Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2)

by Donita K. Paul

  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.”

  “Is it, now?”Chomountain glanced out the window. He smiled.

  Bixby followed his gaze. Sunshine brightened the meadow grass as it rippled in the breeze. Birds and butterflies swooped over the garden. Wildflowers and Trout’s cultivated roses, wisteria, and morning glories vied for the most colorful accolade.

  Chomountain’s huge hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “I wonder if Primen knew that he was wasting his time as he created the frivolous beauty we see out there.”

  Bixby worried her lower lip between her teeth for a moment before answering. “Primen is without sin, so I guess his creating of beauty would be permissible.”

  “Yes, Bixby. And Dukmee’s passion for playing with weeds, and Bridger’s quick response to those in trouble are sometimes seen as ineffective and therefore a bother. They don’t earn the scorn heaped on them, but their reaction to such ignorance proves their character.” He glanced upward. “Every one of us has smacked into walls of discrimination at one time or another.”

  Bixby avoided looking at Cantor. Her realm walker friend always treated the dragon with disdain. Well, not always. Since they had joined in this venture, she’d noticed he had mellowed some toward the dragon, although he still refused Bridger as his constant. And right now he was peeved with Bridger, and she wasn’t sure why.

  “I’m giving each of you one of these hampers.” Cho distributed the storage devices. “Make note of what’s inside so that we have an inventory of what we have and can make up a list of what we need.”

  He stopped before Dukmee. “While we work, Dukmee will tell us about this glass ball he found. Do pay attention to him. He believes this object to be of great worth to our mission.”

  Dukmee stood, impatience clear on his face. Bixby longed to dip into his mind to find out what troubled him, but from long experience with the healer-mage she knew she probably couldn’t circumvent his barriers, and if she did, he’d scold her. And now, hints of his being a wizard, even more learned than a mage, had been dropped by Bridger and Chomountain. She hadn’t a chance of outmaneuvering him.

  Once Dukmee displayed the globe, his demeanor changed. Enthusiasm sparkled in his eyes. A slight tremor gave away his excitement.

  “This is what Bridger and I discovered. It was embedded in the ceiling, so Bridger had to retrieve it. Once he placed the sphere in my hand, the power within literally knocked me off my feet.”

  A swift glance around showed Bixby she was not the only one who’d abandoned the small chores Chomountain had given them. If they were to be chastised for sloughing off at the job, she wouldn’t be alone.

  She turned back to study the glass ball. She couldn’t see through it, yet occasionally she saw a spark of light, almost as if a lightning bug were trapped within.

  Cantor spoke up. “What’s inside?”

  “Pictures, diagrams, maps, entire books, scrolls, encyclopedias, and everything arranged for easy access. It’s extraordinary. There are streams of ideas that can be arrested and focused upon. Ribbons of words that weave in and out among the others as if in an integral dance. It’ll take awhile to master the retrieval system, but once we do, we’ll have the combined knowledge of the Library of Lyme and the reference chamber within the ruins.”

  Dukmee offered the globe to Cho. “Try it. It didn’t work for Bridger, but that might just be because he’s a dragon.”

  Chomountain shook his head. “I don’t read. And anyway, I don’t want all that knowledge running loose in my brain like tapeworms.”

  Bixby screwed up her face at the image.

  Dukmee harrumphed and offered the globe to Cantor. He took it, peered for a long moment into the glass, shrugged his shoulders, and gave it back. “I didn’t see anything but an occasional spark. Pretty little lights that Bixby will no doubt like.”

  Bixby smiled at him. That was better. His tone of voice hadn’t sounded so harsh and unyielding.

  Next, Dukmee carried his treasure around the room to Neekoh. The young man turned the sphere smoothly in the palm of his hand. “It feels cool, nice, but I don’t see anything.”

  Dukmee’s sigh sounded impatient. “Try holding it still and studying the inside.”

  Neekoh did as he was told, then held the ball close to Jesha’s face. The cat flicked her tail, turned away, and yawned. Neekoh handed the globe back to Dukmee.

  Dukmee turned to the table in the middle of the room. “You’re the last one, Bixby.”

  She took the globe, eager to see what was inside. She saw the flashes of light Cantor had described, and they were as pretty as he said. Frowning, she squinted and tried to focus. Still nothing but those occasional, sparkling bursts of bright color.

  Her studies before, during, and after her short stint at the Realm Walkers Guild had given her plenty of practice in concentration. If determination and perseverance could have shown her the words and numbers Dukmee talked about, she would have seen them.

  With a sigh of disappointment, she handed the precious sphere back to Dukmee.

  Astonishment raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes, and left his mouth hanging open. He did not look dignified, and if Bixby hadn’t been crushed by her inability to use the globe, she might have giggled.

  “You didn’t see anything?” he asked.

  “The lights.”

  “Cantor, you’re sure as well?”

  Cantor glanced to the chandelier. “Did Bridger actually try?”

  Dukmee leaned against the table next to Bixby. “Bridger held it twice.”

  Bridger spoke from above. “I didn’t see what Dukmee saw. I think Chomountain should try.”

  Cho held his hands in front of him, palms out in a physical refusal. “No, no, no.”

  “But why not?” Bridger asked respectfully. “Even if you can’t read, you could say whether or not you see the script.”

  “That object was made for mortals, and I’m not quite a mortal. It’s designed to aid you. I doubt the thought ever crossed the minds of the makers that a right hand of Primen would ever see it.”

  Chomountain cleared his throat and straightened his vibrant, multicolored robes. “I believe Dukmee should be given twenty-four hours to study the thing. Then we should be on our way. We do have a mission. We must stop the Lymen from invading and prevent the evil guild councilmen from blowing up any more of their fellow members.”

  “I’ve had a thought,” said Bixby. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and perhaps the others would think her dreaming up problems.

  Chomountain put a hand on her shoulder and looked patiently into her eyes. “Tell us, dear.”

  All eyes turned her way. She swallowed.

  “Having all the knowledge from both places is very valuable. Being able to read that information and understand it makes Dukmee a dangerously valuable person. If the villains among the Realm Walkers Guild find out about Dukmee and the globe, then they will want him in their hands.”

  Cantor stood and moved to her side. “And they do know, or at least suspect, the information is here. That’s why they sent the expedition to explore the ruins.”

  Bixby took in a long breath and let it out slowly. Cantor understood. Replacing the tension of voicing her idea, pleasure from his support brought on a different tension. A warm glow tightened her muscles in an entirely new way.

  She tilted her head back and looked way up to the underside of his chin. He took a sidestep, effectively moving away from her. His following her logic and backing up her idea felt like an extra cord binding them to a common goal. She liked the connection, but she realized Cantor did not.

  With pops, crackles, and a sudden warmth in the air, Bridger jumped down to the floor as himself. “We shall have to protect him. He’s actually not all
that good at taking care of himself.” The dragon tapped a claw on his own forehead. “Mind’s on other things when he should be alert to danger.”

  Dukmee’s outrage was clear in his expression. “Wait just a minute. I —”

  Bixby cut in. “I agree. In the everyday, no-conflict kind of day, you do well. But we’ve been working together for almost two years, and you do get a bit sidetracked.”

  Cho pulled on his beard and cleared his throat. “I just told Cantor that you’re able to take care of yourself. But in these times, I would feel more comfortable if you would allow us to be your guardians.” He placed a hand on Dukmee’s back. “You are much too valuable to let a stray thought betray your safety. What do you say, Dukmee? Will you be sensible about this?”

  “Of course, I’ll be sensible.” Dukmee mumbled something under his breath.

  Chomountain tilted his head back a bit and looked down his long nose at the mage. “What was that?”

  Bixby’s eyes widened. She was sure Cho had lengthened. His hat almost touched the rafters. Perhaps he only stood straighter, but she’d never noticed him stooping. He still had Dukmee pinned by that penetrating stare.

  Dukmee actually squirmed. “I said, ‘I’m probably the most sensible of the group.’ Begging your pardon, sir.”

  Cho raised his chin, threw open his mouth, and guffawed. He clapped Dukmee on the back.

  Dukmee half smiled, still looking unsure whether he’d overstepped the line of propriety.

  Bixby frowned as she tried to puzzle out Cho’s behavior. She had years of court experience with nobles of different ranks and diplomats from unevenly valued nations. But her family had never had the right hand of Primen in their palace. She had no experience with a fisherman turned immortal being.

  Chomountain showed no more signs of offense. “You read, boy, and the rest of us will prepare for the journey.”

  As each turned back to his task, Bixby carried the hamper she’d been given to the porch. Her mind whirled with new discoveries. Cantor’s gentle smile, his strong voice, and the sheer power of his presence had almost knocked her off her feet. He seemed like a new person, someone more than the friend she’d grown to rely on in their last adventure together.

  She pushed Cantor aside with great effort, and pictured Dukmee in her mind. Nervous? He’d been unsure in his conversation with Chomountain. And Cho had called him boy! Bixby had never thought of the healer as “boy.” Getting a glimpse of Chomountain’s perspective, she realized that they were all young and inexperienced compared to him. They were like a group of children being sent out to conquer the bullies on the playground. Only the bullies destroyed, pillaged, and murdered. They all needed to be more than they were. The only way to do that was to infuse themselves with Primen’s might.

  With a sigh, she settled on the porch. She’d muddle through her thoughts in an attempt to assign rank and duty to each member of their team. She knew enough to realize that a group worked better together if they felt the natural hierarchy of command.

  Oh, Primen, I’m making a mess of this. I’m taking on more than I need to, aren’t I? You’ve provided all these companions with different talents for different purposes. And I’m trying to take all the responsibility. Is that part of being a princess? I mean I come from a family of rulers. Do I just barge in and take charge because I’ve seen Father and Mother do that? All right. I’ll remember I’m a child of Primen, not the queen of the universe. You always listen to me, don’t you? Thanks.

  GATHERING FORCES

  Cho sat on the porch beside Bixby. His elaborate robes didn’t blend as well with the rustic background as had his pants and plaid shirts.

  The cloth of the sleeveless tunic shimmered with each movement. Up close, Bixby could see tiny circles of reflective metal scattered in the weave of the fabric. The bits near the hem lay in a pattern of waves.

  Underneath this long outer garment, Cho wore a robe that at first glance looked to be a solid blue. But as Bixby watched, the blues faded and swirled, mixed and flowed with iridescent shades of green and purple. The same material on the sleeves held audacious hues, and the shimmer was more pronounced.

  In spite of the fantastic garb, when Cho smiled, he looked like Old Trout, but in fancy duds. “What’s your hamper’s resource?”

  “Injury and illness, sir.”

  “Is it well stocked?”

  Bixby furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together as she reached in to locate a certain bottle. “Some of the items are very old. I don’t recognize them.”

  Shaking her head so that her white-blonde curls bobbed and swayed, she handed Cho a small brown bottle with a cork stopper. “This one says oil of Prahlay. I’ve never heard of it. Have you? Do you know what it’s for?”

  Chomountain turned the bottle around in his hand, examining all sides. “Prahlay comes from flower nectar found in the tropical fields of Richra. Most probably, it’s a remedy for something of tropical origin. A rash, a bite, something hard to digest but tempting in appearance.”

  “I’m from Richra. We have two bands of tropical terrain. I should know this.”

  Cho leaned back on his arms. “Now, don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t spend much of your time on Richra as you grew up. A couple of weeks from time to time, between your jaunts off to learn from another wise man interested in yet a different spectrum of truth.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you know why I was originally sent out? What my father asked me to do?”

  Cho pursed his lips and looked at white clouds billowing in the eastern blue sky. They grew rapidly and overflowed the horizon, spreading toward the west. “I know you have a mission, but I wasn’t told what it is.”

  “Oh.” Bixby followed his gaze and watched the quickly changing tabloid of white and gray clouds. Puffed up and clinging to each other, they darkened.

  “Storm coming.” Chomountain stood. “If you need help for your task, you can ask. I won’t interfere unless you want my aid.” He paused, studying the clouds once more. “You have to ask.”

  He gestured toward the animal shed. “I think I’ll visit with my old friends.” He sauntered off, his posture reminding Bixby of the fisherman, not the right hand of Primen.

  Cantor stepped out of the cabin as if he’d been waiting for Chomountain to move on. He sat where the old man had been and plopped his hamper on the wooden slats of the porch floor.

  Bixby flashed him a smile. “What’s in your bag?”

  “Cooking and Cleaning. Pots, knives, sponges, soap, frying pan, mixing bowl, even a recipe book.”

  “No staples like flour, sugar, beans, or coffee?”

  Cantor shook his head. “Nope, but I have another hamper here. Dukmee would have taken this one, but he’s busy.”

  She looked over her shoulder, listening for sounds from inside the cabin. Jesha purred near the open door, but other than that, the tiny building might have been empty. Yet she knew Neekoh and Bridger hadn’t come out the front door. They must have gone out the back way.

  Cantor offered her the bag. “Shall we look inside?”

  When she was slow to take it, Cantor opened the top, pulling the drawstrings loose. He held it out again, and she reached to plunge her hand inside. She jerked to a stop and squinted at her friend. “Did you put something nasty in there for me to grab?”

  Cantor’s belly laugh surprised her. He was shaking his head, but the more he denied it, the harder he laughed.

  “Humph! Cantor D’Ahma, you can examine the contents of that hamper yourself. I don’t trust you.”

  Cantor sobered, wiped tears from his eyes, and forced his face to stop twitching with the inclination to fall back into hilarity.

  Bixby watched his efforts, steeling herself against being duped. Acting would never be Cantor’s forte. His mischievous streak made a blatant lie of the pious expression he tried to stick to his face. He was a rough country boy playing true to his colors. He hadn’t grown up s
o much after all, even though he’d been away from his home for three years.

  Probably a wet, stinky fish. Maybe a skunk tail. Old Trout had a number of animal pelts in various stages of tanning. A slithery grass snake? A cracked egg?

  She leaned away from him as he reached into the bag.

  He started to pull his hand out but stopped with his wrist even with the top of the hamper. “I really didn’t plant an ugly surprise, Bixby. You can trust me to treat you with respect.”

  His carefully modulated voice convinced her of his insincerity. Her squint came back full force, and her lips pressed into a perfect line.

  Cantor tucked his chin against his chest and looked dejected. Bixby’s heart softened. She doubted her certainty of his duplicity. She could be wrong about him. In fact, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d underestimated him or misconstrued his intent.

  Her shoulders relaxed, as did the terrible scowl she’d held in place.

  Cantor’s head whipped up. He roared. His arm appeared as fast as the flick of a whip. A shapeless brown object dangled from his hand. He thrust it into her face, and she screamed.

  Cantor fell off the porch, laughing.

  Bixby jumped down and stamped her foot on the hard-packed dirt. “Childish,” she raged. “Pure childishness. Wicked. Fiendish. Not childlike at all. Bully. That’s what you are. You’re nothing but a bully. Bully!” She kicked at the ground, aiming to shower dirt on his worthless hide as he rolled around, unable to control his laughter, gasping for air.

  She flounced away from the cabin. They had to go together on this mission, but she wouldn’t be paired with him to do anything.

  She’d thought he’d matured somewhat, even hoped he’d developed some tender feelings for her. They’d always had a special bond, could read each other’s minds as if they were speaking out loud. He was handsome and manly, and she could easily start thinking of him in terms of hero to her heroine.

  “Phooey!” She clenched her fists. “What’s wrong with me?”

  She stopped. Cantor had never disgusted her as much as he had just now. Never.