DragonQuest (3 page)

         
3
         

T
HE
M
URAL

Bardon bowed in the magistrate’s direction and then nodded to Kale and Dar. Kale wondered how anyone could gaze upon the festive garden with so little interest. Guests and serving maids wore colorful attire. A sweet fragrance rose from the flowers. Guitarists provided lilting music. Lehman Bardon looked as if nothing made any impression on his wooden soul.

Kale frowned at the grim lehman.

Dar raised a hand, acknowledging the escort from The Hall. “One minute, Bardon,” he said. “I wish to thank the magistrate for his intervention.”

Well now, Bardon can’t like that. Dar is only a leecent and Bardon is a lehman. Surely, Dar should have called him by his title. And shouldn’t a leecent jump to do whatever a lehman wants?

Kale watched Bardon’s face for a reaction. Not a muscle twitched. He nodded solemnly and stepped out of the way of a maid carrying a tray of tall glasses.

Hmm? Our teachers keep reminding Dar of his new humble rank. But I bet Bardon lets Dar do what he wants, then reports his misconduct. He’s an official monitor, and everyone says that’s just a fancy name for a snitch.

Dar approached Magistrate Hyd and engaged the man in conversation. As a diplomat for his region, Wittoom, the doneel had traveled to every large metropolis and visited the courts of many rulers.

Kale admired Dar’s way with words. He could talk to a turnip farmer, a wizard, or a king and never utter an inappropriate comment. Dar could act like a noble, fight like a knight, and play like a peasant. He enjoyed everything he did, and he did most things well.

Gymn and Metta flew off Kale’s shoulders. She was about to call them back when she saw what had attracted their attention. A serving maid stood in the window of the Gander with a platter. She put it down on the broad sill, and the dragons landed on either side.

The blond maid dipped a curtsy to the small dragons and giggled when they inclined their heads toward her, thumping their tails once in a friendly greeting.

“The mayor in the town where I grew up had a minor dragon,” she said. “She was blue and predicted the weather.”

Someone called from inside the inn. The maid smiled at Metta and Gymn. “Enjoy your treat.” She glanced up at Kale and winked before returning to her duties.

Dar was still talking to the magistrate. Bardon stood stiff and unyielding. So, holding the doneel orphan close, Kale joined her dragons. She saw the maid had placed a mound of pudding in the middle of the plate and sprinkled it with shaved cardonut. It looked like an island covered with grass in the middle of a brown lake of ale. With typical dragon enthusiasm for food, Metta and Gymn lapped at what was called poorman’s dessert.

“I’m hungry,” said Toopka.

Kale patted the small child’s back. “I thought your tummy was full of pickle.”

Toopka flashed a mischievous grin. “That was an hour ago.”

“Stealing is not right.”

“I know.” Toopka’s face fell. “Most of the grocers leave food behind the stalls for those who have to forage. Master Tellowmatterden doesn’t.” A grin peeked from under her furry top lip. A twinkle lit her eyes. “And he hollers so loud and gets red. It’s fun to watch him stomp around.”

“It
is
still wrong to steal.”

“Paladin says to feed the orphans and widows.”

Kale wondered if that was written in one of the books that sat on her desk in The Hall. “Even if he does,” she said slowly, “you should take what is given to you. You shouldn’t steal from Tellowmatterden.”

“I wish you would quit calling it stealing. It was more for fun than stealing.”

“If it’s stealing, it has to be called stealing.”

Toopka gave a great sigh and laid her head on Kale’s shoulder. “I’m still hungry.”

A serving maid passed by just at that moment. Kale suspected Toopka had timed her declaration. The young woman stopped, picked a delicate finger sandwich off her tray, and handed it to the little doneel. Toopka accepted it with one of her winning smiles and a polite, “Thank you.” She nestled in Kale’s arms and chewed with contentment and a great deal of lip-smacking.

Leaning against the wall next to the window, Kale surveyed the people around her in the garden. A marione family with small children sat at a table. The father said something, and the others laughed. Their relaxed, friendly faces reminded Kale of the mariones she had met at Lee Ark’s home. Unlike the people in River Away where she was raised, these mariones enjoyed each other and life in general. Even though they lived in the shadow of the evil wizard Risto’s domain, Lee Ark’s family still managed to smile.

Gathered around another smaller table, four kimen women and several children sipped their tea and ate spicy hard cakes known as daggarts. Kale sniffed the air, wishing she could smell the fragrant morsels. Instead the strong odor of malty ale from the dish at her elbow assaulted her. Wrinkling her nose, she frowned as her dragons slurped the treat.

A roar of laughter from inside the Gander caught her attention. Through the window she saw a dozen men lounging around rough wooden tables in a dim room. A cold fireplace stood against one wall, and a mural covered another. Kale leaned in for a better look.

In the tavern in River Away, there had been a similar mural. Kale had thought nothing of the picture. But during her adventure, a quest to find a meech egg and deliver it to Wizard Fenworth, she had found herself in a real scene that looked very much like the picture on that tavern wall.

She squinted at the mural inside the Gander. A boat moved across dark waters. A tapered line of light from a full moon made a path across the water and illuminated the prow. Two figures sat at the front. One looked like her friend Dar. Kale moved to the open door of the Gander. She had to see who else was in the boat.

With Toopka’s thin arms snug around her neck, she slipped along the wall of the busy room. On the other side of the mural wall, the hallway passed through the center of the building. The painting covered the entire length. Gently rolling waves extended from one end to the other. White foam capped some of the waves.

Only in the center had the artist strayed from the persistent, repetitive blue-green waves. Here moonlight danced over the waters. The boat edged into its glowing beam.

She examined the people in the boat. A doneel sat in the prow with a small bundle on his knee. A kimen sat straddling the front tip of the small vessel, with his legs dangling above the water. His clothing either glowed white or reflected the moon. Behind the doneel sat a larger figure in a gray cape. This person leaned against an old man, bearded and wearing a wizard’s hat. With their heads together, they seemed to be whispering. In the widest part of the boat sat a urohm who dipped one oar into the waves. Beside him sat a marione and a young o’rant, both of whom applied their muscles to the other oar.

The light did not reach the back of the boat. Kale moved closer, trying to make out the images in the shadow behind the huge urohm. Possibly a tumanhofer with kimens around him. If so, the kimens had not illuminated their clothing. A fine lady sat beside the squat man who had to be a tumanhofer.

“Why are you looking at that?” asked Toopka.

“It’s like a painting I saw before.”

“Another boat?”

“No.”

“A lake?”

“No. It was a mountain pass.”

“This isn’t like a mountain pass.”

“No, but the people look the same.”

“Leecent Kale?”

“Yes?”

“I think we better get out of here.”

Kale became aware of the silence. She straightened and turned to view the room. The serving maids had stopped in their journeys back and forth to the kitchen. Every man sat or stood motionless. All eyes bored into Kale.

“This is the men’s side of the inn,” whispered Toopka.

Faced with more than a dozen glares, Kale swallowed hard.

Toopka’s little fist shook Kale’s collar. “I really think we better get out of here,” the doneel hissed. “Now!”

Kale gave a brisk bow to her statuelike audience. She had seen Dar do the elegant motion many times. Only when
she
did it, the gesture felt jerky. Sidestepping along the wall, she came to the corner of the room and had a clear shot to the back door. She hustled toward the bright rectangle of sunlight.

The closer she got to the opening, the faster her feet hit the clapboard floor. Her steps echoed as if she were crossing a wooden bridge. Her lungs ached as she reached the door, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Gasping, she swung around the corner and out into the crisp, clean air. She also smashed headlong into a broad chest.

A quick step backward put her in the doorway. She tilted her head and saw the obstruction. Bardon. Lehman Bardon. With a face that would freeze water.

         
4
         

S
UMMONED

Bardon parted the market crowd with a firm step forward and an occasional, “Excuse me.” Dar ambled along behind, but Kale kept close to Bardon’s back so people wouldn’t converge again before she had a chance to get through.

Toopka slumbered on Kale’s shoulder. The little girl wasn’t worried about what would happen once they reached The Hall and had to face the dean of leecents. Inside Kale’s cape, Metta and Gymn had tucked themselves into their pocket-dens. The minor dragons were content, their bellies full of poorman’s dessert. They hadn’t been humiliated by the scene at the Gander.

Kale, however, was worried about the interview with the dean. Her cheeks warmed every time she recalled the shocked expression on the faces of the people at the inn.

How was I supposed to know the inn had been divided into three parts over two hundred years ago? One side for women, one side for men. I didn’t know the terraced garden is for families. And I
don’t
think it was obvious, no matter what Bardon says.

Bardon stopped suddenly, and Kale ran into his back. He tipped his hat and bowed to a marione matron, allowing the woman to cross his path. He continued on without a word to Kale.

Manners! He’s got manners for some, but not for me. Why does he treat me like a blattig fish?

She glanced over her shoulder. Dar tipped his hat to the same matron and then to another. The ladies rewarded him with friendly smiles.

Hmm? Dar and Bardon both have manners, but Dar has something else, too.

Kale’s head swiveled back and forth as she tried to observe both young men at once. Dar’s actions were graceful in comparison to Bardon’s stiff movements. The doneel’s face beamed with friendliness and goodwill. Kale couldn’t see Bardon’s expression, but she knew well the determined look about his eyes and mouth.

So does the way Dar acts toward people bounce back at him? He smiles, so people smile in return?

All the way to The Hall, Kale watched the two men interact with those they passed. It kept her from dwelling on the unpleasant reception she expected in the dean of leecents’ office.

Two guards beside a high-arched entry gave them sober nods, signaling them to move on. A footman opened the great front door and quietly instructed them to proceed immediately to the high chancellor’s study.

The high chancellor! Not the dean?

Kale looked back at Dar, hoping he could explain.

Why?
she asked, making sure that only he could hear.
We couldn’t be in
that
much trouble.

Dar’s eyebrows shot up, and he shrugged.
“I don’t know. Seems to me like a lot of hullabaloo for a simple walk in the city. Let me do the talking, Kale.”

Gladly!

Bardon led them up a wide, curving staircase and into a long corridor. Sunlight streamed through elaborate stained-glass windows, making a mottled patchwork of bright colors on the polished marble floor. Portraits of countless dignitaries from The Hall’s illustrious history looked down on the procession approaching the high chancellor’s quarters.

On either side of one of the many mahogany doors, two men stood waiting. One wore the simple garb of a house servant. The other wore the uniform of The Hall guard. Bardon stopped a few feet from the door.

“We’re expected,” he said. “Lehman Bardon, Leecent Kale, and Leecent Dar.”

The guard remained motionless, but his eyes roamed over the small party. Evidently he saw no reason to challenge them.

The footman bowed and opened the door. In a clear voice he announced their arrival. A rumbling bass answered, one Kale had heard intoning words of wisdom almost every morning at chapel.

“Come in, come in.”

No anger heated the simple command. Kale relaxed and walked into the room, expecting to see High Chancellor Grand Ebeck looking staid and solemn. The black emerlindian had lived long and gathered much wisdom.

“Here they are at last.” The deep voice rolled across the room.

Smiling broadly, High Chancellor Grand Ebeck stood beside the window, bright sunlight outlining his thin form. He wore long, sweeping robes of wispy purple, gold, and royal blue stripes. His ebony hair flowed over his shoulders, almost reaching the lush carpet. He held a book in one hand and a large mug in the other. The scent of eberbark tea filled the room.

Kale smiled. Then her eyes shifted to the person beside High Chancellor Grand Ebeck, and she let out a squeal.

“Librettowit!”

Kale forgot the decorum expected of a mere leecent visiting the high chancellor’s quarters and rushed across the room to embrace the sturdy tumanhofer. Toopka squirmed and protested softly, but Kale paid no attention.

She and Librettowit greeted each other with laughter and hugs and questions tumbling out too quickly to be answered. When that round of greetings subsided, Dar joined them, and they began again.

Kale watched Librettowit with a grin on her face she couldn’t subdue. The tumanhofer cleared his throat, peered over his glasses, and inspected his young friends. He looked much as he always had, a bit grumpy, a bit curious, a bit impatient. He was a very dependable tumanhofer.

“Now who is this ragged little beasty looking something like a doneel?” Librettowit patted the sleepy-eyed child on her back.

“Toopka,” said Kale. With a sigh of relief, Kale realized she had landed in the right circumstances to have all her troubles undone. Grand Ebeck and Librettowit would help her. She couldn’t think of anyone other than Paladin to whom she could turn with this predicament. These two scholars, both men of wisdom, both compassionate and discerning, would rescue her. They’d know what to do about the mess this morning’s venture into the city had created.

Kale smiled at Librettowit. “We haven’t had a chance to give Toopka a bath and new clothes, but we will as soon as we get back to the dormitory. It’s a long story, but Magistrate Hyd put her into my charge, and I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do, but Dar is to help me. I don’t even know if the rules of The Hall allow us to have an orphan under our care. There’s probably a regulation against it, don’t you think? I’ve read more rules and edicts and orders of conduct than you can imagine, but I don’t think even one mentioned an orphan.”

She turned to High Chancellor Grand Ebeck. “I don’t want to cause any more problems, Your Grace, but under the circumstances, I can’t abandon her. I would appreciate your counsel.”

As she said the last bit of her speech, Kale realized it sounded almost as good as anything Dar would have come up with. He had said to let him do the talking, and she had really meant to do just that. But she hadn’t done so badly. The first part of what she said had rushed out and sounded a bit garbled. But the last part was fine. She had pulled herself together and made a decent plea.

High Chancellor Grand Ebeck put a hand on her shoulder. His eyes held no humor, only gentle patience. “It won’t be a problem, Leecent Kale. You will not be staying at The Hall.”

Her mouth dropped open. A large lump formed in her throat. She tried to swallow and come up with a protest. Her mind spun, but her lips would not move.

What have I done that’s so bad? I know I’m not a very good student. I could try harder. Is it because we went into the city? Is it Toopka? Or because I went in the wrong side of the inn?

Toopka’s small hand patted Kale’s back. Kale hugged her warm little body, comforted by the child’s sympathy.

“Oh my, oh my.” Grand Ebeck’s gravelly voice rumbled about her ears. “Do not be so distressed, little Kale. It is not due to your insufficiency, but rather your ability. You are needed. My dear friend Librettowit has come to fetch you at Wizard Fenworth’s request. The meech egg has hatched, and Fenworth can’t do a thing with it, or
him,
rather.”

The emerlindian glanced over at the librarian and gave him a wink, then he patted Kale’s arm and continued. “His name is Regidor. He is all that we would expect a meech dragon to be—intelligent, capable of speech, maturing rapidly, showing signs of great talent, and stubborn. Ah yes, irrefutably stubborn.”

Alarmed, Kale turned pleading eyes to Librettowit. “What am I supposed to do?”

He cleared his throat. “I, of course, will help you all I can, Kale. But I must admit that so far my attempts to reason with and guide Regidor have met with less than satisfactory results.”

Oh my, if Librettowit and Wizard Fenworth can’t handle this Regidor…
“Why me?”

“You carried the meech egg. It quickened because of your contact. During the time it incubated, your dragons guarded the egg. In short, Kale, Regidor is attached to you, not Fenworth. It is obvious to us now. You are the one who can befriend him. Indeed, affinity for you has already been accomplished, and most of his disruptive behavior can probably be accounted for by his need to have you at his side.”

A slight pressure from Grand Ebeck’s hand turned her to face him.

“Kale, you must go. Fenworth is old. This disturbance in his life is causing him to weaken. He is distraught.”

“Aggravated,” put in Librettowit.

High Chancellor Grand Ebeck took his hand from her shoulder. “Dealing with a stubborn meech has made Fenworth a bit disagreeable.”

The librarian clenched his fists. “Cantankerous, surly, crotchety, petulant, hot-tempered. Disagreeable? Ha! Impossible!”

Grand Ebeck regarded the fuming tumanhofer with sympathy.

“We will do what we can,” he assured him and turned back to Kale. “Our council judged Fenworth to be the best equipped to handle the meech dragon and the important role Regidor could play in Risto’s defeat. Perhaps we did not consider Fenworth’s advancing years as carefully as we should have.”

He looked out the window for a moment, his expression grave, his eyes sad. At long last, he sighed, then shook himself as if a shiver had gone up his spine.

“We will need the wizard and Regidor in the months to come,” he said. “A great evil is brewing in that nest of vipers under Risto’s command.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and solemnly looked into her eyes. “You will leave immediately. Accompany Librettowit back to The Bogs and lend what assistance you can.”

“Toopka?” she croaked.

“Toopka will go with you.”

“Dar?”

“He will remain here and finish his training to serve Paladin.”

“My training?”

“You will enter your apprenticeship to Fenworth. It is premature, but you were always meant to be a wizard. You will do well.”

She blinked. She could not think of one thing to say. She felt the two little dragons thrum with excitement under her cape. Toopka gave her neck a squeeze and giggled.

Grand Ebeck continued. “Librettowit will oversee your scholastic advancement.”

She nodded.

“And Bardon will accompany you. He will instruct you in the art of defense, which would have been part of your training here at The Hall. He will also report back to the dean of leecents, keeping him informed as to your progress.”

One word sprang up in Kale’s mind with a whippish hiss.
Snitch!