Dragons of the Watch Page 21

  “Us? You and me? We’re going to be pulled into this mess?”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “I think you walked and I fell into this mess.”

  Bealomondore stared at the ugly white dragon enjoying Ellie’s attention. He no longer looked quite so frightened and frail. Rather, he looked as if the delivery of this news had taken a lot off his mind. In fact, was he smug? relieved? pleased with himself? Bealomondore narrowed his eyes and studied the dragon. Orli gloated. That was an expression of pure gratification. The dragon had shed the responsibility of aiding the wizard and dumped his duty on two gullible tumanhofers.

  Bealomondore pointed a finger at Orli. “Ellie, mind my words. This dragon intends for us to bring about this miracle.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You know? How can you know?”

  “He told me.”

  Bealomondore tried to catch up. Didn’t he just recently enlist Airon to help her learn to mindspeak? Was the bond that sometimes caused them to finish each other’s sentences not constantly in play? How did Ellie become more informed of the secret workings of Rumbard City when he’d searched for months for clues? And why hadn’t Orli, suddenly a fount of knowledge, come forward to tell him a thing or two before Ellie fell into the bottle?

  It wasn’t her fault. He tried not to sound as irritated as he was. “What did he tell you?”

  “Old One was given the task, as the last living adult, to train the children. But they had been too long on their own. He went out to speak to them, decided they could not be tamed, came back into the library, and has shunned them ever since.”

  “Then his assessment of the situation is very close to mine. The whole lot of those hooligans is incorrigible. The job of civilizing them is hopeless.”

  “Well, it would be, except there is a bottle of memories we can find and unstop.”

  Bealomondore unclenched his jaw to speak. “I suppose that is the first thing we can do to ‘change the course of Rumbard City.’ ”

  “Actually, that’s the second. First is to gain the trust of the children and guide them toward more acceptable behavior.”

  Bealomondore stood in a daze, shaking his head. Ellie sounded quite ready to attempt the unattainable.

  “It’s what we were planning to do anyway, Bealomondore.”

  She sounded pleasant and determined.

  He’d try to be obliging. “Yes, I recall. The amazingly successful Daggart Tactic.”

  “You’re sounding very snide, Bealomondore. That attitude will not get us anywhere.”

  So much for hiding his mind-set from Miss Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl. He jumped off the last step, leaving the mound of disintegrating wusstbunters. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the skylight. What could he possibly do? He had the gnawing suspicion that the key to getting out of the bottle rested with the taming of this crew.

  “There’s one more thing, Bealomondore.”

  He closed his eyes. “Go ahead. Tell me.”

  “When we establish a sense of order among the urohm children and find the bottle of memories and open that bottle, then the bottle around the city will dissolve.”

  “And we’ll be free to go?”

  “Yes. We’ll be free to go.”

  After the Battle of the Wusstbunters, Ellie and Bealomondore spent hours cleaning up. The fine dust left from the wizard’s uncharitable thoughts drifted with every little puff of air. The dust had a slightly unpleasant smell and caused them to sneeze, which only complicated cleaning up.

  Ellie’s latest attempt to gather and dispose of the black powder involved getting down on her hands and knees and using a damp cloth. The sooty residue got more and more difficult to scoop up.

  She straightened, putting her hands against the small of her aching back, and glared at the smear she had just made. Ellie wanted to leave the smudge, leave the library, and move to another dwelling. Whoever heard of anyone living in a library? She and Bealomondore had seen lots of unoccupied residences in their meanderings through the town.

  Of course, living where they were had many advantages. A wealth of information surrounded them. On the other hand, the size of the books meant they were not quite easily accessible. But another plus outweighed that inconvenience. Old One sometimes helped them, and because of the gruff curmudgeon, the children would not sneak in and attack. Perhaps after she and Bealomondore gained the children’s trust and developed a friendship, they could move to a real house.

  With a gasp, Ellie dropped her cloth on the floor, right in the middle of her latest smurpy gray spot. She stood and looked around the room. Her sudden realization colored everything she saw with a new light.

  Old One had yet to move or make a noise, not even a groan or the rattling snore he produced when he fell asleep in his chair. That worried her. They needed Old One, and he needed them.

  Tak had made it known he wanted to go outside. He probably felt safer in the fenced library park. With fewer, less severe bites, he had returned to normal quickly. His sores scabbed over almost as soon as she applied the salve.

  Orli’s numerous wounds required more attention. The beasts had viciously sunk their teeth into both Orli and Old One as if they were the main targets of the attack. Orli lay on the step next to Old One. Ellie could probe his mind enough to determine that the minor dragon suffered from discomfort but not nagging pain. She picked up his concern for the old urohm. It would be good for the watch to come in early tonight. Not only Orli and Old One needed the ministering of the minor dragons. She wanted their comforting presence, and Bealomondore probably felt the same.

  She tilted her head and listened. Bealomondore hummed as he worked on the second floor. He was getting more adept at scaling steps, chairs, cabinets, and anything else that got in his way. She didn’t recognize the tune, but she took comfort knowing he was close enough to call to if she needed him.

  She walked slowly to the children’s area, determined to make tea, sit in a comfortable chair, and think. If they lived here for a long time, she wanted to live in a home, not a library. When she envisioned moving into a house, she pictured Bealomondore and herself in one of the smaller residences along one of the quiet streets farther from the center of the city. That was wrong.

  Not the house. Not the street. But the two of them setting up house together.

  Ellie felt her cheeks burn.

  She put water in the kettle from the tap, placed it on the heating circle on the counter. While she waited for the water to boil, she got out the teapot and teacups. Then she sat down and stared out the window at a cloudless sky. At this time of day, she could see a place in the distance where the blue shifted color and marked the boundaries of their habitat. She couldn’t actually see the glass, but something different could be detected if she really concentrated.

  Her mind drifted to the royal wedding and coronation ball. The excitement of such a grand celebration rippled through her calm pretense. She’d dreamed of her own wedding. In the village, among family and friends, her father would give her to some gentle and loving man. Bealomondore easily fit into the picture.

  If they were to decide to marry, how could they do the ceremony part? Who would say the words that were always said? Who would ask the questions about their commitment? Her father would not be there, so who would possess her hand? Then who would take her hand from the entrusted one and place it in Bealomondore’s hand? The symbolism made the ceremony special.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. What was she thinking? As long as they stayed in Rumbard City, their romance was acceptable. Who would object? The children? Old One? The dragons?

  But should they ever escape, she would return to the village, where marriage ceremonies were simple and sweet. He would go to Ragar, where marriage ceremonies required elegance and style.

  So … if she really hoped for their eventual escape, then kissing Bealomondore, holding his hand, leaning against his shoulder had to come to an end. No dreams about happily ever after.

  She�
��d been raised in a no-nonsense household. If things were realistically within reach, then it was all right to try for them. But no daughter of her father would waste time, energy, and plans on something that could not possibly come to pass.

  She’d almost forgotten who she was.

  She opened her eyes and whispered to the empty room. “Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl of Glenbrooken Village—not within the village, mind you, but within walking distance if you’ve got the day free for such a trip.

  “Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl, daughter of Naperkowson Clarenbessipawl and Emmademgotton Clarenbessipawl. Oldest sister in a brood of eight, trained in such practical things as cooking and sewing. Knows enough herb lore to cure most common ailments. Has enough experience to tend most needs of the animals on the farm. Shows a green thumb in the garden and a white thumb in the kitchen.

  “No one will go hungry, have an illness ignored, nor suffer the discomfort of an unregulated home with Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl as woman in charge.

  “And that is who I am, and I am content to be that person here in Rumbard City, back home with Da and Ma, or visiting Ragar during festive times.” She quoted the stitched sampler on her family’s wall, “ ‘A person who knows who she is, is comfortable being who she is, in any place she is.’ ”

  She slapped her hands against her knees, stood, and strode to the kettle. She’d hidden a few daggarts from Bealomondore and Old One, saving them. Now would be a good time to share the sweets.

  Grabbing a potholder, she lifted the partially filled kettle and poured hot water into the teapot. She lowered the tea infuser in and hooked it on the rim, then set the lid on while it steeped.

  Retrieving the daggarts required pulling a chair over to a cabinet. She climbed up and opened both doors at once. A cloud of wusstbunters flew in her face. She screamed, lost her balance and fell to the floor. Lying on her back, she covered her face, but the swarm ignored her and flew through the children’s area, headed for the rotunda.

  Ellie yelled, “Bealomondore!” She scrambled to her feet and ran after the wusstbunters. “Bealomondore! They’re coming! More coming!”

  She entered the round hall and saw that the beasts had covered Old One and Orli as they lay on the steps. She couldn’t see either of them, but their outline showed in the contour of the blanket of biting wusstbunters.

  Bealomondore appeared at the top of the staircase, took off his coat, and hurried down, jumping from step to step. He swung his coat as if beating a blazing fire. She grabbed the broom, struggled up the stairs, and began thrashing the nasty creatures. As in the first encounter, each blow dispatched one or more of the wusstbunters. The creatures never turned to defend themselves against Bealomondore and Ellie.

  Ellie’s arms grew tired, and the broom seemed heavier with each swing, but finally none of the wusstbunters remained alive.

  Ellie collapsed next to Old One and brushed the black bodies off. “Oh, Bealomondore, look!” She touched Old One’s face in one of the few places not raw from bites. “If Laddin doesn’t come soon, I don’t think he’ll survive.”

  “I’ll go get warm water, clean rags, and the ointment.”

  She sniffed, trying not to cry. “Can you hear me, Old One? Please, hold on. Laddin and the others should be home soon. The sun is lowering in the west. Please, please hold on.”

  Bealomondore returned, and together they bathed Old One’s hands and face.

  Ellie pointed to his legs. “His trousers are torn. We’d better check for bites under his clothing.”

  Lifting the ragged, bloodstained shirt, Bealomondore grimaced. “I’m going to cut away his shirt so we can reach more of his wounds. Those monsters ripped his skin to shreds.”

  Ellie gulped back a sob and could only nod. The urohm had been crotchety from the outset, but she’d grown fond of him. He reminded her of Gramps on the days when his old bones kept telling him he’d passed his prime.

  Gramps had a bit more humor in how he faced the trials of a failing body, but Ellie saw the same type of normal concerns in this old man. He just didn’t handle it as well. If Gramps could have befriended him, Old One might have had a better attitude.

  But what did it matter now? She wanted him to open his eyes, give her a scowl, and gripe about anything and everything.

  Bealomondore reached across Old One and patted her arm. “Can you see to Orli?”

  She nodded and picked up a fresh rag. She dipped it in the warm water and began bathing Orli’s battered body.

  A tingle in her ears made her lift her head. “They’re coming, Bealomondore.”

  “I know. I just heard Det and Laddin. I’ve told them to hurry.”

  She realized that with Bealomondore close by, she heard the dragon’s mindspeaking much clearer. Their odd mixture of words and pictures communicated dismay over the attacks. She soon heard their approach, leathery wings flapping at great speed. She leaned back.

  Laddin landed on Old One’s chest. The minor dragon turned in a tight circle then moved slowly down the old man’s legs and up again. He did another check of the abdomen and chest with that measured circle, then he went to the head and spent a moment studying the extent of damage done there.

  He settled across the old man’s forehead.

  “We can help,” said Bealomondore. “Place Orli on Old One’s chest. Take my hand as I rest it on Orli, and with your other hand, touch both Laddin and the urohm. The healing energy will multiply as it flows through Laddin, you, me, Orli, and Old One.”

  Ellie followed his instructions. Bealomondore placed his right hand over Laddin and Old One’s temple. His left hand held hers and rested on Orli.

  “Relax,” said Bealomondore. “You aren’t required to know what to do. You only have to allow the energy to pass through. Laddin does the healing. He knows what to concentrate on.”

  “What will he do?” she whispered.

  “Ease Old One’s breathing, repair the torn tissue to stop the bleeding, and help any traumatized organs. He’ll do the same for Orli.”

  She shook her head, trying to clear her mind and take in Bealomondore’s explanation.

  He smiled at her. “You may understand some of what Laddin is doing as you experience it, but our role is to provide support. Laddin will coax Old One’s body to return to the functions Wulder has ordained. Take deep, slow breaths. Close your eyes. Allow Laddin to work. Allow Wulder’s presence to strengthen Old One while He guides Laddin.”

  What if she did something wrong and interfered with Laddin’s work? But the bond with Bealomondore eased her worries. She found herself relaxing. At first she felt a slight buzz in her hands. Gradually the sensation smoothed out to a soothing hum and extended up her right arm and down her left. She shifted to recline in a more comfortable position.

  How long would this take? It didn’t feel like work but was tiring nonetheless. Memories of fields of spring wildflowers came to her mind. She heard old man Lemeterndern’s mellow fiddle as he played at a gathering in the village. She smelled and tasted her mother’s lemon cake. Scenes of peace and contentment drifted through her mind.

  She sighed and wondered at the warmth that radiated among those providing the healing circle. Each entity in the ring produced a thread of energy that flowed with the others much like strands in a piece of yarn. They merged to make one stream. She could identify her own and Bealomondore’s. Soon she identified the two dragons’ energy lines. Old One’s thin thread barely pulsed. Once she felt it, she didn’t lose it again, even when the stronger, warmer, brighter, unidentified stream entered the flow.

  She laid her head on Old One’s shoulder. Totally relaxed, she allowed the coursing stream to fill her as it passed through. Joining energy felt natural, and she didn’t want the experience to end.

  The last thread, the strongest thread—who generated that beautiful peace? The answer came, and she could not tell if Bealomondore had whispered the name in her mind or if the last entity had spoken. Somehow, as soon as she was told, she knew that
was what she had expected.

  Wulder, Bealomondore’s Wulder, had joined them. But not Bealomondore’s Wulder. Ellie now knew Wulder in her own way. And she knew she would recognize Him anywhere. He was her Wulder. No, still not quite right. She was Wulder’s.

  She had a vision of a strong young man writing her name on a huge banner. He stood back and admired the cloth sign as it hung in the sky on nothing. A breeze fluttered it like a flag. The young man, Wulder, gathered the banner, then wrapped it around His body. The sign bearing her name became one with the robe He wore. She could no longer distinguish it from the material of His clothing. She would never be able to pull the two weavings into what they had been, a robe and a banner. No one else would be able to separate them. She was safe.

  Wulder not only accepted her, but chose her and gave her a purpose. She believed He had more to tell her, to show her, and she wanted to learn it all. He turned and faced her. No words came from His mouth, and still she heard His gentle command.

  “Rest.”

  She drifted away from the comforting image and into a pleasant sleep.

  Ellie opened her eyes and realized that someone had put her to bed. She still wore the clothes she’d had on yesterday. Her stomach growled, and she squinted at the window. Morning sun! No wonder she was hungry. She jumped up, pushed her fingers through her unruly hair, and ran to the rotunda. Old One sat in his chair with a tray on his lap.

  He frowned at her. “You needn’t look so surprised.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re better.” She rushed forward and hugged what she could reach, her arms surrounding his leg and her head resting against his knee. Her forehead bumped his breakfast tray.

  “Get off! Get off!”

  She grinned at his gruff voice and backed away. “You look so much better. I was afraid you were going to die.”

  “I can’t die until it is time to open the bottle.”

  “Which bottle?”

  “The wizard’s bottle.”

  “I think both bottles are of the wizard’s making.”