Dragons of the Watch Page 15

  “It was wrong,” said Ellie. Her voice amazed her. She didn’t sound angry. She was angry, wasn’t she?

  He nodded vigorously. “You’re right. It was wrong. But it wasn’t.” His speaking came to a halt. After a few seconds he started again. This time with more of the confidence she enjoyed hearing in his every bit of conversation.

  “It is wrong because it is an invasion of privacy. But it is not wrong, in this case, because we’re supposed to learn something from this. We are supposed to step up to a new level in our relationship.”

  “Relationship?”

  “No longer strangers who met in a bottle city. No longer co-workers, surviving and gathering information to allow us to escape. No longer just friends who enjoy each other’s company.”

  Ellie merely gazed at him, not sure what to expect.

  “I didn’t intentionally listen in on your thoughts. I don’t want you to be angry with me for something that came so naturally. I didn’t even notice the oddity until it was over. Let’s be patient, Ellie. I think we are going to have an unusual relationship, something powerful and astonishing. Something Wulder has ordained.”

  He picked up her two hands in his. “Can you forgive the trespass?”

  Speechless, she nodded.

  He dropped her hands and pulled her into a hug. “And the first thing we are going to do together as something stronger than a team is gain Old One’s confidence with tea and daggarts. Then we will tame the wild ones.” He paused. “That may take more than daggarts.”

  She started laughing.

  “It’s going to be all right, Ellie.”

  She nodded and giggled and leaned into his embrace.

  They resumed their journey, but the wound and the healing took its toll on Ellicinderpart’s stamina. After two hours of steady walking, she staggered and almost fell. Her hand on the side of the cart kept her upright. “I’ve got to stop and rest, Bealomondore. I’m accustomed to hiking, but not while talking nonstop.”

  “There’s a shady spot ahead.”

  Beneath a huge spinet tree, they paused for a break, and Bealomondore tucked Tilly’s diary into the cart.

  Ellie sat in the cool grass. Bealomondore checked the harness on Tak to make sure the unusual device wasn’t wearing on his hide. He then went to sit beside his lady tumanhofer.

  She picked a small purple wildflower and sniffed it, then offered it to Bealomondore. “I’ve never talked like that to anyone.”

  He took it and threaded the stem through the buttonhole on his lapel. “Do you mean for that length of time?”

  “No. I guess I mean the content. I’ve never had a friend to share ideas with. Big ideas. Most conversations seem to be about crops, recipes, and what’s come in at the mercantile.”

  “Ah, in the circle I came from there were two distinct groups. In one, it was considered notable to be able to debate the issues of the time. In the other, esteem was lauded on those who were fluent in speaking of art, fashion, and the current tastes of society.”

  “You listen to me.”

  “Of course I listen to you.”

  “There’s no ‘of course’ about it.”

  He poked her in the side. “How do you know I am really listening?”

  “Because you answer with practical ideas about the matters I’ve brought up.”

  “So tell me, dear lady. Do you agree with me to keep the peace?”

  “No, we agree on most things. I am rather intent on gathering bits of a more sophisticated viewpoint. If I make it to the coronation ball, I do not want to act like a country bumpkin.”

  “I think your books have taken care of that.”

  “Then I’m grateful to Gramps for insisting that we learn to read. Gramps listens to me at home.”

  “So you do have someone to talk to.”

  She pointed to the goat nibbling on a bush. “Tak and Gramps. Tak stays awake longer.”

  The breeze shook the leaves of the tree. Both tumanhofers leaned back and enjoyed the beautiful day. They talked about the different cultures within Chiril. She regretted the intellectual loss to children when country tumanhofers did not educate their children except in animal lore, farming, wild plants and their uses, and homespun skills. Bealomondore agreed and championed expanding the arts among all strata of Chiril.

  Bealomondore rose. “We’d best move on. Are you rested enough?”

  She took his extended hand. “Yes.” She went to Tak’s head and stroked his favorite spot between his ears. “How about you, friend? Ready to go?”

  “Maa.”

  Their conversation restarted as they walked. Bealomondore had many ideas for the development of Chiril under Paladin and Queen Tipper. He would propose more communication between different slices of their culture. The countryfolk could teach the city dwellers a lot about homemade instruments and lively dance music. Society from the upper ranks could introduce complicated instruments and printed music. Ellie thought his ideas to be grand and practical.

  “It’s like us, Bealomondore.” She shoved an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “You have so much knowledge of the world that I want to learn. And I could show you tiny bits of beauty in the countryside that most people walk right past. Some of the things the animals do are beyond fascinating. Watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis is too wonderful to explain.”

  Bealomondore put his hand on Tak’s harness and tugged to bring the goat to a stop. He stood looking up at the buildings.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ellie.

  “We must have been walking faster than we needed to. We’ve reached the center of town too early.”

  “Too …” A chill went up Ellie’s spine. “Oh.”

  “The callous masses have not tucked themselves into their beds for the night.”

  “Perhaps we should seek a nice place to hole up while we wait for dark.”

  Bealomondore’s mind was obviously elsewhere. He turned a complete circle, studying the street and structures on it. “I’m not familiar with this part of Rumbard. We’ll have to look for an entrance to one of these buildings.”

  He scanned the windows up and down both sides of the street. “This would be a convenient time for the dragons of the watch to come by. We could ask them to scout.”

  Ellie searched the shadows. Did some of the children lurk nearby, ready to pounce?

  Bealomondore went to the goat’s head and spoke quietly. “This way, Tak.”

  Ellie followed them into an alley. Since they’d quit talking, even the breeze seemed to have stilled. In this late afternoon, the birds were scarce in the center of Rumbard. Ellie wanted to know why. She missed the flap of a bird’s wing or a trilling chirp. A bird’s tweet while fluttering in a dust bath would have eased the tension.

  She heard the bells on Tak’s harness and nothing else.

  “Bealomondore,” she whispered.

  He turned his head her way. She made a ringing motion with her hand and mouthed the word, “Bells.”

  “Hold up, Tak,” he said and began to search his pockets. He pulled out a slender blue object, unfolded a blade from the side, and cut through the leather cords holding the bells. Ellie held each bell taut so the knife would sever the ties easily. She also kept her hand wrapped snugly against the metal to lessen the jingles.

  “Where should I put them?” she whispered.

  “On the pavement. Put them down gently, and make sure they aren’t going to roll.”

  She followed his directions with one hand while she held the next bell with the other. When she straightened, she thought she saw motion out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. Nothing in sight. She put another bell down and surreptitiously glanced toward the place where movement had been.

  When she stood up, she whispered, “I can’t shake the feeling that we are being watched.”

  Bealomondore continued working. Only three bells left on that side. “Could be nerves. At night, after a battle, I always felt a
s if someone skulked just outside the perimeter of the camp.”

  She put another bell on the street. Now she had a line of them following a crack.

  Bealomondore worked on the next cord. “Your nerves are in a heightened state. Fear does that, and in most cases it’s a wonderful thing. As an extra alert soldier, you might save your life and the lives of your friends.”

  “Did you save many lives in the war?”

  “Oh yes.” He moved to the last bell on that side. “And my life was saved many times by the soldiers around me.” He paused and looked into her face. “Ellie, the war is something I don’t like to talk about. I’d rather certain memories did not surface, and the only way I can keep that from happening is to look the other direction. Instead of back, I try to look forward, to keep my mind settled on the future. It’s been hard.”

  He switched sides, giving Tak’s forehead a rub as he passed in front of the goat. Ellie held the next bell, and he sawed at the thong.

  “The reason it’s been so hard,” he continued, “is that I couldn’t latch on to what I wanted that future to be.”

  “And now you have?”

  “I think the choice is being sorted out. I only need to be a little more patient.”

  “What are your choices?”

  “I could continue on in the service of my queen and Paladin. I could return to Greeston and go into the family business. My father would be amazed at that. And the ironic thing is that now that he is willing to let me be who I am and do the things I think are important, I’m actually considering the Bealomondore Mines as a reasonable choice.”

  “You said you have a brother who enjoys business.”

  “Yes, but he is a little cold-hearted, like my father. Neither of them considers the hardships of the workers. And he took an extended holiday during the war. Last I heard, he had not returned.”

  “What about your portrait painting?”

  “Now that is an attractive notion. Portraits are my least favorite type of art to create. But it pays well. It would be nice to be independently situated so I could delve into all the expression of my craft without worrying about what to eat. And to have the money to buy supplies. That’s been a problem from time to time in the past.” He stood and looked in her eyes. “So you see I am a man without a destination, and that is not a good thing to be.”

  He tilted his head and smiled in such a way that she lost her train of thought. She’d never met anyone who had so many openings before him. Most were farmers or merchants and would remain farmers and merchants.

  “So what is your destination, Ellie?”

  She blinked hard. Did he mean the library? They were trying to get to the library, weren’t they? No, he didn’t mean right now. He meant outside of today, the bottle city, and their present predicament.

  “Ragar.” She knew her answer was a little short of his meaning, but that was where she had her heart set on going, and afterward, she would probably end up in the village, looking for a husband. Somehow that sounded pathetic, and she didn’t want to see a look of pity in his eye.

  Did she deliberately avoid his question? Probably not. Ellie did not know how to dissemble. Before turning his attention to the last row of bells, Bealomondore made a quick survey of their surroundings. Often the hushed streets of Rumbard City emphasized the isolation of their dilemma. Whoever heard of a city of this size—meaning the ability to accommodate many residents, not the size of the structures—being so eerily quiet?

  He sliced through the leather cords quickly. He too felt as if eyes behind the dark windows tracked their every motion.

  “Shall we go?” he asked his companion.

  “Maa!”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you, Tak, but yes, you must come as well. I think we’re close to the center of town. In a few blocks, we may be able to hear the water splashing in the fountain.”

  Just as he patted Tak on the rump, a war whoop pierced the air, followed by the tromping of dozens of little feet on the road.

  “Run!” he commanded Ellie and drew his sword.

  Tak spontaneously jumped into action, tearing down the street, away from the screaming pack of wild animals Ellie called children. The basket of eggs tipped onto its side. Eggs rolled out, bumping down the hill of daggarts. Some bounced out of the cart, and some became wedged in tight spots.

  Bealomondore turned away from the sight. It seemed the hellions poured from every building. “Run, Ellie! Get to the library.”

  “Don’t you hurt them with that sword, Bealomondore.” Her voice sounded too near. Hadn’t he said to run?

  “Go, Ellie. I’m not going to hurt them, just scare them. I can’t keep that promise if you’re in the way.”

  He felt rather than heard her retreat. Their bond was proving useful. He had just enough time to glance at the Sword of Valor in his hand. One of the sword’s peculiarities was that it changed its shape according to the needs of the battle. A shorter, thicker blade now reflected the setting sun. He would have liked to read the inscription on the hilt. Perhaps he could get a clue about this battle, some advice from Wizard Fenworth.

  A big bully ran right up to Bealomondore and reached forward as if to tackle him. The tumanhofer ducked, spun, and landed a sharp blow with the flat side of his sword against the child’s rear end. It sounded like the impact of a paddle stick. The ageless, intrepid warrior howled, much as Bealomondore and his brother had when receiving correction from their father.

  “We can take ’im!” A lad led a charge of four more boys. Bealomondore whacked arms, legs, backsides, and stomachs, all with the flat of his blade. He doubted the showy sword would even cut in its present state. The thought gave him comfort. He really did not want to injure any of these children, especially now. A band of girls set upon him. He battled the nasty mob until they ran on.

  He sighed his relief and then realized that these hoodlums were chasing Tak and Ellie. He pursued them. The children ran after the cart and stopped to pick up packages of daggarts. One would snatch a fallen treasure, and several would surround the lucky one. Perhaps lucky did not describe accurately what happened. A weaker child had everything jerked from her hands. Stronger ones had to share in order not to be tackled by all those who surrounded her.

  Bealomondore jogged past numerous children who had given up the chase to have their first taste of daggarts. He stopped to pick up the diaries that littered the street. Every now and then he passed a smashed raw egg. Evidently Tak pulled the cart at great speed. At every turn, the objects in the cart’s bed had bounced out. Ellie would be disappointed.

  He recognized the streets around him now. Only a block or two to the library. He sheathed his sword. The children did not like being this close to Old One. Old One! Oh, Wulder, Bealomondore prayed, let there be enough daggarts left to have tea with the old man.

  As he turned a corner, he looked up, and there on the third floor of the library, the window framed a white-bearded urohm. Bealomondore could not see the man clearly, but from his stance, he guessed Old One was angry.

  Bealomondore met Ellie at the back of the library. She had unloaded the remaining diaries and a few packets of daggarts. Now she concentrated on loosening the harness from Tak’s back and shoulders.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You?”

  “I’m fine.” He showed her the diaries he’d rescued and put them down on the walkway. Then he helped lift the leather straps and hung them over a fence that ran next to the building. “I’m sorry about the eggs and the daggarts.”

  “Did you hurt any of those children?”

  “I dusted the britches of several. And protected myself from each one that attacked. None are maimed.”

  She turned away to rub her fingers through Tak’s hair, flattened by the harness. “I’ve been thinking. The plan isn’t ruined. We need to adjust a bit. That’s all.”

  She went to the gate of the library park and let Tak in.

  “So what’s the revised plan?�
�

  “This might even work better than the original plan.”

  The vent squeaked when Bealomondore opened their hidden entry. He stood aside for her to go through first. “Well? Tell me. I’m curious.” He gathered up the diaries and passed them in to her.

  She took them and made a neat stack as she talked. “Now that the children know what daggarts taste like, they should be eager to please us and be rewarded with more of the same treat.”

  Next Bealomondore handed over the daggarts, one package at a time. Out of ten dozen-count bundles, only four packets remained. He dreaded the trip to make more. Couldn’t they just abandon the effort to win the children and give these to Old One?

  He crawled through the opening. No, he had to be truthful and admit that the daggarts had potential. “The ruffians were absorbed in gobbling them up as I passed. None of them put the daggarts down to chase me. Obviously your baking is a big hit.”

  She sighed and looked woefully at the remaining packages. Without a word, Bealomondore helped her carry them to the rotunda. He nearly dropped his load when a loud voice thundered from above.

  “I’ll have a word with you.”

  Ellie regained her composure before he did. She whirled around and dropped a perfect curtsy toward the balcony.

  “We’d be honored if you’d join us for tea, sir. We do have daggarts now.”

  “Humph! I knew that. You sat there planning to go off and bake. You leave and come back with packages. Any fool could figure out you have daggarts. But that’s not why I command your audience.”

  Bealomondore searched the shadows of the upper story and finally spotted a shadow that moved.

  Ellie bobbed a simpler curtsy. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  After putting her armload of diaries down on one of the tables, she ran off toward the children’s section.

  Bealomondore set his burden on the same table and bowed to the old man in the balcony.

  “Will you be coming down, sir?”

  “Yes, yes,” he grumbled. “Might as well get started. It takes a while.”