DragonLight

by Donita K. Paul

  “His name is Mot Angra. Although it is rumored he has had other names in other places. The common belief is that Mot Angra cast his fortune with Pretender and left Wulder at the same time. The tale we know is of a time when he ravaged an entire civilization, burning cities, destroying crops, mutilating animals, and eating people. Naturally, the people of that world under this relentless attack sought an escape.

  “They made a gateway and came to us, or so the legend says. The last man came through, bringing an old, sick woman in his arms. The elders moved to close the gateway, but too late. Mot Angra leapt through.”

  “Here?” demanded Toopka. “Mot Angra came here?”

  Sir Dar nodded and looked at her with compassion. “So the story goes, but do not fear. The sick old woman held the answer to controlling the beast. The first thing the woman did was to instruct these people how to put the beast to sleep.”

  “Why didn’t she do this before?” asked Regidor. “While they were still on their world?”

  “Because the man who carried her through the gateway had been to several worlds through portals, searching for her. He had only just returned to his world and found it in desolation.”

  “Is she going to die?” asked Toopka. “I don’t like it when people die in stories.”

  “Yes, she died, but not before she gave the people the knowledge they needed to control the beast, and not before she pleaded with Wulder to one day give someone the instrument to kill the beast.”

  The girl doneel sighed. “So the bad dragon, Mot Angra, is asleep?”

  “Yes, Toopka, asleep with a guard around him made up of the people from the other planet. They feel responsible for bringing him here.”

  Regidor cleared his throat. “You didn’t mention the part about the small black dragons.”

  Sir Dar looked at the floor. When he raised his eyes, worry darkened his pupils. “Mot Angra sheds his scales. Each scale becomes a dragon.”

  Bardon leaned forward. “So what is the explanation of these swarms of black dragons being seen now?”

  “This phenomenon occurs only when the dragon stirs in his sleep.”

  Toopka gasped. “Mot Angra is waking up?”

  Kale placed a hand on the little girl’s back and rubbed. “It’s a fable, Toopka.” I hope it’s a fable.

  18

  IN VENDELA

  Kale tossed her curls, feeling them bounce around her ears. Gilda might be annoying at times, but she came in handy during a fashion crisis. Kale’s new hairdo hid the disaster of burnt locks, and she was very grateful not to be walking down the streets of sophisticated Vendela with her hair stuffed under a hat. She tilted her head to view Toopka riding on Bardon’s shoulders. “Do you want to go through the market and see if any of your old friends are there?”

  Toopka shook her head, vigorously. “There’s nobody there I care about.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The doneel craned her neck to look at Sir Dar and Lee Ark behind them. Each held out an arm for Sittiponder to use as guides through the crowded streets of Vendela.

  Toopka looked down at Kale. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Brunstetter forged ahead of them, making a path in the crowd so the smaller members of their party could pass easily. Toopka had ridden on his shoulder first, but she complained it was too far up to see people’s faces.

  “Why didn’t Regidor and Gilda come with us?” she asked.

  Kale shrugged. “Gilda prefers a closed carriage. They had to go the long way around, since only pushcarts and small donkeys are allowed in this part of the town.”

  Toopka pointed over a stone wall. “Look! There’s the dragon field.”

  With her hands planted in Bardon’s dark hair, Toopka rose up on her knees to get a better look. “They aren’t there. Our dragons haven’t come back.”

  Bardon grimaced as her knobby knees dug into his neck muscles, and her little fingers tugged tufts of his hair. “We haven’t called them, Toopka. Don’t worry.”

  “But some of them were sick. I saw you put smelly liniment on Greer’s shoulder. Sir Dar put medicine on Merlander where her skin rubbed off under the saddle.”

  Sir Dar frowned at the doneel girl. “Merlander has delicate skin. Besides, she likes the attention.”

  “But where’d they all go, and why have they been gone so long?”

  Sir Dar pressed his lips into a thin line. “You are entirely too inquisitive. I believe I’ve told you to use your eyes instead of your mouth to find out things.”

  “Is that a principle?”

  “No.” Bardon laughed. “The principle that would apply is, ‘Ask questions of a patient man, for an impatient man will answer to his benefit, not yours.’” He flinched again as Toopka shifted her weight.

  Kale patted the doneel’s legs. “Sit down now. You’re hurting my husband, and I don’t like that.”

  Toopka complied, and Kale straightened the child’s yellow, silky shirt that had escaped the waistband of green-dotted pants.

  “But where did they go?” asked the little girl.

  Bardon grabbed her ankles to stop her from kicking his chest. “Into the mountains and the valleys to the west of Vendela. It is customary for the bigger dragons to socialize there. The minor dragons prefer to remain in Kale’s cape. Riding and major dragons enjoy one another’s company while they wait for their riders to be done with whatever business has brought them to the capital.”

  “Will they come back when you call?”

  “Yes,” Bardon reassured her. “When I think about Greer, he will know it and come to find out why I am bothering him.”

  Toopka’s voice squeaked as she asked her next question. “The dragons all know to go there to see their friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will Mot Angra know? Will he go there?”

  “Ah, so this is what all the anxiety is about.” Bardon squeezed Toopka’s legs, then jiggled them. “No need to worry, tot. If he exists, he’s still asleep.”

  “But—”

  Kale put her hand on her husband’s arm. “Hush for a moment, Toopka. I need to talk to Bardon. Tieto is excited. He says that one out of every five people we pass has the distorted aura peculiar to those he saw in Namee’s castle.”

  “We’ll ask Regidor about it when we get to The Goose and The Gander.”

  “Do I have an aura? What’s my aura look like?”

  “A good question, Toopka. I’ll ask Tieto.”

  She asked the question and waited for the reply. “He says your aura is the same as it always is. You have a bright core that looks like it could burst out at any moment, and it is covered with a murky, swirling brown and blue shadow.”

  Toopka frowned. “Is my aura pretty?”

  “Tieto says it’s attractive, but unlike most auras.”

  “I’m unique,” bragged the doneel child.

  “I agree with that,” Kale stated.

  Toopka became interested in her surroundings and ceased chattering. When they went through the market, she asked to be let down and walked with her hand clutching Kale’s skirt.

  At The Goose and The Gander, Brunstetter led them around the side of the inn. His urohm frame didn’t fit in the corridor that passed through the building to the tea garden where they would meet Librettowit.

  Maye Ghent greeted them. “Welcome to The Goose and The Gander. It’s been a long time, my friends. Have we changed much?”

  Sir Dar stepped forward, took the marione innkeeper’s hand and made a court bow. “Not a bit. The gardens are colorful, the food smells divine, and you, Mistress Ghent, are as gracious and beautiful as ever.”

  “And you are ever the diplomat.” Her pleased expression revealed how much she enjoyed the flattery. “Come, I have a table where you all will be comfortable. The cook has outdone herself today with a delicate pastry layered with nuts and fruit and topped with whipped cream. You must save some room for it.” She led them toward a table under a bentleaf tree while she talked. “First, I’ll hav
e the servers bring you soup. Do you favor hot tumport, or perhaps cinamacress consommé?”

  Kale recognized the soups as dishes Taylaminkadot loved to serve. “Would your cook be a tumanhofer, Mistress Maye?”

  “She is, indeed.”

  Feminine giggles drew Kale’s attention. A group of five young maids strolled along one of the garden paths that twisted among clusters of potted flowers. In the center of this bevy of girls, a familiar male marione flashed his white teeth and dimples. His companions fluttered their fans, batted their eyelashes, dipped their heads, and looked utterly idiotic.

  There’s Holt, she told Bardon, using her talent to direct his eyes to the young man.

  “Don’t speak to him. We don’t want anyone to know we have made his acquaintance.”

  Do you suppose Holt is the “something” Librettowit is bringing to us?

  “Perhaps.”

  Kale watched in amazement as Holt continued to charm the ladies, leading them to a table shaded by a large umbrella. He carefully seated all the giggling girls and ordered cool drinks.

  “You mustn’t be seen staring at him, either.”

  Kale quickly faced Bardon. I wasn’t staring. Staring is rude.

  “You show that much interest in a handsome young man, and I may have to play the jealous husband.”

  Pooh! She hurried to join the others who had already gathered around the table under the long trailing branches of the tree.

  “‘Pooh’! Did you say ‘pooh’? Kale, sweet lady of mine, I don’t think I have ever heard you say ‘pooh’ before.”

  Perhaps because you have never said anything so foolish before.

  Bardon gallantly separated the natural curtain of drooping limbs, and Kale walked through.

  “Librettowit!” She circled the table to give him a hug. “I didn’t see you sitting here.”

  “I’m standing,” grumped her librarian. “And you probably didn’t see me because you were staring at Holt.”

  “So you are, and no, I wasn’t.” She glanced around the table. “Please, be seated.”

  Chairs scraped over the brick flooring. Bardon let Toopka down and sat on Kale’s right, with Toopka and Sittiponder beyond him. Librettowit remained at her left.

  She looked at his scowling countenance. He didn’t like to travel unless a rare book lured him out of his library.

  He caught her staring at him. “I am sitting.”

  “I didn’t say you were not.”

  “And now you’re staring at me. When did you become so rude?”

  “I’m sorry. I took up rudeness just a short while ago, and I’m not very good at it yet. You’ll have to give me pointers from your centuries of experience.”

  A twinkle came to the old man’s eye. “Impertinent.”

  “Oh, good. That’s exactly what I was trying for.”

  “An ill-mannered wizard. You remind me more of Fenworth each day.”

  Those at the table laughed, appreciating the humor in Kale’s being likened to her mentor, an old bog wizard who enjoyed a constant verbal battle with Librettowit.

  Bardon leaned forward to address the tumanhofer. “Please, don’t say so. I’d prefer you didn’t see her as anything remotely resembling a bog wizard. She wakes me in the middle of the night with miniature fireworks displays going on over the bed. But I’d much rather that than the bog creatures that used to skitter around Fen when he slept.”

  Several serving maids interrupted their laughter to provide them with drinks and determine what food to bring them. Once these young women left, Sir Dar came to the point.

  “Kemry asked us to meet you here, Librettowit. What is this important thing you are delivering?”

  “Holt.”

  Toopka burst into giggles. “Holt can’t be important. He’s Holt.”

  “Toopka,” said Sir Dar, “the most surprising people come forward to do important things.” He looked pointedly at the furry little doneel. “Sometimes even very small people.”

  Her demeanor changed abruptly. Serious reflection replaced the humor in her big brown eyes. Her smile tightened and thinned and disappeared. She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them.

  The others in the group went on to other topics of conversation, but Kale watched her ward with concern.

  Bardon placed his hand over hers. “You’re staring again.”

  What was that all about?

  Bardon looked thoughtfully at Toopka for a moment. “I believe our Toopka has a destiny.”

  Kale choked down a laugh that sprang to her lips. I almost echoed Toopka’s remark about Holt. She can’t have a destiny. She’s Toopka!

  “Wulder chooses whom He may.”

  An arch of light crackled over Kale’s head. She jerked out of her reverie and smiled at the others. “Excuse me. I was lost in thought.”

  Brunstetter put down his tankard. “Don’t worry about it, Lady Kale. Again, we are relieved you are not a bog wizard letting lizards and drummerbugs loose on the table.”

  As the others chuckled and continued their conversation, Kale turned her hand over in Bardon’s and squeezed.

  Have you ever wondered why Wulder chose us?

  “To astound the wise and baffle the learned.”

  Do you think He’s chosen Toopka?

  Indubitably.

  19

  A SECRET MEETING

  “What do you suppose has delayed Regidor and Gilda?” Brunstetter asked midway through the meal.

  Lee Ark glanced around. “My wife would like this place. She’d think it a real treat to bring the children and enjoy the garden, the music, and the food. But not all women like the same things.”

  Brunstetter nodded. “My family would feel the same as yours.” He took a bite of dark bread slathered with butter and bright red jam. He chewed and swallowed. “So you think Gilda took one look at The Goose and The Gander and guided Regidor to a more suitable eating establishment?”

  Lee Ark nodded.

  “They’ve missed a fine meal, then.”

  Kale frowned. Music from three wandering musicians drifted among the chatter of friendly conversation. The mixture of sweet and spicy fragrances from the flowers mingled with the aroma of baked goods and sizzling meats. Not only were the flowers bountiful and gorgeous in their array of colors, but the people also wore their gayest clothing. Kale shook her head. Regidor loved this type of setting. People amused him. Color and music excited his artist’s soul. Did Gilda not understand her husband’s need to have his senses fed? Regidor thrived on adventure and variety.

  It’s possible I know him better than his wife does. I bonded with him before he was born. And I am officially still his Dragon Keeper.

  When the servants had cleared away the last dish, Maye Ghent approached their arbor under the tree. “There’s a private room reserved for you. And the couple who took the room is waiting for you. If you’re done with your meal, I’ll show you the way.”

  Sir Dar sprang to his feet and sped around the table to the hostess’s side. “One moment, Mistress Ghent.” He crooked a finger, indicating he wanted to speak quietly.

  She leaned over.

  “We’d rather not be obvious, and the procession of us traipsing up the stairway would be quite conspicuous.”

  “Of course.” Maye Ghent nodded with a knowing smile. “If your party would split up? The gentlemen would perhaps like a drink in The Gander? The ladies would like the cool retreat of The Goose?”

  Kale pushed her talent past the crowded veranda and gardens to the inside of the inn. She located Regidor immediately and felt Gilda’s disgruntled presence beside him.

  “Sir Bardon, Toopka, and I can find our own way up.”

  Maye bent her head. “I shall take Lord Brunstetter up the outside stair. Then I shall come to the door of The Gander and escort the tumanhofers to the room. Last, Lee Ark, if you would give us a moment, then climb to the third floor. I’ll meet you at the top of the stairs and show you the way.”

  Kale, Bard
on, and Toopka remained seated as the others dispersed.

  “When will it be our turn?” asked Toopka.

  “In a minute,” answered Bardon.

  Kale searched the garden with her talent. “Bardon, Holt is gone.”

  “Holt’s here?” asked Toopka, a grin displacing the impatient expression of only a moment before.

  Both adults ignored her.

  Bardon twisted in his chair so that he could see a different portion of the gardens. “Can’t you locate him?”

  “In this crowd, it’s difficult. I found Regidor easily enough, since I know him so well.”

  “Regidor’s here?” Toopka stood and hopped on her chair.

  Bardon scowled as he, too, looked through the people gathered around tables. “The meeting will not be of any use without Holt.”

  “Oh no! Not a meeting.” Toopka drooped. “Meetings are dull.”

  Kale got to her feet. “I’ll stroll around. Perhaps I’ll find him.”

  “Me, too.” Toopka jumped from her seat, but Bardon caught her in midair.

  “No, you don’t. You’re staying with me.”

  Toopka wiggled. “Why can’t I go?”

  “Because you’re distracting.”

  Undaunted, the doneel child stood on Bardon’s lap and craned her neck back and forth. “I want to see Holt.”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “There he is!”

  Bardon pinned the arm and pointing finger to Toopka’s side. “If you can’t behave, I’m going to hire a nanny and leave you here in Vendela.”

  “I’m behaving. What did I do?”

  Kale sat down. “In the game we’re playing, we don’t know Holt, and Holt doesn’t know us.”

  “We’re playing a game?” Toopka sounded mildly interested, then she scrunched up her face. “You were playing a game, and you didn’t tell me. How am I supposed to go by the rules if I don’t know the rules and I don’t even know we are playing a game?” She pulled her arms out of Bardon’s slackened grasp and folded them over her chest. “I don’t believe that’s fair.”