DragonQuest (15 page)

         
25
         

F
EAST OF
F
RIENDS

Kale squealed and hugged the emerlindian, lifting her tiny frame off the floor. “You’re here! You’re here!” She twirled the old woman around and set her down. “Oh, Granny Noon, you’re the very person I wanted to see.”

Granny Noon cradled Kale’s face with her dark brown hands and looked deep into her eyes. The wise woman’s calm joy flowed into Kale, slowing the girl’s racing heart and giving her peace.

Then Granny Noon stepped to her side and slipped an arm around her waist. “Come, we must talk.”

Kale looked around the room she had entered through the gateway.

A marione home!

Her feet slowed, but Granny Noon gently tugged her toward a square door. The memories of reticent mariones she had known while a slave made her uneasy. But she had also met loquacious mariones in Lee Ark’s village.

What type of mariones live here, I wonder. Warm or cold?

Kale breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the heavy wooden door swung open to the sound of laughter and music.

A crowd mingled in the large entryway to a country manor. Dark, rustic beams accented white plastered walls. A huge fireplace dominated one end of the room. Kale saw two massive square doors opened to a front carriageway and lawn.

Along with her eight comrades, many mariones of various ages participated in some kind of celebration. More visitors arrived and were greeted by the host and taken to a buffet of aromatic foods.

“The party is to cover your departure from this house,” explained Granny Noon. “The enemy may or may not know that there is a gateway in the back room. They’re definitely suspicious of the family’s activities.”

Gymn sat in the cupped hands of an elderly woman in a rocking chair. Kale knew he was soothing away the aches of her arthritis. Metta, Dibl, and Toopka had joined the crowd around Dar, who was playing a harpsichord. Regidor eyed the musical instrument as if it were a delectable dessert. Librettowit and Bardon sat in a corner, the librarian holding a tankard and scowling, Bardon just scowling.

Irritated, Kale called to him.
Bardon!

His eyes flicked her way, and the line of his jaw relaxed.

Stop scowling. These people are risking their lives to help us.

“I’m not scowling. I’m merely observing.”

From this side of your face, it looks like you’re scowling.

Dibl left the music makers and perched on Bardon’s shoulder. The solemn lehman lifted a finger and stroked the yellow dragon’s belly. Dibl hummed, closed his eyes in pleasure, and leaned against Bardon’s neck. Bardon smiled and winked at Kale.

Granny Noon tugged at Kale’s arm.
“Don’t frown so, dear. These are your friends.”

She guided Kale through the great hall to a sitting room where three comfortable chairs and a settee surrounded an elegant table.

“I’m really not hungry, Granny Noon,” Kale said as she sat down. “We just ate at Brunstetter Castle.”

Granny Noon sat as well, lifted the china teapot, and poured into delicate cups. Her homespun dress draped gracefully over her shoulders with soft folds of material.

“Just a cup of tea, then, to settle your nerves.”

“My nerves are fine now that I’ve seen you. Can you go with us?”

Granny Noon chuckled. “No, dear. I’m much too old for adventures.”

Kale took a sip of the warm, sweet tea. She closed her eyes as it went down her throat, delighting in the way it refreshed her deep down inside. When she opened her eyes again, she sighed and tackled the subject she most wanted to talk about.

“Granny Noon, I saw my mother.”

“Did you, dear?”

“Yes.” Now that she had decided to talk to Granny Noon about her mother, even against her mother’s wishes, she couldn’t hold the words back. “She called to me from a forest near our campsite. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Kale looked down to the drink in her hand. Beneath the dark amber brew, tiny specks of tea leaves floated near the bottom of the cup.

She shook her head slightly. “But I don’t like her, Granny Noon. She told me not to tell anyone that I’d seen her. The second time she called me, it felt awful. When Paladin said I had to come here and not go to Creemoor to rescue her, I was glad.”

Her hands shook, and the teacup rattled on its saucer. She hastily put the fragile pieces of china down on the table. Balling her hands into fists, she placed them on her knees.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Kale glanced at Granny Noon, but averted her eyes before really seeing the old woman’s expression. She didn’t want to see her disapproval. “As a slave, I know I’m supposed to obey. I’ve always been good about doing what I’m told to do. But I didn’t obey Mother. And I don’t want to find her or stay with her. I’d rather be with Dar and Regidor, Librettowit and Wizard Fenworth, my friends.” She sobbed.

“I understand what you’re saying, my dear.” Granny Noon took another sip of tea. “But I don’t understand why you’re crying.”

Kale peeked at Granny Noon and saw the emerlindian was not looking at her with disgust. She took a deep breath, trying to control the sobs. She must explain how she had failed and was doomed to continued failure. “I’m not good at questing. I don’t have any talents that will help my friends. I’ll do something stupid and get them killed. I don’t have knowledge like Librettowit. I can’t fight like Dar and Bardon. I don’t even know as much as Toopka does about living in a city. And I’m a bad person. I don’t even love my mother.”

Granny Noon managed to look sympathetic even with a smile on her lips. “You’re not a bad person, Kale. You’re not obligated to love a woman you don’t know. You’re not bound to obey a woman who’s done nothing to demonstrate that she’s trustworthy.”

“But she’s a servant of Paladin. She’s been doing a dangerous job for years.”

“The woman you describe does not resemble the Lyll Allerion I knew years ago.” Granny Noon paused to stir her tea. “Living in the stronghold of evil does take its toll on an individual. People change.”

“Sometimes for the better,” Kale put in, thinking about how much she had learned since leaving River Away.

“Yes, and sometimes not,” said Granny Noon. “We will wait and not evaluate her character without knowing more. Wulder will reveal her heart.”

Granny Noon stood. Kale jumped to her feet. This sign of respect she did not begrudge her emerlindian mentor.

“Our time for talk,” said Granny Noon, “is limited, Kale. I must give you and your friends the things you need to dwell in the city. But you’ve said some things that I cannot let pass.”

She swallowed at the sound of Granny Noon’s stern voice.
She is disgusted with me.

“I am not!”
The voice snapped in her mind. “Now listen to me. You referred to yourself as a slave. You are never to do so again. You said you had no talents of worth to your comrades. In this you mock Wulder’s wisdom.”

Kale gasped.

Granny Noon nodded. “Precisely so. It is a grave error to belittle the talents given to you by Wulder. Judge accurately the value of those talents. You must know exactly what you’re worth so that you do not fail your friends. This would be an inadequacy in your spirit, not in your ability.” The emerlindian gathered her skirts in her hands and headed for the door.

“We’re running late. I want you to be able to enter the city by tomorrow afternoon, which means you must leave before this day turns into night.” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Her voice softened. “Kale, remember to use to the fullest the talents given you and enhance your skill with every opportunity Wulder provides. You are the Dragon Keeper, and none of your gifts are insignificant.”

         
26
         

A
MBUSH

Kale rode on top of a stack of trunks and luggage strapped to the carriage roof. Bardon sat beside the driver, a marione named Bruit, with Toopka tucked between them. Librettowit, Regidor, and Dar rode inside. With instructions to stay out of sight, the little dragons slept contentedly in their pocket-dens.

Granny Noon had given the adventurers bags of coins, letters of introduction, lists of contacts, and a key to an upper-class residence. The questing party would not be trooping through mountains, valleys, and hidden caves, but through the streets of a metropolis and the homes of the wealthy. Regidor would be disguised as a foreign abbot whose monastery indulged in trade for the benefit of their demesne. Librettowit, an art dealer. Dar, butler and valet. Bardon would play the part of household sheridan, a special servant armed to protect family and property. Kale and Toopka were ordinary servants.

Granny Noon had given Kale a piece of silver, a rather odd, flat disk with two irregular pie shapes cut out of the sides. Granny Noon said it would help her identify people. Kale turned the shiny silver piece over and over in her callused palm.

“How?” she had asked.

“I don’t actually know, dear. But Paladin said it would come in handy, so do your best not to lose it.”

Kale kept the disk in the pouch with the egg Paladin had picked. Now, as they bounced along in the warm afternoon sun, the small metal piece was all but forgotten.

A giant draft horse pulled the carriage. The urohm-bred animal had no difficulty hauling the load up and down the cultivated hills. On either side, crops looked ready for harvest in carefully tended fields. Farm carts, tinkers, and smaller carriages passed frequently on the wide, well-graded road.

As they approached a wooded area, Kale relaxed against a softer bundle with her hands behind her head. She gazed at white, puffy clouds drifting lazily in a blue sky.

This isn’t going to be so bad. No mordakleeps. No blimmets. No grawligs. No schoergs.

An arrow whizzed by Kale’s head and penetrated one of the trunks. The shaft vibrated with a hard hum, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up.

Shouts erupted from other travelers on the road. A horse neighed, followed by the sound of hoofbeats galloping away.

Kale heard Bardon yell, “Get down!” and saw him push Toopka off the seat onto the floor of the driver’s perch.

Bruit fought to control the frightened horse, pulling it to a stop. In the next moment, Bardon had a bow in his hands with an arrow nocked and ready to shoot. He aimed at a target ahead and released the arrow. With a fluid motion, he pulled another arrow out of his quiver.

Kale peered forward over a ridge of luggage. A band of tattered bisonbecks plowed into the walking travelers. They swung clubs, grabbed parcels, and threw their victims to the side of the road. Women screamed, children cried, and men tried desperately to protect their families and property from the large, brutal robbers.

Bruit still struggled to keep the horse from bolting. Beneath Kale, the doors to the carriage flew open. Librettowit and Dar rushed to lend aid.

Drawing a deep breath, Kale pulled her small sword from its scabbard. The carriage jerked as the horse reared and stomped angrily, protesting the chaos around them. She waited for a still moment between lurches and vaulted over the side of the carriage onto the back of a bisonbeck bandit.

Her blade plunged into the highwayman’s shoulder and struck bone. The bisonbeck howled and grabbed at Kale. She jerked her sword free and slid down his back to the ground.

As he whirled around, she braced herself as she had seen Dar do in his mock combats with Bardon. The beast’s momentum drove his leg past her blade, slicing his calf. She rolled away, taking her bloodstained weapon with her.

The man fell with a thud to the dirt road. Kale looked back to see him squirming away from the wildly rocking wheels of the carriage. Bardon landed on his feet beside the downed outlaw. Kale turned away.

Librettowit swung a hadwig. The spiked metal ball tore across the side of an attacker. The bisonbeck roared and faced the tumanhofer. With an adept change of the swing, Librettowit clipped the taller man in the face. The brigand leaned forward, grabbing at his wounded cheek. The next swing of the heavy weapon caught the back of his head and laid him out on the road.

Kale joined Dar, who stood between two ugly bisonbecks and a family of farmers. The marione farmer stood his ground with a strapping son beside him. But with no weapons except their walking staffs, they must have welcomed the sight of the feisty doneel. The two scruffy bisonbecks reevaluated the odds against four determined fighters and ran.

Kale, Dar, and the two farmers waded into the battle alongside a tinker fighting to keep his wagon. When those ruffians dispersed, Kale looked back to see Bardon fighting with a sword. She only had a moment to appreciate his grace next to the awkward attacker before a shout called her attention to a bisonbeck man carrying off a tumanhofer woman toward a stand of trees.

Kale followed. Heirnot trees stood with their slender trunks spaced far enough apart that she had no problem catching up with the villain abducting the woman. She launched herself at the man’s knees and brought him down with a solid tackle. Then she rolled away and came up again with her small sword ready to swing. Neither the man nor the maiden stirred.

She eyed the mass of disheveled clothing, waiting for some sign of life. She panted from the run, but nothing in the mound moved with any indication of breathing. As she watched, the garments shrunk as if they had lost their stuffing. The woman and her abductor were gone, leaving no more than a pile of ragged clothes.

Kale straightened from her fight-ready stance and glowered. Reaching with her mind, she didn’t connect with anything. Taking a cautious step forward, she kept her sword pointed at the curious heap.

A growl warned her an instant before a massive body slammed into her from the side, knocking her down. She managed to keep a grip on the sword as the attacker pinned her arm to the ground. Struggling under his weight, she felt herself pushed deeper into the old leaves. A huge hand pressed against her skull, and she thought she would suffocate in the damp mulch.

She became aware of the distress of the minor dragons trapped in her cape. Metta sang an outraged battle song she had never heard before. Gymn sent wave after wave of strength to Kale, but it was not enough to topple the man off her back. Dibl giggled as images of squashed berries flitted through his mind and therefore hers.

The bisonbeck grunted, jerked, grunted again, and rose off Kale. She forced her arms underneath her and pushed to pry her body out of the muck. She turned on her side to see Bardon deliver a fisted blow to the disarmed assailant. The man sank to his knees and fell over.

Bardon stood with his sword ready, scanning the area around them for other attackers. “Are you all right, Kale?”

She nodded, mumbling, “Yes.”

The dwindling sounds of fighting told her the skirmish was almost over.

Dibl flew from her cape and landed on their rescuer. Bardon stroked his orange belly. A twinkle lurked in the lehman’s blue eyes. He offered a hand to help Kale rise.

“Next time,” he said with a grin, “try attacking your opponent from the top instead of the bottom. It gives you an advantage.”

She jerked her hand out of his. “That wasn’t funny.” She brushed at the leaves and dirt covering her.

“Dibl thought it was.”

Her eyes came up to meet his. “You heard Dibl mindspeak?”

Bardon’s brow furrowed more, and he shook his head. “No, it was only an impression.”

“An impression is all you usually get from a minor dragon,” Kale explained. “Images. Thoughts that are almost words, but not quite.”

“I don’t mindspeak.”

She ignored his objection and continued to puzzle over how Bardon had “heard” Dibl.

“Dibl is bonded to me. I can mindspeak with him. He would converse easily with someone else adept at mindspeaking. In a desperate situation, one of my minor dragons could probably get a message through to someone rather inept at the art.” Kale studied Bardon, someone she had always considered dense in the ways of wizardry. She shook her head. “But you heard Dibl.”

“I didn’t.”

“Did you think of that quip about me fighting from on top instead of the bottom?”

Bardon nodded with a smug smile tightening his lips.

“What was Dibl’s reaction?”

“He laughed.”

Kale raised a finger and shook it at the staid lehman. “He didn’t laugh out loud.”

Bardon’s scowl returned, but he didn’t speak.

“How many of Paladin’s servants at The Hall mindspeak?”

“Some instructors. Grand Ebeck. Maybe a half dozen in all.”

“So maybe you never had a chance to develop the talent.”

“Maybe you’re full of foolishness.”

They glared at each other, each with their hands on their hips in a no-nonsense, straight-legged posture.

Dibl flew to Kale’s shoulder.

She blinked and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

She leaned over to wipe her blade in the leaves, cleaning off the blood. “For saving my life.”

“Oh, that.”

She looked up and giggled. “Yes, that.”

Bardon smiled.

She ducked her head, concentrating on polishing her weapon.

He smiled, and Dibl isn’t even sitting on his shoulder.