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  “You can carry me,” said Toopka, running to his side. “Can I ride on your shoulders?”

  Gilda blocked Regidor’s movement to pick up the child. “You will not enter the city of your ancestry with that ragtag urchin on your shoulders.”

  “That’s all right,” Toopka said, then quickly ran away from the couple, calling over her shoulder. “Bardon will carry me.”

  Bardon hoisted her up. Kale patted the doneel’s leg. “You know, I was going to have Bardon carry me. My back aches, and my legs hurt.”

  “That’s ’cause of your baby,” Toopka explained. “But you’d look silly riding up here. You don’t want to look silly. That would upset Lady Gilda.”

  “You’re right.”

  They trudged through the underbrush with the kimens leading. They broke back the heavier limbs and made a path that was easily negotiated. Kale found her steps becoming more labored, but Gilda’s gait grew lighter. The minor dragons flitted through the trees. Gilda didn’t frown at them or scold them. Not once did she urge them to make themselves scarce. Her attention remained riveted on the path ahead.

  Mikkai flew ahead and came back to report that the meech colony was only a few more yards through the thick forest.

  “Faster,” Gilda prodded the kimen. “We’re almost to the city.”

  When Kale and Bardon broke through the last of the trees and stepped into the clearing, the kimens had spread out to stand in a line against the trees. Toopka whispered in Sittiponder’s ear, describing the scene before them.

  Gilda leaned heavily against Regidor, moaning, “No, no, no.”

  The inhabitants of the small village stopped what they were doing and stared at the questing party. Kale blinked in surprise. The houses resembled the homes in Paladise. Simple clay structures with no adornments. Some meech wore long garments of unbleached muslin. Some wore loose trousers below a tighter shirt. Over the under-clothing, each adult donned a narrow sheet of color. A hole in the middle of a length of cloth provided a neck for this panel that hung over the plainer garb. When they’d been in Paladise, she and Bardon had laughingly called this garment a flap.

  The village children moved first, breaking out of their frozen surprise and scampering to a parent’s side.

  One meech strode to meet them. He stopped in front of Regidor, glanced up and down his length as if examining the stranger’s unusual clothing, and frowned as he made eye contact.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked in a stiff, unwelcoming tone.

  “I’ve come to present my egg,” Gilda blurted. “I’ve come to find the great civilization of meech.”

  She laughed, and Kale thought she sounded on the edge of hysteria.

  Gilda pulled herself together, stood taller, and thrust out her chin. “I might as well have become a Follower. At least they are destined to lead. They have the initiative to conquer their world, not hide in a dismal canyon.” She glared at the man who represented the community. “Where is your city? Your university? Your center of cultural exposition?”

  She collapsed against her husband. “Oh, Regidor, get me out of here.” She slumped and, had not her husband caught her, would have landed in the dust.

  Regidor scooped her into his arms. “May we have a place to rest?”

  The meech surveyed their questing party. He took in the line of sober kimen standing in almost complete stillness. The breeze ruffled their clothing, but they scarcely moved to breathe or even blink their serious eyes. He paused to study the little doneel girl holding the blind tumanhofer boy’s hand. His eyes briefly rested on Kale’s rounded stomach, and his face lost some of its austere disapproval. “Certainly.” He gestured to the humble homes. “This way, please.”

  43

  MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY

  Dim shadows enfolded Kale like cozy blankets. She curled up against Bardon, relishing the peace of this simple home. He slept soundly, snoring softly in the way that always made Kale feel secure. It was good to have a loving husband at her back. His body radiated just enough heat to add to her comfort. A soft mattress eased the ache in her back, and the mistress of the house, Tulanny, had given her an extra pillow to put between her knees. That bit of a wedge gave her hip bones a rest.

  Once the meech had recovered from the shock of the questers’ intrusion, they had become gracious and hospitable hosts. The questing party had been divided into groups and invited into separate homes. Kale realized that the host for Gilda and Regidor was the colony’s physician. She breathed a sigh of relief and asked Wulder to instigate a healing for Gilda’s troubled heart.

  Kale liked their hostess immediately. The warm-hearted meech was older than most. Her husband had died. Her children, grown and married. Their children, grown and married. Contrary to what Kale had believed, these meech lived in tight family units.

  Tulanny talked a steady stream. Both Kale and Bardon were interested in what she said, but their eyelids grew heavy from the day’s journey. They couldn’t hide their fatigue even with politely covered yawns.

  Mistress Tulanny laughed. “Oh goodness, you’re tired. And I’m just yammering on, happy as a prentbird to have someone to listen to me. Let me show you to my spare room. I can’t call it a guest room, because to be honest, I’ve never had a guest before. But it was my daughter’s room before she married.”

  After the tent and hard ground of the previous nights, the tidy bedroom had been a welcome sight.

  In the light provided by the moon, Kale counted the dragons. Each one had a cushion collected from various rooms of the house. Tulanny had insisted that her little guests be as comfortable as the larger company. She’d lined them up against the wall, but after she left the room, Kale’s little friends demonstrated they had ideas of their own. They’d pushed and shoved, tugged and heaved, until the cushions crowded together in a circular mound. She and Bardon had watched them from their bed, giggling at the dragons’ antics.

  She breathed deeply. The wood furniture, carved from trees found locally, had a peculiar, but pleasant, fragrance. Everything about this colony exuded unpretentious elegance.

  Kale relaxed into the comfy bed, closed her eyes, and hoped she’d sleep well. As if by some signal, the baby within began the nightly routine of squirming, turning, kicking, maybe even dancing within the womb. Kale put a hand on her abdomen and mentally crooned a soothing tune to her child. The baby liked the attention and wriggled some more. Kale wiggled a bit herself, trying to get more comfortable. She knew no alternative than to wait it out. The baby would eventually settle down.

  Tulanny had served a wonderful concoction made with cheese and a fruit she said the meech had brought from the other world. She had cut the sweet fruit into large chunks, stirred it into the grated cheese, then topped it with butter and cracker crumbs. She called the fruit pricklebarrel and the concoction a schop. Tulanny also said she would take Kale and Toopka to the greenhouse where the pricklebarrel was grown.

  Kale craved another scoop of the sweet and salty dish. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted one more serving. Tulanny’s words echoed in her mind. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, it’s yours.

  Kale slipped out of the covers, being careful not to lift the blankets enough to let a cold draft in to wake Bardon. Several of the minor dragons lifted their heads and eyed her. But only one decided to join her for a snack. Pat flew to her shoulder and rode close to her neck.

  Light shone through the windows from the moon and two streetlamps. Kale navigated from her room without running into any furniture. She tiptoed to the kitchen, uncovered the shallow rectangle pan holding the remainder of the pricklebarrel schop, and looked through a cabinet for a bowl.

  Lights parading past the front of the house distracted her. She left the kitchen and crept to the large-paned window. A group of six meech men walked together.

  “Oh no!” Kale forced her dismay down. She must be silent. She couldn’t risk waking Tulanny. Are they marching like the Followers? No, they’re out of step, and ce
rtainly not blindfolded. But where are they going? And here comes another group. I’ll just follow them.

  She debated whether or not to go for her moonbeam cape. Did she have time before they got too far ahead of her? She crossed to the door and put her hand on the knob. It didn’t move.

  Locked! How does this thing unlock?

  She fiddled with the handle, felt around for a keyhole or a latch. Nothing! Pat, see what you can do.

  She held him in her hand as he examined the door.

  Wizardry? she answered his announcement in her mind. A wizardry you’re not familiar with? How quickly can you—? Oh, well that’s not going to do us any good. Surely there’s another way out of here.

  Kale surveyed the room. Look, the windows near the ceiling are open for ventilation. It’s only a crack, but I can probably slide it wider. What? Oh!

  She looked down at her very wide girth. You’re right. I can’t possibly fit through that opening. Can you go, Pat? Can you follow them and not be seen?

  Pat zoomed across the room and squeezed out of the smaller window. Kale watched but didn’t get a glimpse of him.

  “Oh, I hope he comes back all right,” she whispered. “Maybe I should have sent one of the other dragons. No, Pat will do fine.”

  “Are you all right, Kale?” Tulanny stood in her nightgown in her bedroom door.

  Kale started and turned quickly. She pointed to the kitchen. “You—Your schop was so good. I got a craving for more and couldn’t sleep.”

  The meech hostess smiled and headed for her kitchen. “Let me warm it up for you. And perhaps you’d like some warm milk to help you relax. Are you comfortable in the bed? I know it’s hard for you of the high races to carry a baby.” She laughed. “Frankly, I think Wulder planned our ordeal more to my way of liking. Of course the egg gets to be a bit much, but then you just present it. And then, oh my, the anticipation. Of course, we choose when the egg will hatch. We have one of the high races quicken the egg. Then the egg hatches. Much more convenient than how Wulder has arranged things for you. But you know Wulder. He does as He does.”

  Kale followed Tulanny and sat at the table. “Tulanny?”

  “Yes?”

  “There were men passing the house. I saw two groups.”

  “Studies.”

  “Studies?”

  “Midnight studies of the Tomes.”

  “I’ve never heard of people doing studies in the middle of the night.”

  “Oh, it’s the best time. No children bouncing their balls, rattling their toys, singing, shouting, carrying on. Very quiet. No one comes to call. No one needs help. Everyone is asleep.”

  “Except those who study?”

  “And pregnant o’rants who like my pricklebarrel schop.”

  Kale took the bowl and spoon from Tulanny with a smile and a “thank you.” She stretched her talent toward the hostess as she turned to pour a glass of milk from the saucepan on the stove. Kale’s mind touched a barrier, and she quietly withdrew.

  Why would Tulanny have her mind blocked? Was she holding back information? Was she lying?

  Kale tasted the schop and found she’d lost her enthusiasm for the treat. She continued to eat in small bites while Tulanny described the different activities that kept the women of the meech colony busy.

  “What is the name of the community?” Kale interrupted. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say.”

  “Bility.”

  “Is that a meech word?”

  “Oh, well, I’m not sure.” Tulanny fell into a moment of silence, giving Kale the impression that she fought the urge to keep chattering about the town and its history. The meech gave an exaggerated yawn. “Are you finished, Kale? We really need to get some sleep.”

  “Yes, Mistress Tulanny.” Kale rose and took her dishes to the counter.

  “I’ll wash those with the breakfast things. You scurry back to bed before you catch cold. Oh, look. I’ve left a couple of windows undone.”

  She fetched a pole from the pantry and used it to push the window closed. Then, with a hook at the end, she pulled the latch over into a clasp. The window was locked.

  Kale stared at the metal bolt and wondered how Pat would get back in. Tulanny replaced the pole.

  Kale smiled at her. “I am tired. Thank you for your hospitality. You’re a wonderful hostess.”

  The meech woman smiled, her sharp teeth gleaming as they caught the light from one of the lampposts.

  Kale shivered, glad that she was used to the rather feral-looking smiles Regidor sometimes used to scare his enemies.

  Is Tulanny trying to intimidate me?

  Kale bobbed her head. “Good night.”

  “Tuck yourself in, nice and warm. Don’t worry about rising early tomorrow. You should rest now. That baby looks ready to come.”

  Kale murmured an answer and ducked in her room, closed the door, and leaned against it.

  Pat! What am I going to do about Pat?

  Bardon snorted and turned over, successfully claiming her side of the bed as well as his.

  It doesn’t matter. How could I sleep?

  She tried the window. Locked! That’s just wonderful. What if a fire broke out? How would we save ourselves? By breaking the window.

  Different means of breaking the window flitted through her thoughts. Don’t be silly! she scolded herself. You can’t break the window.

  She sat down in a wooden rocker and rubbed the side of her abdomen. Her fingers traced over the other bump she carried in a scarf. “You,” she whispered.

  With a little maneuvering, she was able to shift the egg along the scarf and out through a gap between the buttons on her nightgown. She held the egg in her hand, her fingers rubbing softly over the shell. The egg had changed from a rocklike hardness to a soft, leathery surface that gave under her caress.

  “You’re ready, aren’t you?” She closed her fingers around the egg and rested it against her chest. Leaning back against the wooden slats, she gently rocked.

  She dozed, and when she jerked awake, she still held the egg close to her heart, and something rested on her knee. She looked down to discover Pat, sitting up and waiting for her to wake.

  “How’d you get in?” She knew before he had a chance to answer. Soot coated his scales. “You came down the chimney. Very clever. What did you find out?”

  Kale’s eyes widened as she listened to the jumble of words and saw the collage of pictures that poured from Pat’s mind. A few seconds into the account, he began to shiver. She scooped up his chubby little brown body with one hand and held him against her right next to the unhatched egg. She soon ceased rocking altogether, then a minute later, rocked hard. When he finished, she slowed the rocker, cooed to him, and stroked his shuddering body.

  When she felt calmer, she rose from the rocker and went to sit on the bed beside her husband.

  “Bardon, wake up!”

  The urgency in her voice reached him immediately. He sat bolt upright. “What’s the matter? Is it the baby?”

  She shook her head, took a deep breath, and began.

  “I was hungry, so I got up and went to the kitchen. Pat went with me. Men were walking by in the street. I was going to follow them, but the door was locked. We’re locked in this house, Bardon.”

  He shifted, pushing the covers away and facing her more directly.

  “There was a window open, so Pat followed them. He’s just returned. The men went into a cave. They acted as if they were about to begin a ceremony. It reminded Pat of the reading of the Tomes. Only they didn’t read the Tomes, they chanted. The words were slurred, but the melody was strong. He said it was not a song to like and hum during the day. But still it held him so he could not move.

  “Then a group of men went farther into the mountain. He could smell the fear on their skin. He tried to follow, but something so horrible lurked within that he couldn’t get up the courage to follow.”

  “How does he know what was down there?”

  “He doesn’t. The men
shook with fear as they walked into the tunnel. The men left behind still chanted, but with difficulty. Tears and suppressed sobs interrupted the litany as they intoned the half-words.

  “Pat gave me glimpses of the surroundings. Someone had drawn a hideous dragon on the wall of one side of the cave. On the other side was a painting of great beauty. Pat noticed the men avoided looking at either picture. They kept their heads down, staring at the floor, or gazed down the passage into the mountain.

  “Then a swarm of those black dragons came out of the same tunnel the men had gone down. They flew directly out of the cave. Pat was able to break away from the enchantment of the song when he realized I might be in danger. But the dragons soared over the forest and disappeared in the opposite direction of the village.”

  “South,” whispered Bardon. “They are going south.” He focused on Kale’s face. “Do you think the meech are worshiping whatever is deep in the mountain?”

  “Pat thought so.”

  Kale leaned into Bardon, and he responded as she hoped he would. He held her in his strong arms.

  They didn’t talk for a while. Through the bond, Kale knew her husband was logically sorting through what she had said, what the implications might be, and what course of action might be taken. Even when he contemplated the possibility that Mot Angra lived in the meech ceremonial cave, she did not give way to panic. Her racing pulse calmed under the influence of the steady beat of his heart. His unemotional stream of thoughts counteracted the chaos of her own.

  “We must inform Paladin,” he said. “I’ll discuss this with Regidor and Seezle in the morning.”

  He got out of bed, took the sleeping Pat from her hand, and placed him in the pile of cushions.

  “What is this?” He indicated her clutched fingers as he sat beside her. “The egg.” She opened her hand.

  A crack ran from the small end of the egg to the broader end. Smaller fracture lines extended to the sides. A chink had fallen out.

  Kale caressed the egg in her open palm. “I feel kind of guilty.”

  “Did you drop it?”

  “No, the dragon is hatching. These breaks mean it will be only minutes before we meet him face to face.”