DragonQuest Page 11

  “Metta, stop!” she commanded. “Your songs are beautiful, but they are not helping.”

  The purple dragon let out a long trill. Kale tensed in anticipation. A singing dragon who felt unappreciated could sing arias that scraped across one’s nerves.

  Gymn flew to hover next to Metta. Kale interpreted the cooing noises Gymn made. The male dragon encouraged the ruffled Metta to put up with the insensitive o’rant.

  In mock anger, Kale put her hands on her hips and frowned at the two. “Don’t forget I hear everything you say.”

  Gymn poked the she-dragon with his wingtip. Metta giggled and did a sideways maneuver that unbalanced the green dragon enough for her to race off. He chirruped with glee and gave chase.

  Kale pushed the moonbeam cape off her shoulders so that it hung down her back in a narrow curtain. Trying to keep an eye on their quick, darting flight, she squinted in the brightness of the late morning sun. She sent a message that only Gymn would hear.

  Thank you, my little friend. Keep her happy and out of the way while I find this blue and purple, green and tan, edible delight for Sir Dar.

  With a sigh of relief, she resumed her search. She enjoyed walking among the colorful toadstools. Most were as high as her shoulder and had a leathery texture.

  Dar said the younger ones would be more suitable for cooking, and those would be closer to the forest edge, under the shadows of the tall trees.

  She made her way toward the woods but without any hurry. She had plenty of time since Dar would prepare the mushroom steaks for the evening meal. The colors and shapes of the growth around her enchanted her eyes. Even the rich, earthy smell pleased her.

  An unfamiliar feminine voice spoke with hushed urgency into her mind. “Kale. Kale, is that you?”

  Who’s speaking?

  “Over here, Kale, under the armagot tree. I dare not come out in the open. I’m not supposed to be here. Oh please, come to me, Kale. I can’t stand the waiting any longer.”

  The gentle voice pulled at Kale’s heart. She took a few steps closer to the towering trees and tripped over a smaller mushroom, breaking the cap off as she fell. She rolled to the side, dusted off the knees of her breeches, and picked up the large, bowl-like piece of mushroom. Dark brown folds of moist and tender substance clung to a smooth, dark blue shell mottled with a deep purple swirl. Kale stood with the prize in her hands.

  “Come to me.” A sharp note struck in the command. “Oh, forgive me for my impatience. It has been so long, and still they keep me from you. But I must see you. Kale, I must touch you, and then I can bear the few more days we must wait before we can be together.”

  Mother?

  “Here, Kale, come quickly. I must return before my absence is noted. There is danger.”

  The soft words soothed her doubts away. The urgent plea ran through her like a shiver of fear. She clutched the mushroom cap to her chest and hurried to the shade of the huge trees.

  A dark-haired woman stepped from the shadows to greet her. Her elegant white dress shimmered in the sun with the radiant softness of a pearl. Trimmed with royal blue cording, the formfitting bodice sparkled with silver threads. An embroidered high collar caressed the woman’s pale cheeks. Elaborate sleeves puffed slightly at the shoulder, then followed slender arms to a deep ruffle at the wrists. The full skirt rustled as the woman took a hasty step back into the shadows and beckoned Kale to hurry.

  Kale stopped in front of the lady. She wanted to throw her arms around her mother, but the absolute perfection of the person before her stifled the urge.

  Her thoughts churned, matching the turmoil in her heart. I am far too ill-bred for someone so refined as this woman.

  “No, never say so.” The woman touched her cheek with smooth, cool fingertips. Her gray eyes latched onto Kale’s. “I am Lyll Allerion. You were torn from my arms as a babe, but you are nothing less than a noble Allerion. You were born to greatness. Soon we will be together, and together we will follow that road of destiny.”

  Kale started to step forward, longing for her mother to embrace her. But the hand that had tenderly cradled her cheek lowered and braced against Kale’s shoulder.

  “No, I cannot hold you. You are soiled.”

  Kale jerked back as if slapped.

  Lyll Allerion tilted her head and laughed lightly. The gesture erased the momentary stern expression. “I must return to the palace, and I would be hard-pressed to explain smudges on my gown when I was supposed to have retired to my room for a moment of rest.”

  Kale silently agreed. She’d glimpsed wealthy women, richly dressed, in Vendela. None of them compared to her mother. Her heart squeezed, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she hastily rubbed them away with the back of her hand.

  “You’ve left streaks of mud across your cheeks.” Out of her sleeve, the elegant woman pulled an embroidered lawn handkerchief and pressed it into Kale’s grubby fist.

  Lyll’s fairylike laugh rang like winsome bells, and Kale’s humiliation increased. Carefully guarding her thoughts as Granny Noon had taught her, Kale fumed. She didn’t want this woman to hear her thinking.

  She’s afraid I’ll smudge her fingertips. Granny Noon wasn’t afraid of my dirt.

  Granny Noon invited hugs. She lived in a hole in the ground and wore homespun clothing. Granny Noon had trimmed Kale’s hair and provided food, clothing, and valuable tools for the quest. The old emerlindian had given a frightened o’rant girl assurance with her words of encouragement and sage advice. This woman had given Kale nothing.

  A smile lifted the woman’s lips. Her eyes shone with affection.

  Kale sighed. I can’t give my mother anything. She came looking for me. She wanted to see me. But I’m not much to look at, am I?

  She dropped her head and gazed at the tiny points of blue satin shoes peeking from under the hem of the skirt. Blue satin that hadn’t picked up the forest floor’s accumulation of decayed leaves. A hem that showed no signs of dust or dirt.

  “Kale.” A male voice boomed over the grove of mushrooms.

  Lyll stiffened.

  Again the loud call reached their ears. “Kale, where are you?”

  Kale looked up at her mother’s face. “It’s Bardon.”

  The woman aimed a cold glare of anger over her daughter’s shoulder.

  Kale shuddered.

  An irritated growl rumbled in her mother’s throat. “I know this boy.” The clipped words felt like pellets against Kale’s ears. “Keep him at a distance, Kale. He will interfere with our plans.”

  Kale whispered, “What plans?”

  The fiery gaze shifted to Kale’s face, and for a moment Kale withered under its blaze. Then the light under the trees shifted, and with the fickle shadows, Lyll’s expression changed. The tenderness flowing from her mother’s face was so different from the previous venom, Kale doubted she’d really seen hatred in the woman’s eyes.

  “Plans for our happiness, dear Kale. We’ve had our share of suffering, haven’t we? It’s time for our reward.”

  The woman gathered her skirts and turned away. She took a step into the darker shadows of the forest.

  “Tell no one you saw me, Kale. Paladin would be displeased with me for coming here.” Another step, and she was gone. Not just hidden by shadows, but gone. “Soon, dear Kale, soon.”

  “Oh good. You found it.”

  Kale whirled around to face Bardon.

  “Found it?”

  “The mushroom.” He pointed to the cap clamped under Kale’s arm. “Be careful not to damage it. Dar would just send you out for another.”

  Kale nodded.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Me?”

  Bardon scowled and looked around her into the trees. Kale stepped forward.

  “I’m fine.” She took hold of his arm and turned him toward the colorful grove of mushrooms.

  Bardon shook her hand off. “You didn’t sample any of this fungus, did you?”

  “Of
course not.” Kale gave him a push and started back the way they had come.

  “You’re acting strange, and you look kind of odd.”

  “I haven’t eaten any of the mushrooms, and therefore I am hungry. Very hungry. Let’s get back to the camp.”

  She trudged through the shoulder-high mushrooms, no longer admiring the wide variety of colors and shapes. To her annoyance, Bardon made two attempts at conversation.

  “The minor dragons came back without you,” he said.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Wizard Fenworth has been sleeping so much, Librettowit’s worried he’ll turn into a tree and not be able to turn back.”

  “Librettowit always frets about something,” she answered and then marched on.

  Her mother had said not to get close to Bardon. She wanted to talk to him, to talk about normal things, and avoid thinking about what had just happened. Her mother had said not to tell anyone. Kale wanted most to tell Dar and get his opinion of the episode.

  Her mother was beautiful, but that didn’t make Kale feel good. By comparison, she was a worm. Her mother’s eyes had filled with love. But they could also look cold. Her mother’s touch had brought feelings of longing and feelings of dread. Having a mother, having this mother, complicated her life with too many confusing emotions.

  Back at the camp, the minor dragons flew to greet her but veered off before they landed on her shoulders. They sat instead in a nearby rootup tree and made mournful noises like doves cooing before the rain. When Kale bit into the tasty meat pastry Dar served for noonmeal, the egg hanging in the pouch at her neck bumped and twisted. Her stomach felt the same jitters, and she put the food down unfinished.

  After noonmeal, she helped Dar with the dishes and then, alongside Leetu Bends, busily polished the major dragons’ scales. Celisse stretched out her neck, and the dragon’s deep contentment numbed some of Kale’s anxiety.

  “Are you all right?” asked her emerlindian friend.

  “Yes!” Kale moved to the other side of Celisse so she wouldn’t have to look at Leetu’s puzzled face. Kale concentrated on her dragon and tried to soak in the pleasure emanating from Celisse.

  “Kale.” Dar came toward her with the mushroom cap in his hands. He carried it with the brown side up and stopped just a few feet from her. “What color was the stalk of this plant?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Was it a creamy tan with green veins?”

  “I said, ‘I don’t remember.’”

  Dar shook his head and looked carefully at the cap. “I don’t think it could have been. This smells like a musk melon, and the mushroom I sent you for should smell more nutty.”

  She shrugged and went back to rubbing Celisse’s ebony scales. “Does it matter?”

  “One is edible, and another might not be.”

  She shrugged again and did not look her friend in the eye.

  Dar turned the mushroom cap over in his hands, examining it. “This is bruised, and there’s dirt in the folds of the underside.” He took a step closer to Kale. “What happened out there?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If I could mindspeak, this is one time I’d be tempted to invade your privacy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dar. Nothing happened.”

  Dar gave her a disgusted look and walked away.

  A chill ran down her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She cautiously looked around, wondering whether someone was watching her, whether someone who could listen in on her thoughts was doing so at that very moment.

  Leetu busily buffed a major dragon’s side with a polishing rag.

  Fenworth dozed under the shade of the other large dragon’s leathery wing. Kale looked more closely. In the tangle of vines and branches that would transform into beard and hair when the wizard awoke, an open eye stared out of a bark-encrusted face. One eye, open and staring. One eye, trained on her, unblinking and eerily focused. The eyelid closed, and Kale let out a breath she had not known she was holding. Fenworth was asleep. He didn’t know.

  19

  HIDDEN TALENTS

  Kale heard Dar and Bardon fencing long before she wanted to leave her bedroll. The questing party had been camped by the kimen falls for almost three weeks, and each dawn Dar and Bardon engaged in mock combat. She knew Leetu Bends and Lee Ark would soon step in to give instructions.

  At first, all of them had tried to get Kale to join in. They might try again today if they knew she was awake. She refused to open her eyes. Birds twittered in the branches of the rootup trees. She covered her head with the blanket.

  Metta and Gymn awoke within the folds of their pocket-dens. They squirmed toward the opening, disturbing Kale as they wiggled between her and the bedroll. They reached her clenched fists and butted their scaly heads against her fingers.

  I don’t want to get up, she told them sternly but loosened her grip so they could slither out. One of them stepped on her nose. Gymn. His tail slapped her cheek as he took off to find a better place to watch the mock battle.

  A weight landed on Kale’s side. Too big to be a minor dragon. Toopka.

  “Dar’s going to teach me to use a small sword right after Bardon beats him.”

  Kale threw back the covers. “What?”

  “Bardon always beats him. He’s had years more training.”

  “Not that. What did you say about fencing with a small sword?”

  “I’m not big enough to fence. Dar’s going to teach me how to duck and jab.”

  Kale propped herself up on an elbow and glared at the two warriors as they parried and thrust with practice swords, weapons made of wood but capable of leaving nasty bruises. “You’re too young to be doing any such thing.”

  Toopka’s eyebrows scrunched together in a serious frown. “We’re going on a quest,” she said. “It’s best to be prepared.”

  “You aren’t going on the dangerous part. You’ll stay here in the camp.”

  “Robbers could come.”

  “Not in Ordray,” said Kale. “The urohms and kimens run a tidy province. There is next to no crime.”

  “Next to no crime. That means there is some, and crime is likely to happen where innocent people are unprepared.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you.” Kale threw herself back down and jerked the blanket over her head.

  “Bardon says you should be honing your skills as a fighter.” Toopka waited for a response.

  Kale pressed her lips together.

  “Bardon asked you to spar with him. You really should. He might have to report to Grand Ebeck.”

  Kale pushed back the covers again and sat up, knocking Toopka off her perch. “What made you say that? Did you hear something?”

  Toopka gave an exaggerated shrug and purposefully studied the two young men.

  “Toopka.” Kale poked her furry arm.

  She sighed. “Wizard Fenworth says you’re mopey. Mopey o’rants don’t make a good princess.”

  “Apprentice.”

  “Librettowit says you are suffering emotional strain.”

  “And?”

  “Leetu Bends says you need a kick in the pants.”

  Kale rubbed the sleep from her eyes and studied Bardon and Dar as they circled each other. Dar swept in, attacking the taller man’s legs. Bardon leapt in the air and landed out of the doneel’s reach.

  Kale scowled. Where have I seen someone move like that? He wasn’t an o’rant. Not a marione either. At Lee Ark’s! Two emerlindians did a demonstration match.

  Kale stood and moved closer. She curled her toes against the chill of the dew-drenched grass. The moonbeam cape kept her body warm, but still she wrapped her arms around her torso.

  Lee Ark and Leetu also approached the impromptu training field from their tents. Even before they reached Kale’s side, Leetu cheered when Bardon lightly jumped over Dar’s low swung sword.

  “Dar, vary your approach,” ordered Lee Ark. “You’re too predictable.” />
  Fenworth strode over the rise and advanced upon the two practicing with swords. “Let’s see what Bardon does with a pole.”

  Kale had been among Paladin’s soldiers long enough to know that the emerlindians, not o’rants, were masters of the pole and longbow.

  Startled, both Dar and Bardon turned to the old wizard. Fenworth held a six-foot prime-pole in each hand. He extended one arm to offer a weapon to Bardon.

  Dar looked up with a grin on his face. “Do it, Lehman. I bet you’re good at it.”

  Bardon’s usual stoic mien relaxed. He clapped Dar on the shoulder, handed the doneel his sword, and took the weighty pole from the wizard.

  “What are they doing?” asked Toopka, clinging to the leg of Kale’s trousers.

  Kale put her hand on the soft fur between the little girl’s ears. “They are going to battle with prime-poles. If they had two shorter sticks, that would be lackey-canes. And shorter lackey-canes that have a strap attached to one end are called dodgerods or dodders.”

  “I want a dodder.”

  “They’re for fighting. They’re dangerous.”

  “I want to be dangerous.”

  Kale looked at the big brown eyes staring up at her. She clamped down a grin that would betray her amusement, but she couldn’t help teasing.

  “Should a bisonbeck warrior ever catch sight of you with a weapon in your hand, he’d turn tail and run for the hills, howling all the way.”

  Toopka’s expressive eyes widened for a fraction of a second and then narrowed. “Harrumph.” She turned back to watch Bardon and Fenworth readying.

  The tyke sounded so much like old Wizard Fenworth that those standing close enough to hear burst into laughter. Toopka put her hands on her hips and stomped a foot.

  Lee Ark, who had many children at home, swooped the tiny doneel up into the air and settled her on his shoulder.

  “Watch, little one,” he said. “The men are wrapping soft leather around the knuckles of each hand. That’s to protect against blows.”

  “Will Bardon beat the wizard? Bardon always beats Dar.”

  Lee Ark tilted his head to look up at her. “He’s never beaten me.”