Chapter 7
Excerpt from Barrow’s Journal – My Year with Dragons
The universe has a memory of its own, the stars, the moons, the planets . . . every minute of it belongs to dragons. Mikhail has told me this is part of an ancient dragonsong. I could not fully grasp the words he said, but this is my best interpretation of it. Dragons are living memory.
London was not the Londinium of his memories.
The city he’d once visited had been a tiny village, a human population of less than twenty thousand. The buildings had been wooden then, but now they were all stone and glass. Even the newly built Westminster palace he’d visited in the eleventh century was no longer the same. The great tower built by William the Conqueror was no longer a single tower but a vast network of stone towers and courtya
