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    Ven beat at the animal with his fists, but the dog was used to fighting
bulls, and the blows of a child, even an exceptionally strong child, could not
halt the animal’s furious attack.
    The dog snapped at Yen’s scaled flesh, trying to find purchase. Its sharp
teeth finally managed to pierce the scales. Getting a good grip, the dog shook
Yen’s leg back and forth in its strong jaws.
    The stupefied spectators were at first too shocked to do anything; then some
began to laugh and call out wagers, while others hovered ineffectually over the
child and the savage dog, arguing over how to handle the situation. Someone
grabbed a club to hit the dog, but the owner of the animal cried out that his
trained dog was worth more than a beggar boy. The man with the club persisted.
The dog’s owner attacked the man with the club and a general scuffle ensued.
    An ear-piercing shriek brought everything to a halt. “Demon! A child of the
devil! A hell-child!”
    Bright sun gleamed brilliantly off blue scales, shone on white claws. Each
man staring at the boy realized he was seeing something that should not be.
Eyes widened, mouths gaped.
    Leering, horrid faces thrust themselves at Ven. The pain of the dog bite was
minimal; the animal could not harm the hard scales of his leg. Fear made him
sick and dizzy. They will call you a demon, Bellona had often told him. They
will burn you at the stake.
    Someone shouted for a priest. Someone else for the sheriff.
    Rough hands seized hold of him. Ven fought and bit and scratched.
    “Let him go!” said a commanding voice. “Clear off!”
    Few would have obeyed, but the order was accompanied by thwacking sounds—a
staff thumping heads, necks, and backsides.
    The hands let go of Ven. The myriad faces disappeared. Ven stared up at blue
sky and a man’s face, dark-avised, with cool, dispassionate eyes. The man stood
protectively over Ven, gripping his staff in his hands, waiting to see if the
crowd was minded to have another go at him. No one was, apparently. Someone
again suggested summoning the sheriff and several ran off to do just that. The
others backed away, though there were still cries of “Demon spawn!” All the
while, the dog continued to worry Yen’s leg, snapping and snarling and
slavering.
    The man rested his staff on the ground within easy reach. Keeping one eye on
Ven and another on the crowd, the man seized hold of the dog. He prized the dog’s
jaws apart, forced the frenzied animal to release its grip, and flung it aside.
The dog stood panting, considering another run at Ven. The man lifted his staff.
The owner surged in, grabbed hold of the dog, and carried the squirming animal
away.
    Ven raised himself up.
    The man lowered the staff, rested his hand on Yen’s leg.
    “Lie still,” he said in a low, calm voice. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
    Ven knew better. He knew what would happen and he was right. They could see
his beast’s legs. They believed him to be a demon or perhaps the devil himself.
The cries for a priest increased. Someone suggested slaying him on the spot.
    “Here!” a man shouted. “Here is a holy sister!”
    “Save us, sister!” a woman screamed, hysterical, falling onto her knees. “Save
us from Satan!”
    The black fabric of the sister’s wimple lifted in the wind. Her hands
tightly clasped, her gaze fixed on him, she started walking toward him.
    “I said lie still,” the man’s voice ordered, sharp as a whip-crack. His grip
on Yen’s leg tightened, and Ven had no choice but to obey. “Let’s have a good
look at that wound.”
    The man moved so that the crowd could get a good view of Yen’s leg. Shrieks
and cries dwindled to mumbles that tailed off in bewilderment. Those standing
around Ven shook their heads and muttered and eyed his leg askance.
    Ven looked back at his leg and saw flesh—pink flesh—ripped and torn from the
dog’s mauling. Blood, oozing from the wound, soaked through the tatters of his
wool pants.
    The man with