Her shoulders drooped.
Bardon turned back to the protected ravine. “We’ll wait until dark.”
The horses nickered nervously.
“One moment, Bardon.” Kale lowered her voice. “The wolf is coming out.”
Bardon came back to stand at her side.
The black nose on a silky tan muzzle poked through the undergrowth. Kale and Bardon breathed softly and did not move. The wolf’s golden eyes peered at them, then he retreated into the bush and moved away.
“Oh, marvelous creature! Thank you.” She started after him. “He’s going to show us a back way into the burrow. No one will see us.”
They followed but at a distance. Brite still didn’t care for their company.
The ravine deepened. The wolf trotted ahead and remained out of sight. Kale trailed him by her sense of his being, knowing his direction without seeing him. Bardon, in tune with his wife’s instincts, kept pace. A mountain spring appeared, and the gorge changed directions, cutting back down the mountain. The wolf quickened his speed.
Bardon helped Kale over crumbling rock terrain. “Not afraid of leaving us behind, is he?”
“He’s hurrying to see Granny Noon. He’s almost forgotten about us.”
They scrambled to catch up.
Kale squeezed Bardon’s arm. “She’s there! He’s seen her.”
They pushed through the last thicket and saw the slight emerlindian stooped over a huge wolf, stroking his head and neck.
Startled, Kale realized Brite had suffered burns in the recent fire. His legs and underbelly displayed patches of pink, scarred skin. Singed fur and bare hide covered one flank.
The wounds had healed much more than one would expect. As Kale watched the wolf and the emerlindian interact, she knew Granny Noon must have found Brite on her doorstep and nursed him back to health.
The wolf pressed his head into the granny’s hand, bouncing on his feet and knocking against her legs.
“Easy, Brite.” Granny Noon giggled. “You’ll push me over.” She looked up and gestured to Kale and Bardon. “Come, I’ve been expecting you.”
Brite backed away and sat on his haunches. With his tongue lolling out, his expressive face looked happy.
Kale ran into Granny Noon’s embrace. “Oh my! You are so tiny.” Kale laughed. “I’d forgotten. Librettowit says emerlindians come in one width and two heights, always lean, but either five feet high or over six.”
Granny Noon’s arms tightened around Kale. “The librarian is right as usual. And I prefer to be shorter. My life in my lovely underground burrows would be complicated by a stretched-out frame.”
Her attention returned to the wolf. She gazed into his eyes for a moment, and then Brite bounded off the way they had come.
“He’ll go now to guard your horses,” she said and leaned back to get a better look at Kale. “You have grown, girl. When I first met you, you were a mere child. Now you’re a woman and married. Seven years? Yes, seven years since you first came to my door.” She patted Kale’s arm.
The seriousness of their mission descended upon Kale. “Granny Noon, we must find Regidor and Gilda.”
The old woman smiled serenely. “Surely finding a meech dragon and his lady should not be so hard. Although Regidor dresses to minimize his more startling features, he does tend to make a stir wherever he goes.”
“And he usually keeps in touch with us,” Kale said. “He drops in to visit. He sends messages. Gifts are delivered from all over the country. Librettowit receives rare books Regidor has stumbled across in his research. But we haven’t heard a thing from him in six weeks.”
Granny Noon tugged Kale gently toward the opening of her abode. “Coming, Bardon?”
“Yes.”
Kale continued, worry lacing her tone, “The last time I saw Gilda she was lethargic and a mere shade of her former self. I feared she would expire before too long. But we’ve found the cure, Granny Noon. And now we can’t find her!”
They passed through earthen tunnels with steps made out of roots, lit by blue lightrocks in lanterns attached to the wall.
“I would think,” said Granny Noon in a deep, soothing voice, “that Regidor would choose to spend the last days with his beloved somewhere safe and secluded.”
“Yes, but where?”
Granny Noon pushed the door to her rooms open. “Perhaps here.”
4
TEA, DAGGARTS, AND A MIRACLE
Kale ran into the room. It hadn’t changed much since her last visit. Earthen walls, wood furniture, colorful cushions, bright rugs, smells promising sweet treats, candles, books strewn around, and Regidor unfolding his long form from a two-seater sofa. Of course, Regidor had not been there before.
As familiar as she was with his appearance, the elegance of her former protégé never ceased to amaze her. At first glance he looked like a tall o’rant, but his leathery skin held a green cast, and he had no hair and no outer ears. His squarish nose was long, and his mouth was thin-lipped and wide. His smile looked either beguiling or sinister, depending on how comfortable one felt with this rare species of dragon. Kale’s heart filled with pride and love.
She hurled herself across the room and dove into his embrace. Her head rested against his broad chest. His arms encircled her and squeezed gently.
Bardon spoke from the doorway. “I’d tease you about manhandling my wife, but we really have come on urgent business.”
Kale pulled back from Regidor and looked frantically around the room.
“Where is she? Where’s Gilda?”
“In her bottle.” Regidor’s voice rumbled in his throat. “She hasn’t come out yet today.”
Kale reached into the hollow of her cape, a small portal to another dimension that she used for storage. She pulled out an ancient book.
She heard Regidor’s sharp intake of breath and saw the arrested look on his face.
He let out a question on a hiss of air. “Is that Sho?”
She nodded and extended her hand, offering the book as if it were the key to all wisdom. “Librettowit found this. It’s the original, third century, recorded in Sho’s own hand.” Her hope swelled, bringing tears to her eyes. “I’ve experimented, and we can do it, Regidor. We can save Gilda.”
Regidor did not take the book. Kale pulled it back, resting the heavy tome against her waist as she opened it to a place marked by a purple ribbon. With force, she thrust it into Regidor’s hands.
He frowned at her before allowing his eyes to examine the book. The meech dragon scanned down the page. His expression changed. “Cohesion!”
He called out the word Kale had finally latched upon after hours of study. Kale grinned, not at all surprised that her friend recognized the significance in a fraction of the time.
His hairless brow furrowed as he concentrated, and he mumbled as he read. “Yes!” He tapped the page with a clawlike fingernail. “Why didn’t I see this before? It makes perfect sense.” A growl emanated from his throat. “Wasted time. So simple.”
Kale bounced on her toes. It’s going to work. If Regidor thinks it will work, it will. Librettowit and I were right. Gilda doesn’t have to die.
Regidor placed the open book on a plain wooden table. He crossed the room to a bookshelf and retrieved a blue glass bottle inlaid with an intricate silver design. He held it to his chest for a moment, his expression shuttered, then brought it to Kale.
His green eyes twinkled as he removed a cork from the top. “My dear Dragon Keeper, I don’t believe I’ve introduced you to my wife.”
Kale blinked at the unexpected announcement and then grinned. A thin stream of vapor rose from the small opening and floated to the floor. The column retained its misty quality for a moment and gradually began to define the form of a tall female dragon who matched Regidor in exotic magnificence.
Still watching Gilda emerge from the cloud, Kale reached for her husband’s hand. He came to her side.
Bardon, do you see how long her transformation takes? Wh
en Risto first cast this spell upon her, she shifted back and forth without any apparent effort.
“She’s tired.”
She’s almost dead.
“We’re in time, Kale. Don’t despair.”
Why did she have to suffer so? And for so long?
He brought her hand up and placed his other hand over her tense fingers. “Risto held her in his palm, and when she decided to switch her allegiance to Regidor, he wanted to punish her. Nothing he could do would destroy her love for our meech friend, but Risto determined she would not enjoy that love. Of course, he underestimated both Regidor and Gilda.”
Why didn’t Paladin intervene? The only two meech dragons in Amara, and they couldn’t live normal lives.
“You know the answer to that.”
I do?
“Wulder had a plan.”
Another voice entered Kale’s mind. Gilda’s deep, almost sultry tones whispered in her consciousness. “I’m listening, Kale. Or did you think I would politely refrain from eavesdropping?”
Kale growled in her throat, a very tolerable imitation of Regidor’s choice means of displaying his displeasure. Gilda, I would never expect you to comply with rules of etiquette, if by doing so, you would be excluded from any information. She tried to sober her expression and failed. Her smile grew larger instead.
The translucent appearance of the female dragon’s face held a mocking air. “Ha! Compared to Regidor and Librettowit, you read nothing heavier than Tales of the Times.”
A court gossip sheet! Kale took a step forward, arms lifting, and stopped. She sighed. “I would love to hug you.”
Sadness fell on her friend’s demeanor. Gilda tilted her strange and exotic face and looked at Kale through thoughtful eyes. “And that embrace is impossible in my present state.”
Kale’s throat tightened, and tears pushed at the back of her eyes. What if the information they’d found didn’t work after all?
I mustn’t think like that. She gestured toward Regidor, who had moved to stand close to his wife. “You married Regidor? How imprudent. He must be a beast to live with.”
Gilda brightened. “Indeed. Paladin himself performed the ceremony.” She set her eyes upon her husband. “It was a simple affair. I wore a cloud. Regidor wore white court dress with silver and gold trim.”
Bardon choked on a laugh. “Simple? Silver and gold?”
Regidor nodded and allowed a small smile to part his lips. “With a touch of amethyst. Gilda’s cloud varied from elegantly understated cirrus to vibrant sunset hues.”
“Oh, you’re jesting.” Kale looked from one to the other. “Surely you can’t be serious?”
Bardon cleared his throat. “That was cirrus, as in wispy and ethereal. Not serious, at all.”
Regidor groaned. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have developed a sense of humor, Sir Bardon. It doesn’t wear well on you.”
Gilda perched on the edge of the table where Regidor had set her bottle. “I tire easily, dear friends. Why have you come? To pay your last respects?” Despite the gravity of her questions, her beautiful features flashed with a slight mischievous sparkle.
A nervous chill ran through Kale. She looked from Regidor to Bardon, then to Granny Noon. The old emerlindian offered her a tilted smile. “Don’t doubt your good news now. You may tell her, Kale.”
She took a deep breath and released it. She almost preferred to continue the pointless banter. Before she saw Gilda, she was confident of the cure. But now…
The expectant look on Gilda’s face pierced Kale’s heart. She had to speak. “We think we have found the process that will reverse the effects of Risto’s spell.”
Gilda spun around to Regidor. “Now?”
He inclined his head. “If you are ready.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Go back into your bottle one last time. When I call you out, you will form into the solid composition Wulder originally created.”
Gilda asked no more questions. The mist that imaged her body thinned and swirled upward, then poured into the blue bottle.
Kale and Regidor moved to the table, standing opposite each other. Gymn came to perch on Kale’s shoulder while the other minor dragons settled on Granny Noon, Bardon, and Kale. Granny Noon stood behind Regidor and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bardon stood close to his wife and encircled her waist with his arms. Regidor looked into Kale’s eyes, and she nodded.
“Wulder, guide us,” whispered the meech.
Without discussing the matter, Regidor took the lead and Kale gladly followed. He formed images in his mind of the smallest particles in Gilda’s system. With malformed properties, these elements whirled out of synchronization with the others. Fragments repelled each other. Slowly, Regidor realigned the configurations. Upon occasion he isolated a unit and totally annihilated the foreign substance.
Kale assisted by keeping the images sharp. Her cooperative efforts allowed Regidor to concentrate on minute parts, while Kale sustained a larger picture. The others provided a flow of energy. With Gymn’s presence in the circle, the healing aspect of the procedure progressed swiftly. Filia delved into Regidor’s deepest memories and pulled out any information that would aid him in his task.
Finally, Regidor scanned through the work he had done and tweaked a few minor segments. One last sweep through the whole process, and the meech dragon was satisfied with the natural cohesion reestablished in Gilda’s composition. He pulled his thoughts back from the others.
They broke connection, both mentally and physically, stepping back from the table and exhaling.
Granny Noon sank onto a stool and clasped her hands in her lap. All eyes focused on the blue bottle.
Regidor cleared his throat. “Come out, my love.”
The moment stretched. Kale fought back a surge of panic.
Oh, Wulder, please!
Smokelike billows erupted from the narrow opening of the bottle. Kale held her breath. This did not look like Gilda’s usual controlled, and somewhat staged, entrance. The pillar of cloud speedily descended to the floor. Everyone stepped back as it roiled in place.
Metta burst into song, breaking the silence. Pure, sustained notes in a soothing melody vanquished the tension. The turmoil within the cloud quieted. The mist thickened, coalescing into a recognizable form. Gilda looked as she had before she entered the bottle the last time.
Kale blinked.
No, I can’t see through her. She’s truly solid. It worked!
Gilda’s eyes roamed from one face to the next.
Ignoring her training not to pry into others’ thoughts, Kale plunged into the meech’s mind. Gilda looked for some difference in those who watched her, as if her transformation would be mirrored by them. Kale laughed and spoke to her friend, “We haven’t changed. You are different, Gilda. You’re whole.”
A slow smile spread across her lovely features. She lifted a hand to Regidor. He jumped forward and took it. Gazing into her eyes, he raised it to his lips.
She giggled, a sound that seemed inappropriate for the stately Gilda. “The first time you’ve kissed me, and you missed my mouth by a yard.”
He jerked her forward and into his arms. The next kiss did not miss and made up for years of being unable to touch.
“Well,” exclaimed Granny Noon, placing her fingertips on her throat and giving a shiver. “I’d say this calls for a celebration. If we can get the attention of our two lovebirds.”
Regidor threw back his head and howled in jubilance. He swept Gilda up and swung her around the room.
Bardon and Kale laughed, clapping their hands. The minor dragons soared and chittered, adding to the merriment. Regidor paused before Kale and allowed the two women to hug before he twirled Gilda around the room once more.
“Tea and daggarts,” said Granny Noon and moved to her cupboard.
“It’s a miracle,” said Kale.
Regidor put his bride down on the floor but kept an arm around her. “A miracle? Yes, it is! No less a miracle bec
ause Wulder used us to perform it. No less a miracle because the answer was already written in His design of the universe. A miracle!”
Granny Noon’s offer of tea and daggarts expanded to a lovely spread of nordy rolls, oaten honey bread, cakes, tiny sandwiches, a pot of stew, and candies made from mordat. The party lasted all afternoon and into the evening. Gilda took delight in touching things, stroking the minor dragons, holding a spoon, and sipping from a delicate teacup.
Kale gasped as she watched Gilda raise a brown nordy roll and sink her teeth into it. Gilda paused and tilted her head, sending the Dragon Keeper a look of inquiry.
“I never thought,” said Kale. “I mean, it never occurred to me. How did you eat? What kept you alive? All those years in the bottle. You should have starved to death.”
Gilda smiled with the serenity that heightened her beauty. “Regidor kept me alive. His research was divided between seeking ways to sustain me and ways that might cure me.”
Regidor patted her hand and then, with obvious pleasure, intertwined her fingers with his.
After Kale cleared the table and Bardon helped her wash up, they moved into Granny Noon’s comfortable den area. Kale settled on the floor and rested against Bardon’s legs as he sat in an overstuffed chair. Gilda snuggled in Regidor’s embrace on a sofa.
The warm room exuded comfort and peace. Granny Noon, sitting in her favorite chair, took up her knitting, gave the rocker a little shove with her foot, and took a stitch. “My dears, you’ve been ensconced in your self-absorbed bubbles for too long. I’m afraid it’s time to come out and see where Paladin needs you. We all have work to do.”
5
NIGHT TALK
Bardon stooped to keep from hitting his head on the roots woven into the ceiling of the small bedchamber. On his shoulder, Dibl dug in his claws to keep from slipping and let out a chortle. Bardon ignored the minor pest and gazed at Kale, already sitting in the tiny bed under one of Granny Noon’s homespun blankets. She pulled her knees up to her chest and did little to hide the mischievous smirk on her face. With the good humor dragon influencing his mood, Bardon edged sideways around the wall without grumping.
DragonFire Page 3
