Totobee-Rodolow had picked up the pace. “Come along, darling. Our next stop will be so much more entertaining.”
No longer strolling, but almost sprinting, Bixby worked to keep up. She had little time to inspect the houses, shops, people, and conveyances they passed. She did note that several dragons walked on the street beside important-looking people. She might look important as well if she weren’t jogging to keep up with an elegant, dignified dragon.
Panting, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“To eat.”
“Why must we hurry?”
“We are going to the Sky Realm, a very busy restaurant. We want to beat the crowd and get a good table.”
Bixby had very little experience eating in places where one paid for the food. She imagined some tables being fancy and others being plain, but this didn’t seem likely. “Are some tables better than others?”
“Of course not, darling. Some tables are situated so that one can see everyone else in the room. Some are tucked back a little along the side so one can eat without being on display. And some tables are next to the paths that waiters and customers traverse as they go about their business. It’s annoying to be where the traffic is heavy, unless you want to waylay someone you expect to encounter at the Sky Realm.”
Bixby gave up trying to keep up with Totobee-Rodolow and grabbed hold of her arm. The dragon hardly noticed. Bixby was able to float with her feet barely skimming the cobblestones. Her parents had not been favorably disposed toward her ability to float. Perhaps, since it was one of the talents her mother did not possess, they were prejudiced. She saw no harm in discreetly rising above the ground, but her mother thought it could draw undue attention to her daughter. And her father was all for being inconspicuous when not performing royal duties.
She knew if anyone wondered about the two racing down the street, that person would think the girl was unusually graceful. If she had time, Bixby could lengthen some of her skirts and float higher. But it wouldn’t do for her to let anyone catch a glimpse of the space between her toes and the pavement.
Bixby caught her breath and was able to pepper Totobee-Rodolow with more questions. “There is no real sky realm, is there? I’ve never heard of one.”
“No, just the nine planes in our planetary system. Our sun does have other sets of planes, but none are called sky realms.”
This was one of the academic subjects Bixby had loved. “I studied those in school. Not that I actually went to a school. But my tutors provided those geography, astrology, and general science lessons.”
“When you were two?”
Bixby heard the sarcasm in Totobee-Rodolow’s voice. The dragon knew way more about Bixby’s upbringing than Bixby had relayed. She wondered how much information the dragon pulled from her thoughts and how much she had learned from other sources. Keeping her secrets had become difficult, but Bixby trusted Totobee-Rodolow not to tell.
Bixby lowered her voice. “I was probably five when I finished those studies. I remember kicking up a fuss because my mother wouldn’t take me to any planes but the ones in our stack.”
“And you wanted to see them all.”
“Exactly.”
They turned a corner. The dragon pivoted so quickly, Bixby swung out like a ball on a string. Her collection of lace skirts fluttered like flags. She managed to get herself perpendicular to the sidewalk, but glanced around to make sure no one had seen the mishap.
When she looked straight ahead again, she felt her mouth drop open. “There must be a thousand people on this street. How far to the restaurant?”
“About twenty-two steps. And, darling, there are not more than two hundred as far as we can see. There might be more down in the shopping district.”
“Shopping?”
“The best. Perhaps tomorrow.” Totobee-Rodolow stopped in front of a beautifully carved entry. Tropical trees curved over an arch made by two glass doors. Bushes and birds embellished the sides. A huge frog sat under one of the leaves near the base of the carving. Rich green tones accentuated the depressed areas, while the figures were polished a honey gold. Extending from the top of the entry to a roof overlaid with glittery gold tiles, a thick blue paint textured the outside of the building. A few lighter areas suggested clouds, and birds in flight crossed between windows.
A doorman pulled open one glass door and gestured for the ladies to enter.
Suddenly, he held his hand up, palm toward them. “Excuse me,” he said when they stopped. He looked carefully into the dragon’s face. “Forgive my impudence, but could you be Totobee-Rodolow?”
SEEING BUT UNSEEN
A quick glance at Totobee-Rodolow proved the dragon to have retained her composure. Bixby held her breath and tamped down the urge to flee.
Had someone from Effram sent spies to find them and prevent their reporting the injustices in that plane? The council could overturn a wicked ruler. History books told of earlier times when none of the ruling classes would dare ignore the council’s mandates. Although, somewhere in ages past, the council had become the backbone of evil regimes, supporting instead of thwarting corruption.
Totobee-Rodolow smiled graciously and bobbed her head. “Yes, I am.”
He stepped closer and spoke in hushed tones. “Madame, it is me, Clarart. Do you remember me?”
“Of course I do, darling.” She put a hand on his arm. “You are still dear to me. We must talk.” She looked around, then patted his arm and let go. “We will be discreet. Are you on duty for the rest of the night?”
“Yes, Madame.”
She beamed at him, and Bixby noted again that her toothy smile just didn’t have the usual dragon fierceness. “You’ve advanced in positions since I saw you last. Marvelous. I’m so glad for you. I will slip you a note when we leave so that we can have a long chat tomorrow. You must fill me in on the things I should know.”
“With pleasure, Madame.”
Bixby trailed Totobee-Rodolow into the restaurant, now stepping on the polished wood floor instead of floating. The maitre d’ also recognized her dragon friend and fussed over her long absence.
“We are so glad you have returned to us. Let me get you your favorite table, and perhaps some of the Dirogne valley wine.”
“Thank you, Finnry, I haven’t had a glass of that divine nectar for years. I think since the last time I was here.”
A waiter appeared to guide them to a table, but it took ten minutes to cross the room. Many people stopped their progress to say a word to her temporary constant. Totobee-Rodolow smiled pleasantly, obviously remembered each person, and introduced Bixby D’Mazeline as her friend. She sidestepped every reference to whether she had returned for good or only for a visit.
Bixby swallowed often and offered only minimal comments. She’d attended social gatherings at home, but these strangers seemed to have an even higher standard of behavior than her mother. She wished she’d listened just a tad more attentively when her mother explained council town etiquette. It all seemed like so much posturing and the production of great walls of façade.
They finally took a seat, Totobee-Rodolow directing her to a chair on the back side partially in the shadow of a tall fern. Bixby hoisted herself up, with her legs tucked underneath her in order not to look like a child at the table. She hated to sit with her chin next to her plate.
The dragon eased her long body into a special chair on the same side, but in the light. Her scales glimmered in peacock colors. Her face bore slanted eyes with a thick fringe of eyelashes. Dragons didn’t ordinarily have eyelashes or eyebrows. Totobee-Rodolow evidently felt that was a mistake, as she often shape-shifted lashes. For eyebrows, she simulated a ridge of darker scales above her eyes. Along with her fashionable form, she elongated her tail to gracefully wrap around the table’s base.
The waiter bowed. “I will bring you the wine, Madame.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as he was beyond hearing them, Bixby whispered to Totobee-Rodolow. “I don’t drink alco
hol. It messes up my gifts.”
“Neither do I, darling.”
“But — ”
“It’s a code, darling. They will bring us a bubbly, clear beverage that tastes divine and has no alcohol whatsoever. This is a dangerous town, little one, and more dangerous if you do not have your wits about you.” She patted Bixby’s hand. “Now in that wonderful hamper of tiaras and crowns, do you have a circlet that obscures your presence?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, dig it out and put it on, darling. I want you to see the people I point out to you and remember them, but I don’t want them to take particular notice of you.”
Bixby put on two circlets, one in gold and the other in silver. They were both simple with a minimum of fashioned leaves and tiny flowers. The silver tiara would help her remember everything Totobee-Rodolow said.
The waiter returned with two glasses and a bottle. He looked at the second glass when he placed it on the table as if it were there by mistake.
Totobee-Rodolow nodded toward Bixby. “My friend.”
“Ah, yes.” He did his little bow of acknowledgment.
Bixby thought the tight gesture possibly did wonders for his figure. His stomach muscles must be solid. To her, he looked unusually athletic in build, considering he carried bottles and dishes around for a living. She didn’t have much muscle. Well, she did have some skinny flesh on her tiny bones, but to call them muscles was laughable.
She wondered if she should have tried food service. She knew how to cook, but serving might have given her another perspective. Ah well, there was still plenty of time to try something new after this adventure.
The waiter opened the bottle and poured the liquid into Totobee-Rodolow’s glass. She sipped it and nodded. He almost left the table, but the dragon reminded him to pour the beverage for Bixby. That quickly, he had forgotten she was there.
Another waiter came by and recited a list of items being served that evening. When Totobee-Rodolow ordered two entrées he looked a bit concerned.
“Our dragon-size portions are ample, Madame. They tell me that you were a frequent patron of the Sky Realm some years ago. Our quality and service are the same now as then.”
Totobee-Rodolow laughed lightly, the sound almost like tiny bells. “Have you forgotten my friend?” Again she nodded toward Bixby.
Bixby smiled and waved at the astonished man.
“Oh, I am so sorry, miss. I can’t think how I — I . . .”
“We haven’t taken offense,” said the dragon. “Run along. We’re starved, and I’ve promised Miss D’Mazeline a wonderful meal.”
While they waited, Totobee-Rodolow pointed out different officials, diplomats, councilmen, and, with humorous antecdotes, some eccentric characters.
She waved to a female dragon draped in fluttery chiffon and took the moment to educate Bixby. “Mor dragons like Sallytime-Effinlow attend all the gala events and gather bits of information. They piece together scraps of gossip. Usually these society spies end up with a pretty clear picture of what goes on behind the propaganda issued by the authorities.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Indeed, very. But they’ve written their insurance policies in documents that would be released should they die unexpectedly.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The mor dragons write out what they know and keep it hidden. As long as they’re alive, the information isn’t general knowledge. Should some reprobate want them dead in order to eliminate their intrusion, he’s restrained by the knowledge that all his misdeeds will be put before all the citizens once the mor dragon is dead. It’s in the villain’s interest to keep the mor dragon alive, thus the hidden information is called ‘insurance.’ ”
A gleam came to the dragon’s eyes. “Look who just came in.”
Bixby’s head swiveled, and she rose up a little to get a clear view. “That man with the white coat and tan pants?”
“The light is tricky in here, darling. The coat is light yellow and the pants are darker yellow. The man is Krogerill Sandsyellow. He claims he is half mor dragon. Impossible, but I do believe he believes his lies after all these years. Don’t worry your head about him. He’s perfectly harmless, just needs attention.”
Their meal arrived, delivered by a different waiter. Totobee-Rodolow had to point out that her friend sat beside her and would like her dishes to be placed accordingly.
Bixby smiled good-naturedly at the man’s discomfort, hoping to ease his embarrassment. Previously, when she’d worn the obscuring tiara, she hadn’t kept popping out of the background to be noticed.
The food reminded Bixby of the cuisine of her parents’ home. Their talented cook assembled tender meats, steamed vegetables, luscious fruits, and delectable desserts. Totobee-Rodolow had kindly ordered food that Bixby had been missing, dishes popular in her homeland.
Three men and a lady in somber attire entered and sat on the stage. They pulled out large instruments from small hampers and played softly as the restaurant filled with patrons in high spirits. Totobee-Rodolow continued her identification of the people and dragons she recognized.
“It’s a shame, darling, that I can’t name everyone in the room. I’ve been away too long. But tomorrow, Clarart will give us up-to-date information.” She paused, looking at the door. “Aha, at last, here is the person who knows how to reach Dukmee.”
“Are you going to send for him? Will you wave him over if he looks this way? Perhaps I should go speak to him?”
Totobee-Rodolow hushed her. “No, no, no, darling. There is no need. He will see that we are here, and he will tell Dukmee. Tomorrow or the next day, Dukmee will contact us.”
“But I have on the obscure tiara. He might not notice me.”
“Not this one. No, this one will see you in spite of the shadow protecting you. He is a great one.”
“His name?”
“At this time?” The dragon smiled, lips curved, head tilted, and a dreamy look in her eye. “I have no idea what his name is at this time.”
“Since we aren’t going to talk to him, can we leave now? I’m very tired.”
“Oh no, darling, that would never do. If we left right after he arrived, people who notice things like that might assume there is a connection. We mustn’t let them prattle.” She gestured to the waiter. “We shall have our sweet and then depart.”
Bixby sat in silence while nibbling on a dessert of hot chocolate sauce over a delicious mocha cake layered with pudding. Her stomach protested, and she put down her spoon. Totobee-Rodolow continued to savor her portion. For just a moment, Bixby marveled over the amount of food dragons consumed. Then she turned her attention to the crowd in the room.
The number of patrons entering diminished, and some of the early arrivals left. Bixby reviewed the names and information she’d acquired on each person who remained. She caught some people watching Totobee-Rodolow, but none who noticed her, until she came to the man with no name.
He wore fine clothing over a medium, stocky build. Bixby surmised that muscle made up his bulk, because his face showed no evidence of fat. His dark, straight hair parted in the middle and draped over his collar. Smooth eyebrows, a straight nose, planed cheeks, lips ready to smile, and a stubborn chin combined to make a very attractive man. Though she couldn’t even see the color of his eyes, they claimed her attention.
He looked directly at her. Their eyes met, and she reached to connect with his mind. Just like with Dukmee, she encountered a wall.
He smiled, winked, then shifted his gaze away. She felt like she’d been politely dismissed. Her fatigue slipped away, replaced by energy to move and move quickly. Enthusiasm for being a walker and solving problems throughout the realms bubbled through her veins.
Totobee-Rodolow’s hand rested on her arm.
“Calm down, darling. His effect will send you rushing from one good deed to another if you let it. Take deep breaths and restore quiet in your soul. You’ll be a better walker if you work from a cent
er of peace. Frenzied do-gooders do great harm.”
“How do you know him?”
“He rescued me from my former life as a constant.”
THE SUN RISES
Bridger slept well. Cantor knew because he observed the dragon . . . all night. The great beast breathed slowly, resting deeply, with only an occasional snort, while Cantor tossed and turned all night. He had disturbed the gentle Jesha’s rest several times. When he turned over and grunted, the cat had given him impatient looks. With obvious disdain for Cantor’s lack of manners, she stood and stretched and settled herself again on Bridger’s back just behind the dragon’s folded wing.
He tried to engage his mind in a useful pastime, to make plans to search for Ahma, refusing to believe they would find her remains in the debris. But his attention flitted from mission to memory like a leaf in an autumn breeze.
From long experience, he knew the sunlight would bathe the house when it came up in the morning, giving them plenty of light to search for clues about Ahma’s whereabouts. Those pleasant early rays had warmed the cabin after many a frigid night.
He thought of the hundreds of mornings when he had awakened to the bright light streaming in the windows, and to the smell of coffee and bacon. Ahma sometimes sang in the morning, and he would join her before he even rolled out of bed.
She told him that his name meant singer, a special singer. A cantor led others singing praises to Primen in houses of worship. He’d never seen such a house, but Ahma assured him that he would see them in Gilead.
This morning the sun did wake him, so he must have finally dozed off. He sat up and looked around the yard and buildings that had been home to him for many years. Without Ahma or the animals, and with the cabin a burnt and collapsed shell, no tender feelings urged him to stay.
Bridger made breakfast while Cantor examined the inside of the house. He looked for a clue that would tell him how the fire started. He looked again outside for a note or notice from Ahma. And most of all, he looked for bones.
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