Something glimmered for a moment, and Bealomondore glimpsed long, straggly white hair draped over a black coat. The urohm had already turned away. A glow came from a lumpish figure on Old One’s shoulder. The urohm stepped farther into the shadows, and Bealomondore could no longer see him.
A light dragon. Bealomondore puzzled over the possibility. Old One had a light dragon? None of the dragons of the watch had mentioned another dragon in Rumbard. Not even Det and Laddin had revealed this one’s existence. Bealomondore concluded that either he was mistaken and the glow had not been a light dragon riding the old man’s shoulder, or the light dragon was as reclusive as his companion.
He knew minor dragons to be a very social group. On top of all the questions that had been stirring his thoughts for the months he’d been here, a whole new set strung out along this line of reasoning. He hoped Old One had suddenly become communicative.
“Bealomondore,” Ellie called.
He followed the sound of her voice. The kettle boiled. She’d put cups and saucers and the fancy china teapot on a tray and arranged six daggarts on a pretty plate. She held spoons in one hand and a sugar bowl in the other. Her face showed signs of a tearful eruption about to surface.
She pointed with the spoons to the tray. “It’s too heavy for me to carry it all.”
Bealomondore wondered if he should reassure her that everything would be all right. Somehow those words had never made him feel better. “I’m sorry. I should have offered to carry it.”
She clenched the spoons until her knuckles turned white. Leaning closer to Bealomondore, she whispered, “What do you think he’s upset about?”
“I have no idea.” He thought about the old man for a moment. “It might be he’s made up something to justify his accepting the opportunity to have tea and daggarts.”
She put the sugar bowl and spoons on the tray. “He did say he knew we had the daggarts. Do you suppose he was watching for us to return?”
“Perhaps. He was looking out the window when I came toward the library. However, he looked outraged and not the least bit glad.”
“Oh, I hope this wins his friendship. Everything would be so much more pleasant then.”
“We’ll give tea and daggarts a try.”
He lifted the tray, and Ellie, carrying the plate of daggarts, followed him to the rotunda. The gentleman had not yet appeared. Bealomondore returned for the kettle and a small chair.
Ellie scurried behind him, carrying the second seat. “I’ll feel more dignified sitting in a chair my own size.”
Bealomondore agreed, although on his own he probably wouldn’t have thought of his dignity being compromised by huge furniture.
This time, when they rounded the last corner, Old One sat in the chair they had always assumed was his favorite. Ellie caught a gasp before it flung itself out of her mouth and embarrassed her.
She had expected him to be huge, but she doubted her head was much higher than his knee. If he struck a blow to one of them, there would be no waking up. But he looked peaceful enough, even with his sour face.
He wore old-fashioned clothing that reminded her of the mayor of their little village. That should have made her less timid, but she’d never liked the mayor. Old One’s shoes were polished, and his hair gleamed in the light of the afternoon sun.
Blinking, Ellie focused on Old One’s shoulder. A truly ugly minor dragon perched there, looking Ellie over as much as Ellie stared at him. While brilliant clear colors sparkled in the scales of the dragons of the watch, this poor thing had only gray highlighting his wings. The dragon looked like a dirty old rag. It turned its head away.
A horrible thought went through her head. Oh, dear. I hope I haven’t hurt its feelings.
His head jerked back.
“His feelings,” she heard in her mind. “I am male. My name is Orli, which means ‘light unto you.’ ” The dragon winked. “You shall see beauty when and if I ever shine in your presence. It will be worth the wait.”
Ellie swallowed what felt like her heart in her throat and tried to look brave and unconcerned as she followed Bealomondore to the table. He placed the kettle on the center table next to the tray and bowed to Old One. He made a second bow to Orli.
Ellie clasped her hands and curtsied first to the urohm and then to his dragon.
The performance of a common curtsy made her feel less timid. She decided to test to see just how unobliging this old man was.
“Would you pour from the kettle to the teapot?” she asked. “It’s too heavy for us when it’s so full.”
Old One narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment. He then grasped the kettle, lifted the lid on the teapot, and poured in the steaming water. He put the lid back and set the kettle down.
“There,” he said. “I’ve done your duty as hostess.”
Ellie lowered her chin to avoid giving away her annoyance. She bit her lip and willed Bealomondore to take over the conversation. He jumped in immediately, and she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts as he had earlier. Or was his intervention coincidence?
Bealomondore talked easily, never allowing a long silence to become uncomfortable. He spoke of Chiril and the recent war, the wizard from Amara, and Paladin, who strove to introduce ignorant Chirilians to their Creator. Several times, Ellie felt tension in Orli, though she heard no words. And when she glanced at Old One, his face appeared to have frozen in a disapproving glare.
The tea steeped. When the aroma tickled her nose and told her the flavor should be just right, Ellie poured from the teapot to the cups. She worried that Old One would be hard to please and remembered all the things her mother had said about a proper tea. She offered Old One sugar. He took two spoonfuls. She passed the daggarts, and he took three.
That left a daggart apiece for her and Bealomondore. And one more. She offered the plate to Orli first. He looked up at her in surprise. She broke the daggart into pieces and put them on a napkin on the table. Orli flew down to enjoy the treat.
Ellie handed the plate with two daggarts to Bealomondore.
“Would you like tea as well, Orli? I’m sorry I did not think to ask before.”
She got his answer. “Yes, in a saucer, please, with a little sugar.”
“What is this?” demanded Old One. “How do you know his name?”
“He told it to me, sir.”
Orli concentrated on the piece of daggart in his hand, or rather, claw. Ellie thought his concentration was a little overplayed.
Old One glared at her, then at Orli, who didn’t appear to notice. Finally he expelled a growly sigh. “I shall not let this subvert my enjoyment of this tea. But I have not forgotten nor put aside this irregularity.”
Ellie bobbed her head, fixed a saucer of tea for Orli, and hurried to sit in the chair next to Bealomondore.
She held her teacup with two hands and enjoyed the warm brew. Her daggart tasted just as fresh as the ones she and Bealomondore had eaten from the oven. All the trouble they’d gone to paid off with each crunchy bite.
They didn’t converse while they ate. She brewed more tea, and they each had another cup. Orli had another saucerful.
When Old One finished his last daggart, he put down his saucer and cup, folded his napkin, and reestablished his crotchety expression.
Clearing his throat, he produced a voice to rival any judge of doom in a courtroom. “We must talk of what is allowed and what is not allowed. You have upset the citizens of Rumbard City.”
“Do you mean the children?” asked Bealomondore.
“Of course I mean the children.”
“I thought perhaps you referred to yourself and Orli. And maybe the dragons of the watch.”
“Bah! A worthless crew, that watch. They quit reporting to me a century or more past.”
A picture of Old One throwing shoes at the tiny dragons entered Ellie’s mind, and she gave a start of a chuckle that she tried to hide. Orli barely glowed, but with a pink pearlescence. Bealomondore snorted a wayward laugh as well
. Ellie looked at him, caught him looking at her, and they both burst into laughter.
Old One’s voice rose. “I’ve been watching you two. You have deplorable manners. Rummaging through my things. Cavorting and giggling and retaining no dignity, which is supposed to be displayed at all times in the great hall of books.”
His eyes went to a pillar, and a fiercer frown darkened his face. He stood and marched to the column, grabbed hold of an overgrown fern, and wrenched the branches downward. While holding the fanning leaves aside, he pointed to a sign.
With authority deepening his already impressive tone, he read. “A quiet voice and attitude are welcome in the library.”
Bealomondore managed to compose himself. Ellie chose to stare at her hands.
“So,” said Bealomondore respectfully, “you wish to speak to us about our treatment of the children and our lack of decorum in the library.”
Old One let go of the branches. They snapped back, whacking the pillar. An unusual sound followed as the sign tilted, then slid down to the floor, where it clunked.
“Yes!” Old One shouted. “The citizens of Rumbard City were left under my care, and you shall not distress them.”
Fire raced through Ellie, and she stood, her head tilted back so she could look directly in the urohm’s face. If she’d had time to clamber to a higher post, she would have. But anger fueled her tongue, and outrage spurred her on.
“You are in charge of those poor children? You’re responsible for their welfare? Sir! It is disgraceful. They are neglected. They’ve had no guidance. They live as animals in a pack, like wolves and muskoxen.”
“Muskoxen?” Old One looked at Bealomondore, who shrugged.
Ellie shook a fist toward the old urohm. “Those little children have no concept of right or wrong. They’re forced to fight for a portion of food. No one washes behind their ears. No one tucks them in at night. No one cleans a skinned knee and applies a bandage. You are in charge? You should be ashamed.”
Tears rolled down Ellie’s cheeks. She backhanded a swipe to get rid of them, but they flowed too heavily.
Still riding on a flow of fury, she asked, “Who put you in charge?”
“I don’t rightly remember. I think maybe it came to me by default. I’m the only adult left, you see. They’re an unruly bunch, you see. I gave up.”
Bealomondore stood and put his arm around Ellie. She tried to control the quivering of ire, and his warmth calmed her.
“We are aware of your status, sir,” said Bealomondore. “Perhaps we could be of assistance to each other.”
A glimmer of hope crossed the old man’s face. “Could be. Could be.” He paused, giving them an appraising stare. “Help to one another? Could very well be the best thing that has happened to me, your being trapped. But I don’t expect you to think of that as a good thing.”
Bealomondore looked at Ellie and smiled. “I’ve discovered that good things are found in the most unusual places.” He turned to the old urohm. “How may we be of service to you?”
“My first act of cooperation should be welcome in your eyes and a service to me. You see, I know of a place to bake daggarts, not nearly as far away as where you went. You should have asked. No harm in asking. Lot of difficulties when you run off, thinking you know it all.”
Ellie started to react, but Bealomondore squeezed her a tad, and Orli’s thoughts interrupted hers. The minor dragon reminded her that old age was a trial that Old One had borne all alone for far too many years. “Mercy. Compassion. Patience.”
She turned to Bealomondore and knew he’d heard exactly the same counsel. They might grow old together stuck in a bottle city, but at least they would have each other. They could give to this old man what didn’t cost them but a little kindness.
Today seemed like any other day in the library. Except for Old One sitting in the rotunda instead of lurking in the balcony shadows. Orli lay across the back of the old man’s chair. Ellie tried to concentrate on the reading before her, but she just couldn’t. She shifted in the overlarge chair, pulled a pillow on her lap, and rested the book against it. Her hands became sore after holding even the smaller books for several hours. She wouldn’t let that happen today.
She glanced back down at the handwritten pages. Why would she want to read a diary about things in the past when Old One sat right there in his chair? Why wouldn’t he answer questions? Bealomondore had gone to get breakfast, and she was left to pry some information out of the reticent old gent. Only the old gent wouldn’t cooperate. He wouldn’t answer even the simplest of questions.
She looked up and caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Are you ready to tell me your name?” she asked.
He humphed. “I told you yesterday.”
“You did not.”
He humphed again and turned a page in his book. “Why should I tell you my name when you haven’t had the courtesy to tell me yours?”
Ellie closed the diary and plopped it down on the cushion in her lap. “We told you our names when you first spoke to us from the balcony. And we told you again yesterday after tea.”
“I’ve never spoken to you from the balcony. Never spoke to you at all until you invited me to tea.”
She sighed. Old One was much more stubborn than she was. This conversation had gone a couple of rounds already, and they hadn’t had anything but tea yet this morning.
“My name is Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl. My friend’s name is Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore. And your name is?”
“What use is a name when no one is around to use it?”
“Bealomondore and I are here to use it.”
“You probably won’t stay. I wouldn’t stay if a way out presented itself.” He lifted his head. “Someone is coming.”
He looked disoriented, perhaps a bit scared. Orli stood and watched, apparently ready to spring into action. Ellie’s irritation dropped away. “It’s Bealomondore. He went to get our breakfast.”
“Breakfast is served upstairs. Always is.”
“So you’ve already eaten?”
He narrowed his eyes at her as if she had asked a trick question. Bealomondore came into the room with a large basket, the curved handle over his arm. “Lots of food this morning. I assume we are sharing with our host.”
“Me?” Old One closed his book. “I’m not your host.”
“Why not?” asked Bealomondore as he put his load down by the table and opened the lid.
“Because in order to be a host, one must have invited guests.” He looked pointedly at them. “I don’t recall inviting anyone.”
Bealomondore had his back to Old One and took advantage of his face being out of sight. He pulled an exaggerated grumpy expression that caused Ellie to stifle a laugh. To hide her merriment, she put the pillow and diary aside, scooted to the edge of the seat, and dropped to the floor.
“What do we have this morning?” she asked.
“Muffins and oatmeal,” Bealomondore said as he handed the first muffin to Ellie. “Fruit and hard-boiled eggs.”
“Old One says his breakfast is served upstairs. So he’s already eaten.”
“I didn’t say that.” He sounded gruff.
She turned to look at him. He always seemed so angry. She thought about their earlier exchange.
“You’re right. You didn’t say you already ate breakfast.”
The old urohm looked relieved, but like many of his expressions, the attitude passed so quickly that she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. His scowl decorated his face almost constantly. Of that she was sure.
“I know I didn’t eat because my stomach says it isn’t so.” He reached past them and began lifting things to the tabletop.
Her eyes caught Bealomondore’s, and again the feeling that he had thought the same thing she did fluttered in her mind. Since that first time when he had heard her thinking about talking to Tak, the feeling had repeated itself. Now he puzzled over why Old One phrased that last statement as he did. And she p
uzzled right along with Bealomondore. Didn’t the urohm know whether or not he had eaten? Did he need proof of an empty stomach to decide the answer?
Bealomondore shrugged and offered to give her a boost up. With his help, she climbed the wooden chair. He came after her, and they each sat on a book to lift themselves high enough to reach their breakfast comfortably.
Bealomondore commented on the walk he and Tak had taken that morning. He’d seen a few birds closer to the center fountain but not actually in the circle.
“I’ve rarely seen the birds land there,” he said, speaking directly to Old One. “Why is that?”
Orli turned his head, ears alert and seemingly interested in the conversation.
Old One bit into a parnot. “At least I still have all my teeth. Things don’t wear out. Shoes, clothes, beds, books, furniture, drapes, and rugs never get old or too shabby to keep. There’s always food, three times a day, unless those urchins don’t go to bed when it’s dark. Then there’s nothing the next day. Sometimes all day. Only thing that makes them follow a rule.”
Ellie and Bealomondore exchanged mystified glances. Was Old One deliberately avoiding the question, or was the gentleman confused?
Bealomondore’s gaze went back to the urohm. “Did you make that rule, sir? About going to bed?”
“No, I don’t make the rules around here. I don’t even try to follow them. Can’t remember half of them.”
He snapped his mouth shut on the last word.
Orli came to perch on Old One’s shoulder, snuggling close to his chin as if to comfort the old man.
Ellie smiled at Bealomondore. “I’d like to take a walk this morning.”
“Right.”
He was in tune with her. He knew she needed a talk more than a walk. This bond came in handy.
Bealomondore nodded. “Perhaps Old One could tell us about that place to bake daggarts. We could check it out for ingredients and equipment.”
“No need to go on a walk for that,” said Old One. “It’s upstairs, in the living quarters for the custodian.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Are you the library’s custodian?”