2
THE GOOSE AND THE GANDER
Three doors stood open at the front of the bustling inn. Above the left one, a sign read, “The Goose,” and a white bird wearing a bonnet looked down with beady eyes on the entryway. Above the right door, a similar sign, “The Gander,” pictured a large goose with his mouth wide open as if he squawked a greeting.
The middle door led into a hallway dividing the inn into two parts. Through this entry, Kale could see to the back of the building and into a garden. She followed the captain and Dar through the arch and down the dim passage.
The light weight on her leg shifted, and Kale felt the doneel urchin crawl higher, past her knee. Toopka grasped Kale’s tunic. Kale clutched one edge of her open cape and pulled it closer to the other side. She looked around. No one had noticed the small bulge moving up the side of her body under the moonbeam cloth.
What are you doing? she asked Toopka.
“Looking in all these pockets.”
Stop.
“There’s no harm in looking around.” The child moved across Kale’s back, hanging on to the sturdy material of the leecent uniform. “Did you know it’s kinda light in here? Lots of pockets, too, some big, some small. I could sure use a cape like this. When I first reached in, the cape nearly snapped my hand off, like it was alive.”
It’s not alive.
“Here’s a bigger pocket.”
Don’t! The bulge disappeared from Kale’s side, and she could no longer feel the little girl’s hands and feet digging into her. Toopka!
Kale stopped in the hall and closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to reach the little doneel’s mind.
The marione guard bumped into Kale. She ignored the man’s impatient words. Her eyes flew open.
Nothing! Oh no! Kale’s hands searched around her waist, trying to locate Toopka. She must have gone into a hollow pocket. Is that safe?
The guard prodded her back. Kale marched on. Four more steps and she emerged into the courtyard of the inn. Tables and chairs sat under shade trees, and a wild array of scarlet, gentian, and cobalt flowers bloomed in scattered beds. People relaxed with trays of fruit and tiny sandwiches set before them. Mugs of drink and delicate cups of tea also graced the tables. Serving maids scurried to and fro, providing for the customers’ comfort.
Again Kale patted the side of her tunic, hoping she would feel the small form of the child. The fabric lay flat against her hip.
Dar! I’ve got to talk to you.
“I’m listening.” He stood looking up at the captain of the guard and seemed engaged by what the man was saying.
Toopka went into a hollow inside my cape.
“I take it Toopka is the name of the pickpocket.”
She took a pickle, and I doubt she found it in someone’s pocket. What’s going to happen to her inside the hollow?
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in one myself, and right offhand, I can’t think of anyone who has.”
Gymn has.
“Ask him.”
Kale looked back at the two guards and the sour-faced, grumbling merchant. She almost stomped her foot in exasperation. What could she do with them looking on?
Dar, the little girl could be in trouble.
“And then again, she might not. Probably not, I would think, if Gymn has been in and out of those hollow pockets.”
But he’s a dragon, and she’s a—
The memory of the doneel child’s frightened eyes sprang up to accuse her. What in Amara would the little girl encounter in that mysterious hollow?
Untying the top of the cape from around her neck, she stepped over to the nearest empty table. She swung the cape off her shoulders and laid it inside out on the bare tabletop.
“Here now!” the tumanhofer merchant objected. “Whatta you doing?” He and the guard moved closer.
At the sound of his bellow, Dar and the captain turned to watch, as did every other person in the garden.
Two minor dragons, neither one bigger than a kitten, popped out of the cape and ran around the tabletop. One sparkled in purple hues, and the other shimmered green. They did a couple of flips in the air and chirred with delight.
“Gymn, Metta,” said Kale, “I’ve lost a little doneel girl. She went into a hollow.”
In a flash, the two dragons disappeared into the folds of moonbeam material. The green one’s head sprang forth again without any evidence of success. The purple dragon reappeared more slowly. Clenching a bright yellow sleeve in her teeth, Metta struggled with a flailing arm. Kale reached into the hollow and helped pull the squirming doneel free of the cloth.
“Ha!” The merchant slapped his stick against his hand. “You see. The o’rant hid ’er in ’er cape!”
A woman’s voice, strong and commanding, resounded over the crowd. “You be quiet, Henricutt Tellowmatterden.”
“Maye Ghint, ye be ’arboring a thief and a pickpocket, a band of renegades, a swarm of stealing scum, a—”
“Nonsense!” A statuesque o’rant woman pushed through the crowd. She took a quick look around at those assembled. “I see customers disturbed by your noise. I see my serving maids neglecting their duties. I see city guards and two of Paladin’s servants, and a starved doneel child.” She turned to face the shorter, broader tumanhofer. “And I see a scalawag who likes to clamor and snort to draw attention to himself.”
“You can insult me all you want, Maye Ghint, but I will see justice done. This little wretch ’as been stealing me blind.”
“After your gold, silver, and jewels, is she?”
“No,” blustered the merchant. “A pickle today. Yesterday, a loaf of bread. The day before, a link of sausage and a ripe parnot.”
“Oh dear, Master Tellowmatterden.” Maye shook her head in mock sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear you’ve come upon hard times. I had no idea your prosperous business had fallen into such a decline that the loss of one pickle, a loaf of bread, a piece of sausage, and a bit of fruit would spell your ruin.”
“See ’ere, Maye Ghint, a thief is a thief whether she steals half a green pickle or a whole pink pig.” He shook his stick at Kale. “And those that aid and abet ’em are just as bad.”
Maye Ghint turned her stern gaze upon Kale.
The woman’s speculative stare raised a blush to Kale’s cheeks. She tried to assume an air of confidence but knew she must look like a clown. She’d hastily thrown on her cape, and it hung cattywampus. She cuddled a shivering doneel child against her chest. Perching on her shoulders, two dragons each held a tuft of Kale’s hair in a forepaw. She’d tried to break them of this habit that began when they came to The Hall. Not only did it look silly, but occasionally they pulled.
And if that weren’t enough, Gymn had knocked her leecent hat crooked when he flew up. With one hand, Kale straightened her cap. She nodded to the owner of the inn and smiled.
Tellowmatterden cleared his throat and took a step toward the guards. “She’s obstructing justice, that she is!”
The captain grimaced. “Would that be Mistress Ghint or the leecent who is obstructing justice, Master Tellowmatterden?”
“Why, they both are, come to think of it. Ye should arrest ’em all. Haul ’em before the magistrate.”
The captain narrowed his eyes. “I’m thinking of the law that says a citizen shall not slander nor malign, but allow truth to be established without rancor.”
Tellowmatterden’s face screwed up in a fierce glare. His lips pressed together in a straight line, and he said no more.
The captain confronted Kale. “Did you know this doneel child was the one sought by the guard?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you hid her?”
“Yes sir, but from the merchant, not the guard.”
The man wrinkled his brow. “How is that?”
“I didn’t think it out exactly, sir. But I didn’t want the angry man to hurt her. I thought I could figure how best to help her once the immediate danger had passed.”
Kale
glanced at Dar and Maye Ghint. Both wore approving expressions, which gave her courage.
“I knew I could consult at least two people who have more experience than I do.” She nodded toward Dar. “My friend served as adjunct to Paladin before we came to The Hall. He’s given me good advice in the past.” She nodded to the proprietor of the inn. “The man who brought me to Vendela a year ago, Farmer Brigg, told me if I ever got into trouble to find Maye at The Goose and The Gander.”
A look of interest crossed the matron’s face as her features softened.
Kale hunched her shoulders and sighed. “I wasn’t really thinking all this when I took the little girl under my cape, but Paladin once told me that I had acted well when I acted quickly, and I guess that gave me confidence. And the criminal…”
She held the little girl away from her for just a moment to show the unthreatening nature of the small culprit. Toopka whimpered pathetically and ducked her cute, furry head, a gesture bound to appeal to the sympathies of those watching.
“Well, Captain,” Kale continued, “she didn’t seem to be a dangerous sort who needed to be apprehended at that very moment.”
The guard’s stony expression chilled Kale. She suspected she’d be hauled off to court.
After a long moment, the guard’s narrow eyes shifted right, then left. In a lowered voice, he said, “You’ve met Paladin?”
Kale nodded. “Twice.”
“Ha!” The tumanhofer glared up at the captain. “Don’t listen to ’er lies. Take ’er to the jail. Put ’er before the magistrate.”
“I would be that magistrate.” An older emerlindian man stood at his table, leaving his afternoon tea unfinished. He cast a long, thin shadow across the lawn. His intelligent face was darkened with age. His brown eyes glittered cold, holding no humor. “I’ve had quite enough of your loud posturing, Tellowmatterden.”
Maye Ghint stepped forward. “I apologize that you’ve been disturbed, Magistrate Hyd.”
The man held up his hand, and she was silent. He looked at Kale. “Young lady, come here.”
Kale obeyed.
“Who gave you the cape?” he asked.
“Granny Noon.”
“A moonbeam cape cannot be stolen.” He stated the fact with a powerful voice that reached those all around. His eyes remained on Kale. “What is your name, child?”
“I am Kale Allerion. Leecent Kale.”
The man’s eyebrows twitched upward, and a new gleam entered his eyes. “You will do well to follow closely the teachings of Paladin and remember Wulder in all your dealings.”
This phrase was often spoken among those at The Hall. Kale nodded obediently.
Magistrate Hyd lifted a hand and pensively stroked his smooth dark chin. He studied Kale until she wanted to squirm under his gaze.
Finally, his eyes shifted to Toopka, and he spoke. “Are you an orphan?”
She gave a quick nod and clung to Kale, her fingers tightening on the cape.
The magistrate’s attention came back to Kale. “You will take the doneel child as your charge.”
Kale jerked at the command. “But—”
“Dar will assist you.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor,” Kale tried again. “But I—”
“You are fully capable of this charge, Kale Allerion. Do not turn back what has been given you.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Magistrate Hyd looked over her shoulder. “I believe an escort has arrived from The Hall. Good day, Kale.”
“Good day, Your Honor.” Kale turned away as the magistrate sat back down.
Maye came forward to offer fresh hot tea and nordy rolls, warm and fragrant from the inn’s oven. The guards put a hand on each of the disgruntled tumanhofer’s arms and guided him toward the door. Dar watched with a pleased grin on his face. As Kale turned her head to see the guards escort Tellowmatterden through the center doorway, she lost her own smile. Next to the inn stood the representative of The Hall.
Kale caught a groan before it escaped her throat.
Lehman Bardon, the only o’rant in The Hall who treats me like I don’t exist. He never speaks to me. He looks right through me when we pass in the corridors. And now he looks like he swallowed a drummerbug. What else could go wrong?
3
THE MURAL
Bardon bowed in the magistrate’s direction and then nodded to Kale and Dar. Kale wondered how anyone could gaze upon the festive garden with so little interest. Guests and serving maids wore colorful attire. A sweet fragrance rose from the flowers. Guitarists provided lilting music. Lehman Bardon looked as if nothing made any impression on his wooden soul.
Kale frowned at the grim lehman.
Dar raised a hand, acknowledging the escort from The Hall. “One minute, Bardon,” he said. “I wish to thank the magistrate for his intervention.”
Well now, Bardon can’t like that. Dar is only a leecent and Bardon is a lehman. Surely, Dar should have called him by his title. And shouldn’t a leecent jump to do whatever a lehman wants?
Kale watched Bardon’s face for a reaction. Not a muscle twitched. He nodded solemnly and stepped out of the way of a maid carrying a tray of tall glasses.
Hmm? Our teachers keep reminding Dar of his new humble rank. But I bet Bardon lets Dar do what he wants, then reports his misconduct. He’s an official monitor, and everyone says that’s just a fancy name for a snitch.
Dar approached Magistrate Hyd and engaged the man in conversation. As a diplomat for his region, Wittoom, the doneel had traveled to every large metropolis and visited the courts of many rulers.
Kale admired Dar’s way with words. He could talk to a turnip farmer, a wizard, or a king and never utter an inappropriate comment. Dar could act like a noble, fight like a knight, and play like a peasant. He enjoyed everything he did, and he did most things well.
Gymn and Metta flew off Kale’s shoulders. She was about to call them back when she saw what had attracted their attention. A serving maid stood in the window of the Gander with a platter. She put it down on the broad sill, and the dragons landed on either side.
The blond maid dipped a curtsy to the small dragons and giggled when they inclined their heads toward her, thumping their tails once in a friendly greeting.
“The mayor in the town where I grew up had a minor dragon,” she said. “She was blue and predicted the weather.”
Someone called from inside the inn. The maid smiled at Metta and Gymn. “Enjoy your treat.” She glanced up at Kale and winked before returning to her duties.
Dar was still talking to the magistrate. Bardon stood stiff and unyielding. So, holding the doneel orphan close, Kale joined her dragons. She saw the maid had placed a mound of pudding in the middle of the plate and sprinkled it with shaved cardonut. It looked like an island covered with grass in the middle of a brown lake of ale. With typical dragon enthusiasm for food, Metta and Gymn lapped at what was called poorman’s dessert.
“I’m hungry,” said Toopka.
Kale patted the small child’s back. “I thought your tummy was full of pickle.”
Toopka flashed a mischievous grin. “That was an hour ago.”
“Stealing is not right.”
“I know.” Toopka’s face fell. “Most of the grocers leave food behind the stalls for those who have to forage. Master Tellowmatterden doesn’t.” A grin peeked from under her furry top lip. A twinkle lit her eyes. “And he hollers so loud and gets red. It’s fun to watch him stomp around.”
“It is still wrong to steal.”
“Paladin says to feed the orphans and widows.”
Kale wondered if that was written in one of the books that sat on her desk in The Hall. “Even if he does,” she said slowly, “you should take what is given to you. You shouldn’t steal from Tellowmatterden.”
“I wish you would quit calling it stealing. It was more for fun than stealing.”
“If it’s stealing, it has to be called stealing.”
Toopka gave a great sigh and laid
her head on Kale’s shoulder. “I’m still hungry.”
A serving maid passed by just at that moment. Kale suspected Toopka had timed her declaration. The young woman stopped, picked a delicate finger sandwich off her tray, and handed it to the little doneel. Toopka accepted it with one of her winning smiles and a polite, “Thank you.” She nestled in Kale’s arms and chewed with contentment and a great deal of lip-smacking.
Leaning against the wall next to the window, Kale surveyed the people around her in the garden. A marione family with small children sat at a table. The father said something, and the others laughed. Their relaxed, friendly faces reminded Kale of the mariones she had met at Lee Ark’s home. Unlike the people in River Away where she was raised, these mariones enjoyed each other and life in general. Even though they lived in the shadow of the evil wizard Risto’s domain, Lee Ark’s family still managed to smile.
Gathered around another smaller table, four kimen women and several children sipped their tea and ate spicy hard cakes known as daggarts. Kale sniffed the air, wishing she could smell the fragrant morsels. Instead the strong odor of malty ale from the dish at her elbow assaulted her. Wrinkling her nose, she frowned as her dragons slurped the treat.
A roar of laughter from inside the Gander caught her attention. Through the window she saw a dozen men lounging around rough wooden tables in a dim room. A cold fireplace stood against one wall, and a mural covered another. Kale leaned in for a better look.
In the tavern in River Away, there had been a similar mural. Kale had thought nothing of the picture. But during her adventure, a quest to find a meech egg and deliver it to Wizard Fenworth, she had found herself in a real scene that looked very much like the picture on that tavern wall.
She squinted at the mural inside the Gander. A boat moved across dark waters. A tapered line of light from a full moon made a path across the water and illuminated the prow. Two figures sat at the front. One looked like her friend Dar. Kale moved to the open door of the Gander. She had to see who else was in the boat.
With Toopka’s thin arms snug around her neck, she slipped along the wall of the busy room. On the other side of the mural wall, the hallway passed through the center of the building. The painting covered the entire length. Gently rolling waves extended from one end to the other. White foam capped some of the waves.