Cantor knew the right hand of Primen saw right through him. “Not exactly anxious . . . sir.”
The old man didn’t say anything, but waited.
“I’ve traveled with him for three years, one year with Bixby and two years on our own. I know how much trouble he can fall into without trying.”
Cantor reached under the tree limbs and picked up the cat. “I’m worried about Dukmee. Bridger might have led him into a fix.”
“Dukmee is well able to take care of himself.”
Cantor found himself blustering. Chomountain hadn’t had time to assess all of Bridger’s peculiarities. “Under normal circumstances, I would agree. But he’s not attuned to Bridger.”
“You are?”
“Yes, but not willingly. You have to know how Bridger thinks, or more often doesn’t think, in order to keep him and you out of trouble.”
“And you know Bridger this well?”
Cantor nodded. “Three years. I’ll repeat, not willingly.”
“And Dukmee? How well do you know Dukmee?”
“I know more about Dukmee than actually know him. He’s a healer, a scholar, a realm walker, a mage and, I suspect, a wizard.”
Chomountain nodded. “He’s a savant.”
Cantor searched his memory. “I think I’ve heard that word before. But I don’t remember in what context. It has something to do with the brain or how it’s used, doesn’t it?”
“That’s pretty close. A savant is a person who can use his or her brain with more efficiency than most of us. A savant can be brilliant in one area or many. A very long time ago, even before the last invasion of the Lymen, one particular race of people was known to produce many savants. In their society, a savant was more the norm than an ordinary child.”
“Is Bixby a savant as well?”
“Yes.”
“But she doesn’t know it, does she?”
Chomountain shook his head. “Her mother is gifted and found the talents burdensome. I believe she never told Bixby, in the hope that the awkwardness that plagued her life would not touch the life of her daughter.”
“How can you know all this about Bixby and her mother? You’ve been sequestered in this valley since before they were born.”
“As the right hand of Primen, I have access to a lot of knowledge — knowledge filtered through Primen and therefore reliable. I deemed it prudent to acquire background information on the people who came to rescue me.”
Cantor shoved that new revelation aside. He needed to concentrate on answers to the particular questions that already spun in his head. “Primen told you that Bixby’s mother didn’t tell her she was a savant to protect her?”
“No, that was a conclusion I drew for myself from what he did tell me.” Chomountain put a hand on Cantor’s shoulder and studied his face, his own expression grim. “What is it that troubles you?”
“I had hoped I could ask you where to find Ahma and Odem, and you would be able to tell me. But that’s not so, is it? Like Feymare, the Primen warrior, you communicate with Primen, but he doesn’t tell you what you want to know.”
“He tells us only what we need to know. He is authority without being boss. He is provider without being domineering. He is leader without being despot.”
With anger tightening his throat, Cantor’s voice dragged out of his mouth. “And he keeps secrets.”
“Not in a bad way, Cantor.”
“Well, since Primen isn’t likely to point us to Dukmee and Bridger, we’d best begin our search for them.”
“Right.” Chomountain used gentle pressure on Cantor’s shoulder to turn him and urge him toward the cabin. “Breakfast first. Bixby’s already cooking. The ruins next, don’t you think?”
“Do you feel something from the ruins? I haven’t been able to pick up anything from Bridger.”
“No, haven’t felt a thing. I guess I must be rusty. A long time has passed since I exercised the talents Primen bestowed upon me.”
“Or it could be there’s nothing to feel, which would mean —”
“That they’ve moved on and left us.”
“Or they’re dead.”
Chomountain arched a bushy eyebrow at him. “No need to be gloomy.”
Breakfast was quick. Bixby served coffee, bacon, and biscuits. With crumbs still in his beard, Chomountain went out to gather horses for the ride. Bixby and Cantor did a sketchy job of cleanup, and Neekoh joined them after doing the morning chores for the other animals.
He sat down to have more biscuits. “Your biscuits are better than any made by any of the rest of us.” He shoved another one into his mouth, chewed quickly, then drank from the pitcher of water. “I hear Chomountain coming.”
Bixby hung the rag she’d been using on a hook near the stove. “Sometimes your manners are atrocious, Neekoh.”
He grinned, picked up another biscuit, and headed for the door.
Chomountain sat astride Olido, the biggest horse. The size of the stallion reminded Cantor of Bridger when he was shaped as a war horse.
Neekoh walked in front of them, petting each, and whispering to them. They nickered in response, obviously liking the attention.
He grinned over his shoulder at Cantor. “I can ride any of the horses now. We’re all friends.”
Chomountain cast a fatherly eye on the young man. “You’ve made good use of your time here.”
“Thanks to you, sir. You’ve taught me so much.”
Cantor stepped forward and claimed Breez. “Let the lesson today be finding misplaced friends.”
Bixby laughed, skipped to Dani’s side, and leaped to a riding position on the horse’s back. She turned the mare toward the ruins and prodded her into a run.
“Well,” said Chomountain. “Are we going to let Bixby have all the fun?”
KABOOM!
I wonder if it’s night or day.” Bridger’s voice woke Dukmee.
His first urge was to stretch. He couldn’t. Nor could he yawn, shout, whistle, or release the globe still grasped in his hand. Awareness of his situation came quickly.
Using the blanket he’d found last night, Bridger propped Dukmee on his side on the floor of the chamber. He felt the cold, and the hardness of the floor pressed uncomfortably against his body. His hip and elbow on his down side ached.
Desperation clawed at his peace of mind. He needed to escape the physical imprisonment of his body and of the room. He had to be able to move, and they had to be able to leave this chamber.
As he had for hours the day before, he forced himself to concentrate on the globe and scan the information flowing before him. The words ran like ribbons crisscrossing up and down, and diagonally through the round instrument. He’d found that if his mind latched onto a phrase, that stream of words separated from the chaos and presented itself in page form closer to the front of the glass. When his attention lagged, the sheet slipped off, line by line, to become once more a part of the whole crazy, jumbled conglomeration of data.
Bridger passed his range of vision, jarring his concentration. He realized the dragon was feeling his way around the room, touching the wall as if hoping to trigger some sort of release mechanism.
That might not be such a bad idea.
When Bridger moved out of his peripheral vision, Dukmee returned his attention to the globe. This time he located a section he wanted to read with greater ease. His confidence rose. He extracted the next page in half the time. If he could have crowed, he would have when he discovered he could mark the information to come back to after putting it aside.
On the dragon’s second pass, Dukmee saw that he’d lowered the band of his tactile search. He gave a tacit approval of Bridger’s strategy.
As he again scanned the crystal, he spotted a ribbon that might lead to answers. He followed that information trail and found a startling revelation.
Oh no! Bridger must stop. Stop now! How do I reach him?
Dukmee focused all his efforts to speak to Bridger’s mind. He began the connection weakl
y, first feeling the dragon’s frustration. Next, he snatched a few stray thoughts from his mind. Just as he finally grasped a solid line of reasoning from Bridger, a flash of light jarred Dukmee’s concentration. Simultaneously, the thoughts faded away and visions emerged.
What was that? A ward breaking? A new ward springing into action?
Dukmee gasped. He could see exactly what Bridger saw, but the barrier to speak to the dragon’s mind still blocked his efforts. While seeing through Bridger’s eyes, Dukmee could not see the orb.
Large dragon hands with long, pointed claws eased along the wall, running across words, numbers, and symbols. The signs before the dragon duplicated the images Dukmee had seen within the globe.
Probably it’s the other way around. The globe has stored all the wall data. Oh, Bridger, you are so close. How can I warn you? No, no, no. There it is. Skip over the block with the crack drawn through the center. No!
Too late. The ground trembled, and with it Dukmee completely lost his connection with the dragon. A rumble rose from beneath Dukmee’s prone body. Dust and bits of stone showered down on his back.
Dukmee felt himself gathered into a ball. He expected his stiff joints to shatter as he folded in on himself, but with Bridger providing the energy to change positions, he felt no discomfort.
He’d closed his eyes against the debris, but opened them just a slit to see Bridger’s arm in front of his face. He still felt the disturbing shake of the world around him. He still heard the scrape and clattering of the shattered walls and ceiling. But he no longer felt pummeled by rock and grit. Bridger had made a covering out of his body and protected him.
As if intensifying in a planned crescendo, the noise surge peaked, then exploded. Kaboom!
Tremors resonated for ten, fifteen seconds.
The earth stilled. The building around them shifted and settled. Bridger’s body pulled away from its sheltering stance. Coughing, the dragon picked Dukmee up and carried him out to the expanse beyond the annihilated stone vault, where grass covered a little meadow and then climbed with the rising hill to the forest that towered over one side of the ruins.
Bridger, still coughing, placed Dukmee on the soft blades of fresh, green grass.
“I’m going —” He coughed and wheezed before he could finish. “Water.”
Dukmee heard the flap of leathery wings. Without thinking, he moved his head so he could follow the dragon’s flight. Realizing his freedom, he carefully sat up. He looked at the globe in his hand, grateful that it had not broken, then he set it down on the ground between his knees.
Laughing, Dukmee stretched out on his back and tilted his head to see the tops of the trees behind him. He rolled onto his stomach, then rolled again and sat up. Bridger approached from the opposite side of the city, gliding effortlessly as he came in for his landing.
“You’re sitting!” He thunked down on the ground beside Dukmee. “Are you thirsty? I can take you over to the stream.”
“I’m sitting, and I’m thirsty, and you can take me to the stream in just one moment.” He held up the sphere, which appeared golden and opaque in the sunshine. “I want to tell you what this thing we found is.”
Bridger nodded, his eyes trained on the globe.
“Inside this ball of glass,” said Dukmee in his most scholarly tone, “is all the information that was written on the walls of that chamber we were in.”
Bridger glanced at the building that was more ruined now than the rest of the ruins. “The walls that are no longer there.”
Dukmee followed his gaze. “Yes. I should think that the only way to access that data now would be by using this globe. Take it and gaze into its center for a minute.”
“It’s not going to strike me down, will it? Like it did you?”
“You’ve held it before. You’re safe. I want to see if you can delve into it, or if it takes a wizard to see the contents.”
Bridger gingerly took the globe, hastily looked inside, and then tried to push it back into Dukmee’s hands.
“Bridger, it’s not hurting you. Take a good look.”
The dragon twisted his face in protest, but peered within for a full minute. “Now can I give it back? I don’t see anything.”
Dukmee clasped the sphere and glanced within. The flow of words and pictures continued. This time he was able to break away at will. “The minute I touch it, I see what is within.”
The dragon didn’t seem to appreciate the wonder of the globe.
“Bridger! I glimpsed parts of the tomes we uncovered at the Library of Lyme. That could mean that not only the contents of that chamber, but the accounts from all those scrolls and books and everything are also in this sphere.”
Bridger slanted his eyes at Dukmee. “Did something fall on your head before I got to you?”
He reached over, and using a claw, carefully lifted Dukmee’s hair, examining his scalp. “You’ve got layers of grit, but I see no blood. Let me take you to the stream. You can get a drink, wash off the dirt, and you’ll feel better. Then we’ll go back to Trout’s —”
“Chomountain’s.”
“Cho’s place?” Bridger squinted his eyes as he examined Dukmee from head to toe. “We haven’t found Cho’s place yet. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Dukmee laughed, thoroughly pleased with himself for being able to move and for holding a library he could access in the palm of his hand.
Bridger frowned and put a steadying hand on the mage’s shoulder. “You might be a bit sick from that trance you were in. Bixby or Cantor or even Chomountain himself can talk to you about what you see. I’m taking you back to them right away.”
“No need.” Dukmee nodded toward the ruins. Neekoh, Bixby, Cantor, and Chomountain rode through the streets. The horses’ hooves clattered on the old stone pavement. As they passed the crumbled building, Bixby spotted them and pointed. Her grin brightened her face even from that distance. She waved, and the others turned to follow her lead up the grass slope.
Bridger stood. He waved back and gave a gasp of pleasure. “Oh, good, Neekoh has brought Jesha.” His glance swept the whole city. “Did you notice that none of the other buildings shattered like the one we were in?”
“The manufactured earthquake was designed to disintegrate the chamber if the wrong people were about to get their hands on the globe. You pushed a button that a scholar of the building would have known not to touch. The falling rocks were supposed to kill us.”
Bridger chortled and looked a bit smug. “Again, they did not count on a shapeshifting dragon to be one of the prisoners.”
“You’re right. And thank you for saving my life. You did it twice, you know.”
“I can be useful. Cantor doesn’t always think so.”
The small party on horseback trotted up the hill.
“Bridger!” Cantor’s voice rang across the distance. “What did you do?”
Dukmee stood, and leftover debris fell from his clothing.
As he rode up the hill in front of everyone else, Cantor frowned. He examined Dukmee’s state and turned to give Bridger a once over.
Dukmee brushed some of the dirt off the front of his tunic and then finger-combed his hair. Bridger had dunked himself in the stream and looked decidedly better than he did.
Cantor pulled up several yards away. “It looks like you tried to bury Dukmee alive.”
“No,” said Bridger, wagging his head back and forth. “I just pushed a button. That’s all.”
The dragon turned to Dukmee. “Climb on. I’m taking you to the stream now. It’ll give Cantor some time to cool off.”
“I can just tell him . . .”
“No, you forget that I’m his constant and attuned to him. He’s just happy I’m not hurt, and he’s angry because he’s been worried about me. It’ll be all right. Just climb on.”
Dukmee hoisted himself onto the dragon’s back.
As Bridger sprang into the air he called, “Going for a drink and a wash. We’ll join you on the trail back
to Cho’s.”
INITIAL PREPARATIONS
Bixby sat with her legs dangling off the table. With all of her friends in the cabin, there weren’t many choices for seats. Dukmee and Cantor sat on the edge of the bed. Every time Dukmee set the swinging mattress in motion, Cantor cast him a cantankerous look and stopped the swaying with a foot on the ground.
Dukmee hadn’t stopped fidgeting since Chomountain told him to wait a bit before sharing what he found in the ruins, and Cantor had been almost surly since the return of his dragon. After stopping the bed’s motion once again, he glanced up at the light over the table, disapproval clear on his face. Bridger hung from a beam. The dragon had shifted into a lovely chandelier with Bridger’s face looking down and a nice show of candles all around his head.
The only calm person was Neekoh, who sat on the floor, content to hold Jesha in his lap and gently rub her soft coat.
Amidst it all, Chomountain brought out a flat bag from under a cabinet. From inside the bag, he pulled out a dozen or more hampers of different sizes and shapes. He arranged them on the table next to Bixby. She hoped the contents were more remarkable than the containers, nearly all of which were very plain and boring.
Cho held a bag in his hands, examining the plain stitching. “One of the interesting aspects of my entrapment was the total lack of curiosity. I know I’ve stumbled across this collection of hampers three or four times a year, but I was never intrigued enough to open them.”
“I could embellish them for you if you like.” Bixby picked up a dull brown hamper. “Perhaps a yellow bird on a leafy green branch for this one — with lace, of course.”
“The bird and branch appeal to me, but not the lace.” Cho smiled at her, much as her favorite uncle did. Love covered the gaze that held just a bit of tolerance for a precocious child.
Tamping down resentment at his condescending humor, Bixby schooled her features into a cool smile. She did not appreciate being patronized.
He raised his eyebrows. “A bit of judgmental attitude being thrown back at me? Why do you think that because you amuse me, I am looking down at you?”
Bixby ducked her head. She’d rarely been caught before. Her nanny had taught her well to hide her more rebellious thoughts behind a neutral expression. “I’m sorry, sir. Many times people have scorned my offer to help, thinking my time spent in creating beauty is frivolous. Wasted time is a sin.”