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  “You think I’m making too much of it, and I think you are taking this situation too lightly.”

  “I promise to keep an open mind and watch her diligently.” Sir Dar performed a court bow, complete with the removal of his hat and the sweep of his arm in front of him. “Will that make you more at ease?”

  “Having Paladin here and in the mood to answer questions would put me in a better frame of mind.”

  “Now, you know asking Paladin to tell you what is going to happen tomorrow, or at any time in the future, is futile.”

  “I know. He gives those vague answers.”

  Sir Dar lowered his voice. “All will blend together into a pattern of great beauty.”

  Kale copied the authoritative tone. “You will be astonished by the end. We shall see magnificent glory with our own eyes.”

  “The ultimate plan is to bring you home.” Sir Dar’s eyes shone with contentment. The underlying mischief had flown.

  Kale didn’t continue the game. “Do you believe it all, Sir Dar?”

  “Every word.”

  27

  A TRAVELER’S WARNING

  The questers marched toward the small trade route village from the southern road. The two children still perched on Brunstetter’s shoulders. Kale and Bardon walked on one side of the urohm, and Sir Dar hurried along on the other. The minor dragons had been tucked away in the moonbeam cape. Regidor and Gilda followed, disguised as a wealthy emerlindian couple.

  Emerlindians in North Amara were tall. The shadows from Gilda’s veils and Regidor’s broad-brimmed hat created the dark countenance required. The meech dragons’ clothing hid their wings, and the style suggested the couple were city people rather than citizens who preferred the hills and forest. Regidor had devised an illusion to complete their disguise. The bulges that concealed their tails and wings looked more like fashion excesses. He minimized their height so that when a stranger spoke to them, he looked at their chests as if he looked them in the eye. This trick made Regidor chuckle and Gilda indignant. Only another wizard would be able to detect their true image.

  Lee Ark brought up the rear. Kale and Gilda had found enough clothing in their hollows to make him look like a servant instead of a general in Paladin’s service. However, the soldier just could not remember to slump and shuffle. At the edge of town he picked up a walking stick and leaned on it. That obscured his military posture to some degree.

  Bardon noticed the difference between the lane they had just traversed and the highway running east and west. The way they’d come had been little more than a rutted path. The wider crossroad showed signs of much travel, and more importantly, some upkeep. Traffic had ground the fine gravel covering the public road into hard-packed dirt. More tiny rough stones had been spread in the ruts.

  Instead of a square, the town center of Arreach formed a circle. Four stone walkways criss-crossed lush green grass so that shoppers could walk the diagonal instead of the lengthy circumference of the lawn. Cobblestone or brick paved the main roads.

  Thick clay plastered the wooden structures, and each storefront boasted a different bright hue. Fresh paint indicated that the village prospered. In spite of the harsh winters, this place would be cheerful. Music rang out from several different sources. Contrary to the friendly atmosphere, the villagers greeted them with wary glances.

  “Why the suspicion?” asked Brunstetter.

  “These people see the same travelers over and over again,” answered Sir Dar. “The east-west trade route is popular.”

  Bardon grunted. “And we are carrying no goods to trade.”

  “We shall have to win them over with charm,” said Toopka from Brunstetter’s shoulder.

  Kale sent her a warning glance. “You let the official diplomat take care of charming the locals.”

  Gilda nodded toward an establishment with a sign stating it was the Halfway Pint. “There’s the place we want.” She made a beeline for the tavern, passing the others in the party. “Sleeping without the cacophony of night insects. Eating bread made in an oven—surely this is the ultimate indicator of civilization.”

  The rest of the questers followed her imperious figure like courtiers following the queen. She swept through the inn’s entryway and took a seat in the dim receiving area. Bardon and Regidor crossed the threshold a moment later. Bardon went to the desk where an o’rant gawked at the invasion of his establishment.

  “We require four rooms.”

  The innkeeper looked over the party, swallowed, and asked, “How long will ye be staying?”

  “Just tonight.”

  “You don’t have any baggage?”

  “Not much.”

  The man squinted as he examined the small crowd in his lounge. Toopka and Sittiponder climbed down off their mountain of a ride and stamped their feet as if urging the circulation to return. Quickly, their noise fell into a game with the doneel clomping a pattern and the tumanhofer repeating it.

  The landlord’s face relaxed as he watched the children’s shenanigans.

  “We don’t have anything fancy,” he said, “but our rooms are clean.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “If your journey takes you west, you ought to wait a day or two till another group comes through. Travelers been having a bit of trouble in the mountains with grawligs. Better to go in a large company.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  The man behind the counter pushed four keys toward Bardon. “You can eat with us at six, or go down the street to the Keg of Mallow. They serve all evening.”

  “Thank you again.” Bardon picked up the keys. “Do you know anyone who is familiar with the Northern Reach?”

  He shook his head. “No one goes there. Nothing to bring back to sell or trade.”

  “Fine.” Bardon turned to the others and signaled for them to follow.

  As they started up the stairs, the o’rant called to Bardon. “Come to think of it, there’s an old retired schoolteacher who used to say he’d gone north. I can direct you to his house.”

  “We’ll take you up on that, Master…”

  “Bandy.”

  “Master Bandy.” Bardon nodded. “I’ll be back for the directions as soon as I get my people settled.”

  At the top of the stairs, they sorted out the rooms. Only one would suit for the urohm, so he and the little ones took the room farthest down the hall. Sir Dar and Lee Ark had the room across from the biggest, and the married couples each had a chamber several doors away from the end. In order to have a meeting, they all crammed into Brunstetter’s room.

  “I want to go see the schoolteacher,” demanded Toopka.

  “No,” said Gilda. “You would interfere.”

  The girl put her hands on her hips and glared at the meech lady. “Are you going?”

  “No.” Gilda sat in a large chair. She removed her hat and veils. The additional disguise contrived by wizardry slipped. Her strong meech dragon features revealed fatigue. “I have no wish to visit the hovel of a retired tutor.”

  Toopka tapped her foot, her hands still planted as balled fists on her waist. Kale caught the girl’s eye. She shook her head slightly at the ornery doneel.

  Bardon grinned at the expression on the face of his wife’s ward. Kale must have delivered quite a lecture mindspoken with that minuscule shake. His wife’s curls had hardly bounced, but the doneel looked chagrined.

  Toopka curtsied. “Excuse me for my impertinence, Lady Gilda.”

  Gilda gave an imperial nod. Irritation boiled in Bardon’s veins. He gladly turned his attention to her husband as he took control of the conversation.

  Regidor patted his wife on the shoulder. “I shall go visit the schoolteacher, and perhaps Bardon and Lee Ark will join me.” He transferred his gaze. “Sir Dar and Brunstetter, if you would visit the places where people congregate in this town? You might glean information from the citizens.”

  Both men nodded, accepting their assignment.

  Regidor smiled at Kale. “And if you,
my dear Dragon Keeper, would mingle with the ladies shopping in the various establishments catering to women?”

  Kale agreed.

  “We can help,” exclaimed Toopka, grabbing Sittiponder by the arm. “Don’t make us sit in the tavern. Pleeeeease!”

  Regidor grimaced at the high-pitched plea. He shook his head as if to get rid of an echo. “I wouldn’t think of it, dear one. You shall roam the streets and find out so much information, we shall be astonished.”

  Only Gilda remained at the inn. In front of the tavern, Bardon kissed his wife good-bye and told Toopka to mind Sittiponder. Toopka stuck her tongue out at her blind tumanhofer friend. Bardon hooted as he watched the surprise on her face. She always forgot that her rude gestures would not cause the expected reaction from him. She fixed a fierce glare upon Bardon for laughing at her and aimed her tongue at him instead. He thwarted any satisfaction she might get by merely turning away.

  As they went their separate ways, Bardon matched his pace to the steady stride of Lee Ark and Regidor. He contained his eagerness to hear what this schoolteacher had to say. His companions marched toward their goal without revealing what they might expect from this person.

  Each side street left the center of town like a spoke in a wheel. In the dusky light of early evening, the red and white signs naming the lanes stood out under globes of golden radiance. Regidor, Lee Ark, and Bardon turned down the street marked Oben Way, strolled a couple of blocks, and stopped at a house that had a blue door and mumfers, with their crimson blossoms bobbing on tall stalks, lining the walk.

  Regidor stepped back, leaving Lee Ark to knock. Footsteps sounded within, and the door creaked open at the hand of a young tumanhofer.

  “Come in,” he said, standing back. “We’ve been expecting you. Master Bandy sent word you wanted to talk to Grandda. It’s a good thing you’ve come early. Grandda goes to bed right soon after the sun does.”

  The tumanhofer gestured toward the sitting area of the small cottage. An elderly man sat by the fire with a shawl over his shoulders and a blanket over his legs. He had a pipe between his teeth, but no smoke curled from the bowl. An old woman sat in a rocker, knitting. A younger woman nodded from the kitchen as she tidied after the evening meal. A man sat in a chair with his suit jacket draped over the back. He rose and extended his hand.

  “Welcome. It’s a rare treat for Da to have someone come to visit. Most of the villagers are tired of his tales. It’ll please him to tell you of his adventures. But you’ll have to speak up for him to hear, and he can’t see more than shapes now.”

  He crossed to the elder gentleman and rested his hand on a shoulder covered with wool cloth. “Da, these people have come to ask about your travels in the Northern Reach. Will you give them the time of day, or no?”

  The multitude of wrinkles on the man’s face shifted into a smile. His wide grin flashed surprisingly good teeth for such an old fellow. He raised his hand, and Lee Ark stepped forward to shake it. He introduced himself. Bardon followed, but Regidor took up a stance in the shadows. The old man tilted his head as if he expected a third handshake but quickly shrugged and motioned for the two to sit.

  “My name’s Woodkimkalajoss. Do you need a drink, or pie, perhaps? My daughter-in-law makes the best razterberry pie. We had some tonight, and she usually makes two and hides one.” He chuckled and winked in the general direction of the younger woman. “We’ll persuade her to bring out the one she’s got hidden.”

  Bardon looked at the red-cheeked matron in the kitchen area. She nodded.

  Bardon spoke loud enough for the elderly man to hear. “We would much appreciate the pie, Master Woodkimkalajoss. We haven’t had our dinner yet, and a delicious bite of pastry will tide us over nicely.”

  The tumanhofer raised his hand and let it fall on his knee. Bardon took the gesture to be a feeble attempt at enthusiasm. “Got that, sweet girl? Your delicious pastry will be appreciated. Bring out the razterberry and serve it up. I’ll have another piece, too, sweet girl. And I bet that growing boy wants another.”

  The young man who answered the door laughed as he got up. “I’ll help you, Ma.”

  With big mugs of strong, hot tea, and plates full of pie, the guests were too busy to ask questions. But Woodkimkalajoss didn’t need any prompting. As he ate, he told his tale of breaking tradition and wandering the lands above the border for years before he settled down and took the position of schoolteacher from his own father.

  The room darkened, and no one in the family moved to light the candles. Only the flickering flames from the fireplace cast an orange glow into the room. The mother unobtrusively gathered the empty dishes. The son left, quietly slipping out the front door. The older woman’s hands gradually stilled, her head leaned back, and a soft snore rumbled an uncanny backdrop to her husband’s words.

  He spoke of fierce wild animals, stunning landscapes, occasional scrapes involving both the high and low races, searching for riches, finding satisfaction in simple things, and coming home ready to be content with life in a small town on a trade route.

  When the old man’s eyes drifted shut and his raspy voice softened to a whisper, Bardon asked, “Did you ever run into a meech dragon in the Northern Reach?”

  His eyelids snapped open, and his clouded eyes searched the room. “Aye, I did. And I know you’ve brought one into my home.”

  The son and his wife sat up and looked at the man who had remained in the shadows.

  “No offense to you, sir,” said Woodkimkalajoss. “I can smell you. Meech have a different odor, not unpleasant, but different. I lived in their colony for more than a year.”

  This time, Regidor straightened in surprise.

  The old man nodded. “I’d fallen and would have died, but they brought me in.”

  Regidor spoke from the shadows. “Can you tell us where to find this colony?”

  “You don’t want to go there.”

  Regidor stepped forward. “But I do. I want to find my people.”

  “They’re busy. Best leave ’em alone.” Woodkimkalajoss closed his eyes as if to shut off the discussion.

  “Busy doing what?” Regidor persisted.

  “It’s a secret. Just like where they’re living is a secret.”

  “I am one of them.” Regidor coated his words with honey. “I am destined to help in whatever is their task.”

  “Guess not, if you don’t know where they are.”

  A commotion from down the street caught Bardon’s attention. He stood. Lee Ark stood as well, and the man of the house crossed to open the door. The noise came from the center of town and approached them. Bardon recognized Toopka’s shrill voice raised in alarm. “Get out! Get out! Sittiponder says get out of your homes. Stand in the open.”

  Her words and ones with a similar message echoed from the streets on either side of Oben Way.

  How did she manage to raise such a ruckus? Why are these people believing her?

  The urgency in the voices propelled Bardon to pick up the old woman and head for the door. Regidor lifted Woodkimkalajoss, chair and all. He gestured with his head for the man and woman to leave before him. In the center of the street, their neighbors stood. Some of the children and women cried, the men looked puzzled, and no one offered any explanation for why they had responded to a child’s summons.

  The commands to get out of the buildings subsided. In the distance, Toopka’s voice could still be heard, and then that, too, became silent.

  For a second, the only sound to reach Bardon’s ears was the quiet whimpering from among the small crowd in the street. Then dogs began to bark. Several cats bolted through the streets, screeching off-key.

  Bardon’s toes tingled, and he realized the ground beneath him vibrated. A woman wailed. A loud crack reverberated from the outskirts of the village. Bardon turned to look in that direction just as the lane buckled. The road rose and fell like a wave on the ocean. Some citizens landed hard on their knees or backs. Children cried. Another undulation tossed everyone off the
ir feet. They crashed down on the broken bricks of the street.

  The buildings crumpled, some collapsing in on themselves, others rising up and falling over on the next house. The sound of wooden beams breaking in two, clay crashing as it crumbled, and glass shattering filled the air.

  Bardon struggled to keep the old woman in his arms. Her son came to help. He took hold of her from the other side, but the next quake tore him away. Regidor yelled, “Lie down. Quit trying to get up.”

  The ground shook, then tremored, and then sighed with one last slow movement up and down.

  Dust filled the air. People coughed and wheezed. No one spoke at first, then whispers of, “Are you all right?” were barely heard, and finally louder calls rang out as people tried to locate their loved ones—shouts that accompanied their efforts to stand amid the rubble.

  Bardon heard the old man’s thready voice. “Did I tell you about the time…”

  He wouldn’t stay to hear this tale. He needed to find Kale.

  He tenderly placed the old woman in her son’s arms and turned to go. A fit of coughing seized him. The soiled air obstructed his air passages, and he fought to clear them. When the spasm subsided, he drew air in cautiously through his nose. A whiff of something set his nerves on edge.

  The first cry frantically rent the air, but panic obscured the word. The second shout came loud and clear.

  “Fire!”

  28

  SHAKEN

  Kale knelt beside a small o’rant boy with a broken arm. She concentrated to block the child’s pain as she and Gymn set the bone gently back into place and began the healing process. Gymn was the only minor dragon she had allowed out of her cape so far. The villagers were shaken enough without having to cope with the unusual sight of nine dragons.

  Smoke swirled above their heads. Kale vaguely noted how quietly the people went about moving the weak and injured out of harm’s way.

  “Are you done yet?” Gilda’s plaintive voice pierced Kale’s absorption in her task.

  “Not quite.”

  Gilda coughed. “I’m going to the outskirts of town. To the west. The smoke is drifting the other direction.”