The two of us got ready quickly and headed out only moments later. As soon as we were off the porch, I reached out for her hand, only to find she was already reaching my way. It was enough to make us giggle, and then she pulled me even closer, wrapping her arm around me the same way Drozel had earlier.
"So," she said, steering me the short distance to the market, "do you know what you want to be?"
"I do."
"Going to tell?" she asked.
I shook my head. It should be obvious, but I didn't want to ruin the surprise. And yet, we didn't enter the market the usual way. Instead, Lessa kept walking straight, almost like she was taking me to the hospital. Then, halfway down the row of colored fabric roofs, she turned into a smaller entrance, then again to stop at a little booth with a simple white cloth.
"Hello, Boris," she said to an old man sitting there. "I have a new Dragon."
He was like nothing I'd seen before. The man's skin was dark, his hair was light - what little of it there was left - and he had something clenched before his eye. When he turned to inspect me, he didn't bother to remove it, but he did smile in a way that made me instantly smile back.
"Merienne, right?" he asked. "The Phoenix's friend?"
"I am," I agreed. "And you're Boris?"
"The Scribe," he said, offering me his hand the same way Jerlis had earlier. When I took it, he murmured in approval. "It seems you're a little more relaxed than the Phoenix. Maybe they should've brought you to me sooner?"
"Jerlis only approved this today," Lessa pointed out.
Boris thrust out his lower lip and shrugged. "I'm not worried about approval, Gazelle. I'm worried about seeing through the crap. Although, if the mayor isn't against this, that does make things easier." Then he made a point of looking me over. "So you're ready to get your sign?"
"I think so, yes."
"Well," he said, "each sign is unique. To the living, I mean. There are rules for it, and we don't put signs back into use themoment someone dies. Still, tell me what you want to be, I'll tell you if it's available - and if it's right."
"The sparrow," I said.
Lessa shoved a hand over her mouth and turned away.
That made Boris squint at me again. "A small, helpless bird?"
"It's what Drozel calls her," Lessa explained.
"Ah." Boris nodded as if that explained a lot. "So, Merienne - "
"Meri," I corrected. "My father named me Merienne. My friends call me Meri, and that feels more like my Dragon name now."
The man hummed as if he hadn't expected that. "I see. So why do you think you're a sparrow? More importantly, why are you letting someone else name you?"
"I'm not," I promised. "See, Drozel got me a stuffed one, and I didn't know what it was. The stuffed animal, I mean. We had dolls to learn how to be good mothers. Not for comfort. And he's called me a sparrow for a while, but I only knew it was a bird. Now I know what kind of bird it is."
"And?" he asked, clearly wanting more.
So I lifted my chin and stood a little taller, ready to argue for this if I had to. "They're small, easy to overlook, and boring. Sparrows are also everywhere, right under your nose, and doing all the things you take for granted. They're happy with their tasks, and unstoppable, but easy to underestimate simply because they're so small and so common."
"Are you common?" he asked next.
That made me pause. In truth, I didn't know, and with this man watching me, I had to quickly think of an answer.
"I should be," I told him. "I am kind. I am compassionate. I am not lazy or unappreciative. I don't know if others are like that, but I know itshouldbe normal. Isn't that what 'common' means?"
Boris nodded at me once. "I do believe you are the Sparrow, Meri. It is a good sign."
"And not taken?" Lessa asked.
"No, not taken," Boris assured her. "Everyone wants to be something big and impressive. They claim snakes, dangerous animals, or unbelievable myths. Few want to be what they really are. Until today, I'd never met anyoneproudof the things that make them ordinary, and yet we all are. That's what makes a community work, after all."
