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  Dibl perched on Bardon’s shoulder, and Metta flew above Kale. Briefly, Kale gave thought to the egg in the pouch around her neck. And then she remembered the four eggs still kept in the pockets of the moonbeam cape. She shoved aside the thought of eight dragons flying around her head sometime in the future and trudged after Bardon toward a decidedly dangerous present.

  Slick mud covered the remnants of a cobblestone pavement. Where lamplight shone through dirty windows, a pale square of light glistened, reflecting in the puddles.

  The rain began to pelt them with greater intensity. Both Metta and Dibl took refuge in the cape. They passed under a streetlamp, and Kale saw a trickle of red water running down the back of Bardon’s neck from the blood in his hair.

  The cape kept her comfortably warm, but she worried about Bardon. She knew better than to say anything. Even if he realized he would be better off with a cloak, a cloak was not available.

  The rain poured as they reached the lane where The Horn faced the docks. No one lingered out in the torrent. Kale shifted the sweep of her gaze. She looked up and down the street, particularly in the shadows, for would-be attackers. Then she surveyed the mucky street for the lost sword. She used her talent to explore the area, hoping to detect any adversaries. But the buildings housed dozens of villains. She could not identify any who had malice in their hearts aimed at her and her comrades.

  Bardon!

  “What?”

  I just realized something.

  “You can’t pick up on Dar’s whereabouts.”

  She nodded in agreement, even though she doubted Bardon could see her in the dark, rain-laden street. He would know her concern even without seeing her.

  And Regidor.

  “He’s disappeared as well.”

  Concentrate, Bardon. We should be able to find them.

  A moment of silence followed.

  Both Bardon and Kale began to run as a glimmer of Regidor’s presence pierced the fog of evil shrouding their surroundings. Past two empty docks and three with swaying black hulks of ships, the two raced toward the strengthening beacon. They slowed as the sixth dock came into view. A ship bobbed in the water beside a landing pier. Large crates lined the plank walkway, stacked in uneven rows. Lights flickered from the portholes in the side of the foreign vessel.

  Kale and Bardon joined Regidor in the shadows between two warehouses. Regidor mindspoke to them both.

  “Dar’s aboard that ship.”

  Bardon identified the type of vessel. “Frigate, a high-speed, medium-sized, sailing war vessel. Too bad we can’t see the flag. But I do know it’s from the Northern Reach.”

  Kale surveyed the ship. I don’t feel Dar’s presence. In fact, I don’t detect any occupants.

  Regidor nodded. “There’s some kind of shield surrounding it, blocking our perception. I wonder if we could figure out how to do that. We must try.”

  Bardon glanced over at the meech. Kale knew his sentiments matched her own. It wasn’t the right time to indulge Regidor’s curiosity over the way things worked.

  Bardon gave a half grin to Kale and spoke to Regidor.

  “Yes, my meech friend. But not now. Now we must figure out how to rescue Sir Dar.”

  36

  FINDING DAR

  At the foot of the gangplank, a sailor sat on a barrel. Another stood guard at the top. The heavy rain must have driven all hands below. The same rain aided Regidor, Bardon, and Kale in their stealthy approach. The three conspirators hid behind a huge crate not more than six feet from the shivering sailor.

  “He’s about your size, Kale,” Bardon mindspoke to both.

  Regidor scowled at the lehman. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Bardon is going to knock the man out, Kale answered. I’ll put on his coat and sit in his position, so anyone on board will think the man is still on duty.

  “And you know this because you and Bardon think together.” Regidor tilted his head. “I really want to know why that is. I haven’t found a thing in the books about such a phenomenon. But I haven’t finished researching.”

  The sailor huddled miserably in a large coat, with the collar pulled up around his neck and an oilcloth hat pulled down over his head.

  “And what do we do with the man at the top of the gangplank?” asked the meech.

  Bardon pointed to the more alert guard. “Go into his mind, Regidor. Distract him with images he can’t resist. Right now I would assume that would be a cozy chair by a blazing hearth with a mug of mulled cider.”

  Regidor stared at the man for a moment. “You’re wrong, Bardon. He’d rather be in his bunk below deck. The man’s been too long at sea to be thinking fireplaces and comfortable chairs.”

  “Can you distract him?”

  Regidor snorted. “Leave him to me.”

  Kale edged her way back to where the pier joined the land. She stepped out into the open and approached the first sailor. When the old man noticed her, she projected questions into his mind.

  What’s she doing out on a night like this? Where’s she going? Does she think I’m going to let her board?

  She smiled and nodded at the befuddled man and strolled on by. As the guard turned his head to follow her movement, Bardon slipped out and grabbed him. With a hand clamped over the sailor’s mouth, Bardon hauled him to their hiding place. Kale followed on the lehman’s heels.

  Regidor stood in the shadows, his eyes trained on the figure at the top of the gangplank. Kale wondered what method Regidor had used to trick the man’s mind into thinking nothing unusual was happening on the dock. Sometimes her friend surprised her with something so innovative she couldn’t have predicted his actions at all, and she was supposed to know him better than anyone else. Librettowit said this quality made Regidor a genius.

  The meech dragon had matured in a short time. Was she still supposed to “manage” him? She didn’t think anyone except Paladin could actually control Regidor. At least he still listens to me when I reason with him. But he is so much smarter than me, one day my opinions won’t matter. He’s such a stubborn dragon.

  The dragon watched the snared man struggle. With one finger, he touched the captive’s temple. The sailor passed out.

  Bardon held the suddenly limp form. “What did you do?”

  “Put him to sleep.”

  “Will he wake up?” Bardon’s sharp tone cut through the air.

  “Yes, with a headache.”

  “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “From one of Librettowit’s old books. But I hadn’t tried it until now.”

  Kale felt tension surge between the two. Bardon didn’t appreciate the dragon’s interference. Regidor chafed because he knew he should have consulted the lehman before he knocked out the sailor.

  “Enough,” she said. “We have to get to Dar. Give me the hat and coat.”

  She settled on the barrel at the bottom of the gangplank. The man at the top remained oblivious to any unusual activity. Regidor obviously controlled his thoughts. She hunched down, assuming the same position as the sailor. She pictured that man in her mind. They’d left him in a heap behind the crate.

  One down, one to go. But how many sailors are between us and Dar, once we board the ship?

  That thought sent a shiver down her spine.

  She waited for Regidor and Bardon to approach the second man. This time Bardon would make the bold advance. Regidor would approach while obscuring the guard’s vision of him through his talent.

  Kale shivered. My feet feel like they’re encased in ice. My cape and the sailor’s coat should be keeping me warm. I bet the goose bumps are from nerves. Why are they waiting?

  A noise behind her answered the question. Someone had come out on deck. Two men stood about twelve feet behind her and some distance above her head. She heard the mumble of voices.

  Dar!

  Bardon’s voice entered her mind. “He’s coming off the ship alone. We’ll find out what’s going on once he’s safely away.”
/>   Dar came down the gangplank, his footsteps sounding light on the sodden wood. She peeked out from under the hat to see the doneel diplomat pass by. The transparent shield he used during a fight was up and repelling the rain. He walked away without acknowledging her presence.

  But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know I’m sitting here.

  “Regidor has you covered,” said Bardon. “Come on.”

  Kale hopped off the barrel and joined the two hiding behind the crate. She shed the sailor’s coat and hat.

  “Let’s go,” whispered Bardon.

  “Wait,” said Regidor. He pointed to the crumpled figure at their feet. “We can’t leave this old man out here in the cold.”

  Bardon looked down. “What do you suggest we do with him?”

  “Take him to The Horn.”

  “Why?” The word exploded from Bardon’s lips.

  “Shh!” Kale hissed.

  Regidor sighed. “Because that would be easier than tucking him into his bunk on the frigate.”

  “But why move him at all?” Bardon’s exasperation poured into Kale’s feelings.

  She shut them off. She was tired of her friends’ bickering and wanted to go home.

  “I feel responsible for him.” Regidor reached down and hoisted the limp figure over his shoulder. “Come on.”

  Bardon looked at her for an explanation. She shrugged, pulled up the hood of her cape, and traipsed after the meech dragon.

  “Oh well,” muttered Bardon. “Perhaps we’ll find my sword.”

  Dar had vanished again.

  This has to be the strangest adventure I’ve ever been on. I don’t feel particularly frightened, not with Regidor and Bardon beside me. But what is Dar up to? And Regidor? Why did he start that fight? I sure hope someone is going to explain all this. And I hope it’s soon.

  Regidor marched up the two wooden steps to The Horn, tramped over the wooden porch, and pushed in the swinging doors without one sign of trepidation. Inside, most of the clientele had gone home. Several workers were sweeping up evidence of the fight. They stopped and, with open mouths, stared at the three comrades.

  “Look here.” The marione who’d taken their dinner order came forward. He carried an unlit, broken candle in his hand. “I don’t want any more trouble.”

  Regidor plopped his burden down in an empty chair and rested the sailor’s head on the table. He then turned to the man with a pleasant smile.

  “No trouble. Just looking for my robe and my friend’s sword.”

  A sudden movement across the room caught Kale’s attention. She’d found the man who’d picked up the sword from the street. She glanced at Bardon, and he nodded.

  The marione blocked their way and waved the candle in front of Regidor’s face. “You’re not welcome here.”

  The meech dragon continued to smile. “Would you like me to light that for you?” He pursed his thin lips, and with a tiny blow, sent a small stream of fire to ignite the wick.

  Regidor stepped around the stunned marione and retrieved his robe from the floor. Bardon crossed to the tumanhofer who had his sword across his knees under the table.

  “My sword, please.” Bardon’s voice sounded smooth and polite.

  The tumanhofer swallowed hard. His eyes traveled to Kale and then to the meech dragon. Slowly, he pulled out the weapon and laid it on the table.

  “Thank you,” said Bardon. He examined the blade, then slipped it into his scabbard.

  Kale breathed a sigh of relief. Good! Now we can go home.

  One of the doorways to the back rooms opened. Dar emerged, immaculately dressed with only a slight hint of dampness around the bottom of his pant legs. He surveyed the shattered hall.

  “Seems like you’ve been busy,” he said.

  Regidor stopped with only one arm inserted into his monk’s robe. “No less busy than you, Sir Dar. I think it’s time we had a talk.”

  Dar cocked his head. “Ah.” He looked closely at the faces of his three companions. “Yes, I think you’re right. But first let’s find a carriage to take us home. I think we can chat best at our own fireside.”

  37

  GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS

  Kale’s stomach rumbled as she rummaged in a chest for her slippers. She’d removed her sodden boots before tiptoeing into the little room where Toopka slept. Kale shushed her tummy, telling it to remember the hearty meal she’d eaten at The Horn. She didn’t want Toopka to awaken. The little girl slept soundly, occasionally snoring with a soft snuffling sound Kale had grown to love. The o’rant smiled as Toopka grunted and turned over.

  With warm slippers on her feet, Kale found the old pair of trousers Dar had once made for her out of a skirt. She slipped those on, picked her discarded wet ones off the floor, and draped them over the back of a wooden chair. She hurried back to the kitchen, not wanting to miss any of the conversation.

  Her comrades met by the warm hearth. Dar placed steaming mugs of mallow and a plate heaped with fried mullins and daggarts on the large kitchen table. He also put out poorman’s dessert for the minor dragons. Even with the comforting touches of food and candlelight, the tension around the table could not be ignored.

  Librettowit crossed his arms over his chest with his fingers drumming the sleeve of his dressing gown. Bardon held a mug but did not drink. Regidor held his tail in his lap, stroking the scales at its tip. Only the minor dragons seemed unconcerned. They noisily slurped their treat.

  Kale looked around the table at her comrades. They all faced the same uncertain future, but they handled the tension differently. Librettowit allowed gloom to settle on his features. Bardon put on a stonelike facade to hide his inner turmoil. Regidor’s nerves caused him to visibly twitch. Dar adopted his debonair host persona.

  Only Dar and the minor dragons look comfortable. Who do I resemble?

  She surveyed the different faces once more.

  Nobody yet. I guess I get to choose. Paladin is always saying to take care of what is right in front of me. And I know what the problem is right now. I’m hungry!

  Kale took a toffee daggart from the plate, which she pushed toward Regidor.

  His head jerked up, and he looked at her intently for a moment. Then he sighed, grinned, and helped himself to two daggarts before passing the plate to the librarian.

  Dar sat at the head of the table. He wrapped his fingers around his drink as if to warm his hands.

  “First, I would like an account of the fight at The Horn.” His eyes shifted immediately to her. “Kale?”

  “Some of the men took exception to Regidor.” She paused, not knowing how to describe the way Regidor goaded the men into the fight.

  Dar’s eyes moved to the lehman. “Bardon?”

  “When the men challenged Regidor, he revealed his identity and instigated the fight.”

  Dar’s eyes narrowed. “And what provoked you, Regidor?”

  Kale had grown so accustomed to the unusual pupils in Regidor’s eyes, she hardly noticed them. But now the black pupils narrowed to a thick line running down the center of each green iris. The green glowed as if a fire burned within. Kale tensed, wondering if the meech would explode once again.

  “They talked of dragons, among themselves and in the stupid rumination of their drunken minds.” Regidor’s deep voice rumbled like thunder announcing a wild storm still some distance away. “Dragons are to be blamed for every ill of society. Poisonous slander. Malicious lies. These men plot to murder dragons working side by side with the high races. Their words inflame the fears of ignorance. Kill. Destroy. Maim. Imprison. These are their solutions to a nonexistent problem. Crush the eggs. Slit the throats of newborns. Burn the carcass of any slain dragon. Bounties have already been offered in Northern Trese. The slaughter has begun.”

  Kale tried to stem the panic flooding her. The minor dragons left their dessert and crawled into her arms where she cradled them, holding their fragile bodies as if to protect them from this unseen danger.

  “Fools,” barked Librettowit
. “For centuries Amara’s economy has depended on cooperation between the high races and the dragons. The dragons have always been unselfish in their willingness to facilitate the production and marketing of goods. How do these vigilantes propose to conduct business after they have annihilated our worthy friends?”

  “Yes.” Dar spoke with ponderous gravity. “This narrow-minded propaganda is poisoning the thinking of too many people. The problem escalates by careful planning. Rabble-rousers spread these venomous ideas. And the dragons themselves act in an irrational manner that strengthens the rumors.”

  Kale cuddled her three dragons. “What are we going to do?” Not even Dibl passed encouragement to her worried mind.

  “I have news from my meeting tonight,” said Dar. “We can at last leave this depressing city and go in search of the meech dragon. We have a definite lead.”

  They leaned over the table toward the doneel.

  “One wagon of itinerant merchants has been noted to have been in each location where an outbreak of radical dragon behavior has occurred. The meech dragon must be traveling with this band of thieves. They sell elixirs, potions, balms, and concoctions to heal, relieve, and assuage any problem you could name. Of course, it’s all a sham. I believe their poison harms men’s minds as well as their bodies. We shall track down these swindlers and see what they carry in their wagon besides chicanery.”

  “First,” said Regidor, “we have another issue to discuss.”

  All eyes turned to the meech dragon. Kale picked up the suppressed anger emanating from her friend. She cast a glance at Bardon to see if he, too, recognized the danger. The lehman’s body tensed. He pushed his chair a foot away from the table. His focus remained on Regidor’s stern expression.

  The dragon glared at the doneel. “Dar, you will not lie to us again.”

  “Lie?” The doneel clenched a fist. “Explain this accusation.”

  “You told us that you were going into a back room to play cards.” Regidor paused. He ground out his next words. “You were not playing cards.”

  Dar nodded. His fist relaxed. “I see your concern, Regidor. I’ll explain.