Dar slurped his tea and ignored Leetu’s frown at his manners. “Only Wulder can create the primary ingredients.”
“Of course!” The wizard nodded. “And they can only be combined in a mode prescribed by Wulder. A wizard is only as great as his understanding of the complexity of Wulder’s established order. Within those parameters, a wizard can do almost anything.”
He heaved a melancholy sigh and shook his head. His shoulders drooped. His gaze lowered from the busy image hanging over the table to the empty plates and scattered crumbs.
“Where Risto and his comrades have gone astray,” Fenworth said, “is in the belief that they can create primary ingredients. And that they have no need of following Wulder’s dictums.”
Kale forgot the swirling dots above the table and eyed the wizard. He looks old—and tired—and so very sad. Is he sorry for Risto? No, that couldn’t be. He’s mourning for all those who have lost loved ones at Risto’s hand. He’s sorry for the pain Risto has inflicted on others. He can’t be sorry for Risto.
Fenworth shrugged. As he looked back at his picture hanging above the table, his expression brightened, and he clapped his hands.
“It’s gone,” said Toopka.
“No, little one. I’ve replaced the illusion with reality. Now, in its natural size, only the eye of Wulder can behold it. But wait, I am adding to it.”
Over the table a gleam of light reflected off a narrow strip of metal that had not been there seconds before. The metal expanded and took shape.
Toopka clapped her hands and bounced in her chair. “A blade!”
“Yes,” said Fenworth. “All made from the same configuration of zoics you observed before. Then you couldn’t see them because they were small. Now there are so many of them you can see the form I have created. I will add other configurations to make the hilt.”
No sooner had he spoken his intention than a dark mass began to form at the blunt end of the shining sword. A hilt took shape with gold swirls embedded in a leather grip and a large ruby at the pommel. A gold emblem of Paladin’s army shone on the crossguard.
Fenworth reached up and plucked the sword from the air. He presented the sword to Bardon, but Bardon did not raise his hands to take it.
With his eyes fixed firmly on the magnificent sword, the lehman said, “I cannot, sir. It is a knight’s sword, and I have not earned the right to carry it.”
“You will need it on the quest.”
Kale held her breath. Fenworth’s giving Bardon permission to take the sword. Should he take it? Will he?
Bardon squared his shoulders and stood from the table. “It would not serve me if I carried it under false pretenses.”
“Aye,” concurred Lee Ark. “Paladin will provide him with the appropriate weapon should the need arise. The boy does well not to take the offering.”
Kale saw the approval in the general’s face and hoped Bardon saw it too. But when she reached with her mind to tell him, Good job, she was met by a swirling mass of dark emotions. She backed off, and her glance swept around the table. Tension visibly stiffened the postures of her comrades. Everyone waited. All eyes watched the wizard and the young lehman.
Fenworth ignored Lee Ark’s interruption and continued to watch Bardon’s stonelike expression. Only the lehman’s eyes hungered for the sword.
“You desire the sword just as you desire knighthood.”
“Yes,” said Bardon.
The sword shrank until it fit in the palm of the wizard’s hand. He tucked it in a pocket of his voluminous robes. “I shall keep it for you.”
“I’ll not be a knight, Wizard Fenworth. Grand Ebeck said as much at our last meeting.”
“Really?” The wizard turned to stare at Librettowit. “Oh dear, tut-tut. No, I don’t think you have that right. Oh dear, no, no, not right at all.”
He clapped his hands together and rubbed them with enthusiasm. He moved around the table to slap one firm hand on Regidor’s shoulder and reached for Kale’s. She braced herself against the strength of the blow and even then bent under the wizard’s heavy hand.
One minute I think he’s a doddering ancient, and the next I think he could beat Brunstetter at arm wrestling.
“Right you are, Kale, my dear. I am indeed a doddering wrestler of many weighty things. Not Brunstetter, I think not Brunstetter.”
He squeezed his fingers into her shoulder and beamed at his two apprentices. “Now that your lesson on elementary wizardry is firmly established in your minds, shall we proceed with our quest?”
“No!” shouted Librettowit. “We must organize, gather pertinent data, assign responsibilities.”
Fenworth looked astonished. “But Librettowit, that is what I have just done.”
“Only in your mind, Fenworth.”
“No, no, Wit. Didn’t I just explain that until one masters certain knowledge one must content oneself with being a follower and not a leader? I carefully explained the complexity of what must be learned and that such knowledge is attainable.”
“Only in your mind, Fenworth.”
The wizard looked confused, but before he could voice an objection, the librarian pressed on. “We now have seven comrades, two children, two minor dragons, and an unhatched third, and four major dragons to consider.”
“Four?” Fenworth wrinkled his brow.
“Celisse, Merlander, and the two dragons ridden by Lee Ark and Leetu,” Librettowit explained. “And that reminds me, Lee Ark has information of import.” A hopeful tone slipped into the tumanhofer’s speech. “Perhaps his message will put off the quest to Creemoor.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Lee Ark.
All eyes turned to him. He stood and placed his fists upon the table.
“Paladin has given us a rescue mission. Our goal is to pull a longtime friend out of Burner Stox’s clutches. Until recently this devoted o’rant was relatively safe within Risto’s stronghold.” He paused, and his gaze shifted to Kale. “Your mother is in danger, Kale. She has one more task to perform for Paladin, and we are to be at hand when it is completed. We will then bring her out of Creemoor to safety.”
Kale’s breath carried a quiet question. “My mother?”
Lee Ark nodded. Kale turned to look at Dar. He gave her a gentle smile and a reassuring wink. She then looked to Leetu. The emerlindian’s eyes held a sparkle of joy in her otherwise serene expression.
But a question marred Kale’s anticipation. It hung in her mind like a black thunderhead. Who is this “mother” who left her child in slavery?
17
PEACE?
They traveled on dragons to the Valley of Collumna. Frigid air blasted them as they flew over the southern branch of the Morchain Range. Kale wrapped Toopka inside her moonbeam cape, keeping both of them warm. The little doneel pushed her head out to see the magnificent snow-covered peaks.
Kale noted the splendor of the dragons. The sun glistened off their scales, making them look as if gemstones covered them from head to tail. Their huge wings beat in rhythm. The thurumph of each stroke underscored the whistle of cool wind.
Celisse moved her strong, ebony wings in perfect synchrony with Merlander’s glistening red wings.
Leetu, with Librettowit, Bardon, and Regidor riding behind her, rode just ahead on a massive blue and green greater dragon. Lee Ark, with Wizard Fenworth snoozing in a passenger basket, flew on another of the larger dragons. This one carried even more supply bundles than the first.
Lee Ark rode point, and Kale gathered from his position that he was in charge of the expedition. She looked at the marione’s square shoulders and thick neck, his black, windblown mane, and pictured the kind, serious expression that dominated his features. Everything she knew about him made her feel safe under his command.
Kale put her hand out to rest on the silver scales of Celisse’s shoulder. Beneath her palm the dragon’s powerful muscles rippled in a majestic rhythm. She trusted Celisse to fly straight and true.
A sigh escaped her lips as she stro
ked Celisse’s strong neck just above the collarbone. We’re on our way. Another quest. Another adventure. Part of me would like to stay at home, safely reading about others’ escapades. That part is like Librettowit. But I also felt a thrill when the dragons took off from the ground, and we were on our way. That’s more like Dar.
She looked once more at her companions. Her smile widened into a grin.
The excitement continued to bubble inside her as she looked down on the verdant valley. Their first stop would be where the smallest and largest of Wulder’s creations lived side by side. An adult kimen could sleep in either the hat or the shoe of any grown urohm. The two races had a long history of working together.
Dar?
“Yes?”
Do you think we’ll see Brunstetter? Do you think he’ll come with us?
“We might. He might.”
Gazing across the wingspans of the two dragons, Kale encountered Dar’s furry grin. The wind ruffled the white linen cravat at his neck and sent the tails of his fancy jacket trailing behind him.
Kale scowled. What’s so funny?
“You didn’t want to come on this little excursion.”
This part of the excursion is to a land I’ve heard about all my life.
“In fairy tales and legends.”
Yes! And I’m anxious to find out what is truth and what is make-believe. A year ago I thought gateways weren’t real.
Dar’s face tightened into a frown. “Some of the things we’ll find to be real won’t be very nice.”
I know, but that’s later, when we cross the Dormanscz Mountains into Creemoor. All the stories about Ordray are fun. And Fenworth says we have to wait here until Paladin sends reinforcements and gives the order to rescue my mother.
With the last two words, Kale shifted her eyes away from Dar. She didn’t want him to see how important it had become to her to find her mother. She had a lot of questions, but most of all, she wanted to know what kind of mother hers would be.
In the village where she was raised, the mariones showed little affection for their offspring. Parents spent a lot of time training children but very little time enjoying them. The mariones she had met in Lee Ark’s home, though, hugged and laughed and played games together.
She forced her mind away from the disturbing image of a mother who ordered her around like Mistress Meiger.
Her friends, all but Fenworth, sat at attention, eagerly watching the beautiful landscape below. The slope of the lead dragon’s wingspan tilted, and Lee Ark guided the small company northward. To the right, Kale caught glimpses of blue-green water along the horizon.
Again, the lead dragon banked, and the troop turned more to the east.
They set down in a pasture through which a stream flowed. Meadow grasses swayed in a pulsating breath of warm air, greeting them with the scent of flowers and fertile earth. Walking away from her friends, Kale followed the sound of water splashing over rocks.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw a miniature three-tiered waterfall. The water flowed over the ledges in an even stream without froth and foam at the base of each diminutive fall. At other points along the brook, water swirled and bubbled as the flow hit rocks and roots. But the water over the falls unnaturally bent to the angles without any disturbance.
“Kimen falls,” said Lee Ark from behind her. “An amazing sight, isn’t it?”
“I’ve heard about them in songs sung at the tavern, but to see one…”
Gymn and Metta flew from her cape with squeals of delight. They landed in the water and let the stream carry their tiny bodies over the falls. With musical trills, the two minor dragons rose from the water and flapped their leathery wings, showering droplets about them.
Toopka struggled against the confines of the cape and broke away. In only a minute, she had her tiny boots and socks off. She shed her clothes down to her white drawers and splashed into the stream with the dragons. She floated on her back and bumped down the steps like a child on a staircase.
Kale looked up at the general. “Did the kimens make this?”
“No, this is impossible,” answered Lee Ark with a smile. “Impossible creations spring from the hand of Wulder.”
Metta and Gymn teased Toopka by darting at her and shaking water-soaked wings above her head. They tired of the game long before the little doneel and took off looking for a place to sun themselves. They flew around the bare branches of a tree and chittered as if discussing this new oddity.
The rootup tree looked upside down. A dense bush surrounded the base. From the center, leafless branches reached upward, intertwined tightly. From a distance, they appeared to be a solid trunk. At the top, these limbs spread apart, just like a root system waving in the gentle breeze.
Toopka came dancing over the green grass, doing a shimmy every few steps to rid her fur of water.
“I like it here,” she announced as she grabbed her shirt and scrubbed her face dry.
“I like it here too.” Kale rested her hand on the pouch hanging from her neck. The egg within thrummed, reflecting her present mood.
By the time the sun slipped behind the Morchain Mountains, the party of travelers had settled in around a blazing campfire. Leetu Bends had taken the larger dragons off for a feed and returned to eat her own dinner cooked by Dar. Songs and stories followed the meal. Dar played a number of instruments with Metta’s cooing voice harmonizing.
The music fascinated Regidor. The meech dragon insisted on holding each instrument as Dar put it down and pulled another out of his bags. He concentrated on Dar’s every movement and mimicked him when he had a chance. Remarkably, he was soon playing accompaniment to every song Dar performed.
While Fenworth dozed against a pile of satchels and parcels, Librettowit and Lee Ark sang the words to the old ballads. Then they spun tales, trying to outdo each other in a good-natured rivalry.
At last Kale curled up in her bedroll. Though she was tired from the journey and the worrisome anticipation of entering Creemoor, her mind dwelt on an unknown mother and destructive spiders. She couldn’t banish the image of a beautiful, sad woman the evil wizard Risto had once shown her.
The woman looked like a queen sitting in a castle tower and gazing wistfully across the forested countryside. Risto had said the woman loved her, but Risto was full of lies. Kale knew what to expect from Creemoor spiders. She didn’t know what to expect from her parent.
Gymn snuggled against her cheek, but Metta could not relax so long as there might be another song. She skittered up and down Kale’s prone figure from her shoulder to her ankle.
From across the campsite, Toopka suppressed a yawn. She got up from the rock where she’d been sitting and came to Kale.
Kale held out the blanket, inviting the little doneel to crawl in beside her.
Toopka shook her head. “No, I’m not tired yet. It’s just the rock is hard. Can I sit with you?”
Kale patted the grass in front of her, and Toopka plopped down. She leaned her back against Kale’s stomach. The tiny child fit like a small puppy in the crook of Kale’s body.
“What kind of dragon will hatch?” asked Toopka, stifling another yawn and wiggling closer.
“I don’t know,” Kale whispered so as not to disturb Librettowit’s “Fable of the Fortunate Farmer.” She stroked the side of the little girl’s head where long, silky hair grew across her jaw line.
Toopka’s small fingers played with the edge of the blanket, pulling at a loose string. “You could ask Gymn and Metta. They might know.”
“No, they don’t.”
“You could ask Librettowit. He knows a lot of things.”
“I don’t think he can see inside an egg.”
“You could ask Wizard Fenworth. He’d know for sure. He can probably see into the egg and into tomorrow or even next week.”
“He might be able to, but he doesn’t answer questions very well.”
Toopka giggled. She leaned her head back against Kale. “I bet it’s a girl baby dragon. I
bet it’s the kind that likes other little girls. I bet it’s not as smart as Regidor and not as hard to play with. I bet it’s a baby dragon who will want to ride with me most of the time ’cause you’re so busy.”
“I’m busy?”
“Yep. You’re learning to be a princess.”
“Princess?”
“No, a princess. But I don’t understand why Wizard Fenworth is giving Regidor lessons on being a princess too.”
“The word is ‘apprentice,’ Toopka. It means someone who is learning a trade. Regidor and I are bound to help Wizard Fenworth, and in exchange he is obliged to teach us his trade.”
Toopka was silent for a moment. She shifted slightly, and Kale moved the blanket over the little doneel’s shoulders. The child relaxed into a ball.
“I think it would be more fun to be a princess,” she sighed just before her breathing evened out.
Kale ran a finger over one furry, tufted ear. “It depends on whether the princess can stay at home or must go out to save her country.” Kale let a long breath flow from her lungs and took another one in. “It depends on a lot of things, like who’s the queen, and whether she is good or evil.”
18
MOTHER
Kale wandered through the mushroom grove looking for the particular type Dar wanted for cooking. She repeated the description to Metta and Gymn as they flew around her. Metta, in particular, could not keep the image in her mind. Instead, she sang mushroom songs with such a variety of lyrics that Kale had to shush her to keep her own thoughts clear.
Kale repeated the instructions out loud. “The top of the cap is navy blue, mottled with purple. The fleshy underside is a rich brown, and the stalk is creamy tan with veins of green. A mature specimen will be at least four feet tall, and we are only to bring the cap.”
Metta began singing a song about three children afloat on the Pomandando River in the cap of a blue-green mushroom. The words formed clearly in Kale’s mind, although her ears heard only a tune sung in the syllabic language of the minor dragon.