"Which is why I picked it," I said. "Yes, Drozel made me learn about it, but I'm not going to change myself for a man ever again."
"Good girl," he praised. "Now, how do you want your sparrow to look? Is it sitting on a branch? Pecking at the ground?"
"Flying," I told him. "Doing, going, helping. I don't know, but it should be flitting the way they do."
"And I'm paying," Lessa said even as the old man turned to the table before him.
"Yes, you are," Boris assured her, scribbling on the closest blank page before him.
"I'll earn it back," I told her softly, trying not to interrupt the man.
Lessa just shook her head. "No, this should be a gift, Meri. I also think you deserve it."
"Thank you," I mouthed.
And then we waited. The man's pencil moved furiously, making a lot of quick, decisive marks. While he worked, I couldn't help but wonder if his age made this harder, but then again, writing wasn't taxing. I couldn't imagine drawing was any worse. The thing in his eye might help him to see too.
Then he turned in his chair, sliding the paper toward us. Lessa and I both leaned in, excited to see what was there.
The design was small, exactly the size it would be on the metal sign die, but still clear. The bird was arcing its body up gracefully, with both wings raised, but tilted enough to show its back. The head was dark, just like the little brown and cream birds that bore the name. To me, it seemed to be both flitting and dancing.
"That's beautiful," I breathed.
"Sixty bucks," Boris said, holding out his hand to Lessa. "It will be ready in three days."
"She'll need a chain for it as well," Lessa pointed out. "I think she'd like one that matches."
Boris looked at me quickly, then back to Lessa. "Silver. That's sixty-five."
"Seventy," Lessa said, laying the money in his hand. "You made a simple design into something perfect for her. Take that as my appreciation for your work."
"It will be a very nice chain," Boris promised as he pulled the paper away.
"So that's it?" I asked. "I'm the Sparrow now?"
"Almost," Boris said as he reached for a book. "This is the part that makes it official." And he flipped open the pages, revealing nothing but lined columns and page upon page of signatures.
The man had to flip to the last few to find the first blank line. Then, he began to write, speaking as he did so. "On this day, I, Boris the Scribe, name you, Meri, as the Sparrow. The mark will be that of a sparrow flitting." He stabbed the page with the last word, turned the book, and passed me the pen. "Sign here. Only your name as you want it to be officially recorded."
"So, just Meri?" I asked.
"If you want to lose the rest, then yes."
I found the spot and scrawled my name proudly, using the short version. That made it my real name now! It felt likeshedding the last piece of my past, but when I dotted the I, something a few lines above caught my eye.
"That's Ayla's signature," I told Lessa, pointing at it.
"Mhm," she agreed. "And a few Dragons have had birthdays since and been given a sign. Now, it's your turn."
"And now," Boris said as he closed the book and let me see the front of it showing this was the entire registry of Lorsa's Citizens. "You are officially a Dragon."
"The Sparrow," I beamed. "Thank you!"
"You, Sparrow, areverywelcome," he told me. "Make the Gazelle take you to celebrate."
"That," Lessa said, "was exactly my plan." And she wrapped her arm around me and turned us both back the way we'd come.
"Maybe we can just go home?" I asked when we left the market.
