beatrice sitting at a little table in the drawing room. She was reading a book, and I saw that she had a record book just like mine, lying open beside her, with a dictionary next to it. She seemed to have completed quite a large entry on the knucker already. She looked up.

“How was your trip?” she asked. “Did you track Weasel, then watch her hunting?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, tomorrow Dr. Drake will probably take you to Weasel's lair,” she said, smiling. “I was wondering if you could help me. I'm having a bit of trouble with the idea behind this book. Dr. Drake says that you understand it quite well, but I'm not sure where to begin.”

She showed the book to me. It was Darwin's
On the Origin of Species.

“Are you studying that too, then?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Beatrice. “Dr. Drake says that it's exactly the sort of thing a dragonologist needs to understand in order to study dragons in what he calls ‘the proper scientific manner.'”

I felt pleased that Beatrice needed my help, so I said, “Well, as far as I can see, Darwin visited some islands called the Galápagos, where he noticed that different tortoises and birds were slightly different on different islands. So he came up with a theory. All baby animals are born with small differences between them. One may be bigger, another faster, or another may just have a longer neck. If those differences give them an advantage over other animals — in defending themselves, perhaps, or in finding food — then they are more likely to survive until they have babies themselves, and the babies may well exhibit the same traits. Over millions of years, these differences can grow and grow until the animals become so different that they can turn into a completely new species. It's called natural selection.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” said Beatrice.

Beatrice went back to reading the book and occasionally looking up words in the dictionary, which was something that, annoyingly, I hadn't thought of when I'd been trying to read it. I took out my record book and, pencil in hand, opened a new page and laid out my records as I had been taught by Dr. Drake:

When I had completed the record of everything I had seen, I made a new entry listing the differences between Weasel and Scorcher.