DragonLight

by Donita K. Paul

  21

  GO . . . BE BLESSED

  The room emptied, leaving Kale, Bardon, and Holt. Sir Dar took Toopka, and Regidor took Gilda, with just about the same degree of coaxing and gentle persuasion.

  Bardon pulled his chair around so that he faced Holt. The large circle of comrades had become a small, uncomfortable circle.

  Kale eyed her husband’s new position. Holt probably thinks we are going to pounce on him.

  “Why should we do that?”

  You don’t think you’re crowding him a bit?

  “I just want to see his face. I would have had to look around you from where I was.”

  Well, just be gentle with him. He doesn’t need someone else telling him what a loser he is.

  “Holt? Holt! Are you kidding? Holt has no idea he’s a loser.”

  Yes, he does, Bardon. Be nice.

  “While I’m being nice, you find out what Tieto says about his aura.”

  Kale smiled at his gruff tone. Yes, Sir Bardon.

  Holt cleared his throat. Kale and Bardon gave him their attention, but not before Kale coaxed Tieto out of her cape and silently requested he look over the colors surrounding the marione. She set him in her lap, where he looked around the room before resting his alert gaze on the blond man.

  “So.” Holt looked sheepishly at Bardon. “What do you hear from N’Rae?”

  “She’s happy. She and Granny Kye went back to live with the ropmas that helped raise her. She gave up trying to teach them to read and is now concentrating on hygiene.”

  Holt pursed his lips. “Sounds like fun.” He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. “And that little mummikun lady, N’Rae’s protector?”

  Kale kept a tight hold on the grin that was threatening to escape. Holt looked so uncomfortable. “Minneken. Jue Seeno went home.”

  His head jerked up. “You mean…died, went home, or went home to where she lived before?”

  “She went to her home after her duties were completed.”

  Bardon cleared his throat. “The tower at The Hall contains many gateways. We’ll be able to escort you to any location. Where is it the Followers have suggested you perfect your next level?”

  “A place called Paladise. Don’t laugh. I think it’s an atrocious name too.”

  “I’ve already heard the term.” Bardon allowed the uncomfortable moment to stretch. “I believe Paladise refers to several centers under the Followers’ control.”

  Holt nodded but did not offer any specifics. Again Bardon allowed seconds to tick by in slow, methodical torture. Holt fidgeted and kept his eyes from making direct contact with Bardon or Kale.

  What are you doing? Kale asked Bardon.

  “Waiting for him to come clean.”

  About what?

  “I don’t know, but he seems pretty nervous for someone who just had all his money worries solved.”

  Tieto rubbed his head against Kale’s chin and chirred softly. Holt sat up straighter in his chair.

  Bardon tilted his head forward as if intently interested in whatever the marione had to say. Kale caught the flash of a wink in her direction. Her dear husband attempted not to gloat. “Here it comes.”

  “Sir Bardon, Lady Kale.” Holt presented both hands, palms up, before him. “I ask you, what further information could I get that would be of any use?” His hands emphasized his words with generous gestures. “There are ten steps at the listener level, and I am on the first rung. There’s no way I’m going to be allowed to see anything significant, talk to anyone important, or learn the ins and outs that would profit your investigation.”

  Bardon clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I gather you are not eager to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

  Holt shook his head. “These people put a lot of stock in proving just how willing the subject is to be humiliated in order to be elevated. They call it the humble steps.”

  For the first time, Bardon looked genuinely concerned. “Do you think they’re physically abusive? I honestly didn’t see any signs of that in the village I visited.

  “And where are the children? Huh? Where are the older people?”

  Kale nudged Tieto until he rolled over on his back. She ran her fingers over the soft scales of his belly. “Holt, do you have any answers to those questions?”

  “No real answers. But I’ve got ideas. I believe they’ve taken the younger children to some training center away from the parents. I have a theory on that. If the parents see their children suffering, they’re more likely to question the wisdom of the elders. If it’s only themselves who have to submit to this ridiculousness, then they allow themselves to be taken in longer. Getting the children back is also another promise, a carrot, to dangle in front of the poor slobs who buy into this messy business. When they are sufficiently knowledgeable to instruct their children, then the families will be reunited.”

  Kale tried to keep her voice calm. “But you don’t believe the older people are off someplace receiving training.”

  “Not the ones who are so old that they’re a bother. Perhaps they’re too set in their ways and cause a problem. They won’t change their thinking, too indoctrinated with the old school of Wulder knowing everything, and Paladin being an instrument of good. Or maybe it’s just that they’re too old to be of much physical use in the communities.”

  “So where are these senior citizens?”

  “We’re told almost the exact same thing as the explanation of where the tykes are. The old folks are in special training centers where things aren’t so hard for them.” He cleared his throat and gave a rote answer. “‘They go to a place where the burdens of life are not overwhelming.’”

  Kale shook her head. “It sounds like they’re taking care of them.” Tieto curled into a ball in her lap, looking like he would doze off. She stroked his sides and the sensitive spot between his ears.

  Holt shook his head. “It’s not the words the Followers speak, but the way the words are spoken. When the echoes say one day the families will be reunited, and they are referring to the old ones, it sounds like a much more distant time. Like…after death.”

  Kale reached over and touched Holt’s arm. “Are you afraid for your life?”

  The marione sat up straighter and pulled back his shoulders. “No! Are you kidding? Most of these people don’t have a muscle to hang a basket on. And the mass between their ears is mighty weak, as well. I’ll be all right.”

  “Then why are you so reluctant to go?”

  “I fear boredom will kill me.” He numbered his complaints by holding up one finger for each count. “No gambling, no flirting, no games of any kind, no music, and no drinks other than water. And as a level one listener, I get to do all the grunge work. And did I tell you the food is awful?”

  Holt stood and paced the room. Tieto lifted his head and watched him. The marione stopped in front of Kale and Bardon. “Do you think you could arrange for me to go on the quest? Even putting up with Gilda would be a treat compared to listening to lectures four times a day and scrubbing floors in between.”

  Kale sat back and giggled. “No, we can’t. But, Holt, you do have Seezle to brighten your days.”

  He harrumphed. “No, she comes to me with her clothes dimmed so as not to be conspicuous.” He did another turn around the room, running his fingers through his thick blond hair. “I feel like I’ve been sentenced to prison.”

  Bardon winked at Kale. “From what I heard, you were once again a hairbreadth away from time as a worker on one of Paladin’s ships.”

  Holt grinned. “An unfortunate misunderstanding.”

  “As always.” Bardon’s face grew serious. “You still haven’t told us which Paladise will be blessed with your presence.”

  “Because I don’t know. And this idea of yours, to escort me to my destination, it won’t work.”

  Bardon raised an eyebrow.

  “Because they fully intend to escort me there themselves. You don’t have to worry about my reneging. Once I ente
r the transitional house, I couldn’t get out of it if I tried.”

  “We’ll just tag along,” Bardon assured him. “We’ll keep out of sight and only help if we’re needed.”

  “I don’t need guardians.” Holt crossed to the window and looked out at the scene below. “And then there’s the official listener style of walking.”

  Kale looked at Bardon, who shrugged. “What about the walking? What does that have to do with us making sure you arrive safely at your destination?”

  “Nothing! It has more to do with why I don’t want to go to my destination.” Holt gave up his view of the outside. “Listeners keep their eyes down and their feet on the ground at all times. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.” He demonstrated with his feet scuffing the wooden floor and his head and shoulders drooped as if carrying a weighty burden. Anger straightened his spine. “It’s ludicrous.”

  He grabbed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. “Well, let’s go. You can take me to the transitional house, though you won’t be able to go in.”

  Kale stood. Tieto fell off her lap but spread his wings quickly enough to fly to a new perch. He chittered a scolding, but Kale didn’t heed him. “I’ll change our appearance first. Would you like to have two emerlindian friends?”

  “Sure.” Holt threw himself into the wide chair Brunstetter had occupied. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Kale worked quickly, but now that Holt had decided to get on with his charade, he alternately paced the room or sat in gloomy contemplation. When he stopped to watch Kale transforming herself and Bardon into an emerlindian couple, he fidgeted with the buttons on the front of his vest, combed his hair with his fingers, and produced a raspy, tuneless whistle between his teeth.

  Kale dropped her hand from the sash she had formed to belt Bardon’s dark tunic. “You’re driving me crazy, Holt.”

  He flashed her a weak imitation of his winning smile. “It’s my last chance.”

  “For a while.”

  “Yes, of course, that’s what I meant.”

  Kale stared at him.

  His jaw worked as if he were biting his tongue. “What are you looking at?”

  “You. I’m actually looking inside you to see if this is all an act.”

  “Well?”

  “It’s not an act.”

  “I could have told you that.”

  “I wouldn’t have trusted your words. I wouldn’t even trust your seemingly unconscious nervousness, because I know you are a consummate actor. But your agitated thoughts, your accelerated heartbeat, and the way your anxiety alters the way your body functions, you cannot reproduce at will.”

  Bardon took a hold of the marione by his sleeve. His hand, darkened to the shade of a granny emerlindian, lay in sharp contrast against the fine material of Holt’s white shirt.

  “We’re very different,” the knight said. “However, I believe that is only on the surface. You’ve chosen to make the world believe that your only concern is for Holt Hoddack to have a pleasurable, comfortable good time. But, Holt, I saw you come through time and time again on our last quest.”

  “To impress N’Rae,” he quickly pointed out. “I was just being noble whenever I could to win her good graces. I got it in my head that should we find her father, there would be a reward.”

  Bardon shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I think at the end of our quest, you got in the habit of making right choices. I think you were enjoying being a hero instead of the cad.”

  “Well, I soon forgot those good habits, now, didn’t I?” Holt shrugged his shoulders and moved away a step, effectively disengaging Bardon’s touch on his arm. “Being a cad feels more comfortable to me.” He looked Kale over from head to toe. “You look ready to go. You can’t take all these dragons. It would be a dead giveaway that you aren’t the simple wife of a humble granny.”

  “They will ride in the moonbeam cape. And the moonbeam cape will be carried as a satchel.” She pointed to the floor where a gray carpetbag almost blended into the floor.

  “Fine.” Holt strode across the room and yanked the door open.

  Kale and Bardon followed.

  I’m not happy with this, she told her husband as she rushed down the narrow wooden stairs.

  “And I’m not worried. I believe Holt is going to surprise us. This is his chance to negate all the mistakes of his youth and finally show what he is made of. What does Tieto say of his colors?”

  His aura is in great disharmony. Underneath, there lies a steady rim of green that indicates undeveloped potential. Tieto showed me images of his colors undulating. That was the first time I’ve seen what Regidor talks about. Fascinating. Really, Bardon, I can’t begin to describe it.

  “Try, Kale. And walk faster while you do. He’ll get away from us.”

  I could see a murky line wash through his aura like a ripple coming up on the bank of a river. Then the brighter colors diluted the ugly ones.

  “What you’re basically saying is that he is still untrustworthy.”

  Yes, but listen to this. Tieto says that a new thread appeared in his aura after we spoke to Wulder in the meeting. And the former colors have been quick to either absorb or repel that new thread.

  “A new thread means what?”

  Tieto says that the thread is Wulder’s.

  “So Holt has a new element to deal with. And a mighty influential element it is.”

  Exactly!

  They caught up with Holt outside the three front doors of The Goose and The Gander. Night had come to the city of Vendela. In this part of town, clean, well-lit streets did not see many scoundrels and scalawags. No one feared they might be accosted by a ruffian.

  In the light of a street lantern, Kale looked at Holt Hoddack’s youthful face. He didn’t have the look of a hardhearted conman. But wasn’t that why he was so good at wheedling into people’s good graces and then taking advantage of their gullibility? What did her husband see in him that she could not? When had Bardon’s suspicions and skepticism turned to trust?

  Bardon took her elbow as, without a word, Holt strolled away from them. They followed a dozen steps behind.

  “I believe,” said Bardon quietly, “that Wulder has chosen Holt for this mission.”

  “First, Toopka has a destiny, and now Holt has a mission.” Kale tsked. “Wulder never seems to follow what I would call a logical plan.”

  “Yet we have enough experience now to look back on the events we have witnessed. From this perspective we are able to see that His design did indeed reflect a superior strategy.”

  “Yes, but why use people of weak character? The chance of failure is increased a hundredfold.”

  Bardon quoted, “I saw him fall and did not know / his knees and hands were used to sow / one more seed in Wulder’s field / of honor and great deeds.”

  Kale pulled from what little she had learned of ancient literature. “That’s from Poltace, isn’t it?”

  “No, Barnácee. But you were in the right time period.”

  Holt turned out of the market streets and into a residential area. His steps slowed.

  This neighborhood worked together to present a variety of flowers in ornate boxes and barrels at every corner and at intervals down each block. The night air lifted the sweet scents from flowers hidden in shadows. Kale breathed deeply and thought fondly of her garden at the castle.

  Holt paused between two lampposts so that darkness hid his features. Kale and Bardon walked up to him and stopped.

  “I have one more thing to tell you,” Holt said. “I haven’t figured out why yet, but the Followers have a prejudice against all things that fly. They eat the flesh of no bird. Flying insects are loathed. And, most importantly to you, dear Dragon Keeper, they scorn dragons.”

  “That’s an odd custom.”

  “Everything about them is peculiar, except for the hunger for power you can see if you look for it. I recognize that vice easily enough.”

  “But these arbitrary likes and dislikes…?”

  “S
ometimes I think these things are what they use to gauge how firmly they hold power over their members. Sometimes I think their decrees reflect an arrogant attitude of laying down a law just because they can.” He took a deep breath. “And sometimes I think that the deviant edicts come from a deep source of evil. The machinations of such a perverse master are beyond what our minds can grasp. Only Wulder is wise enough to untangle their webs.”

  “Do you really believe that, Holt?” asked Bardon.

  “I do.”

  “Then in the end, you will be all right.” Bardon rubbed his chin. “I have one more question for you.”

  “Make it quick. I’m late as it is.”

  “When I was in the village of Paladise, I saw a bird carved on each doorstep.”

  “The Sellaran, an extinct bird they believe will rise again. They don’t say how, of course. But these birds were huge, and the Followers hope they will destroy what is left of the dragons.”

  Kale clenched her fists. “That doesn’t make sense at all. The timing is wrong. Since the end of the war, we’ve had more dragons hatched than in the two hundred years before.” She looked at Bardon. “It would have made more sense to try to annihilate them when their numbers were at an all-time low.”

  “None of what they do makes sense to me. Why single out dragons to abuse them?”

  Holt fiddled restlessly with the strap of his backpack. “I don’t have time to debate the issue. I must be on my way.”

  Kale hugged him. “The house you’re going to is close, is it not?”

  “The next block.”

  “I did listen to you back at the inn, Holt. I do realize how hard this will be.”

  He patted her on the back and pushed her away. “Don’t worry. I’ll be deemed a sterling quality listener. Partly because they think they can get more money out of me, and more importantly, my father’s land. They don’t want to lose me. And partly because I am as good at a con as they are.”

  Kale twisted her fingers together. “What if they decide they’ve made a mistake in bringing you into their fold?”

  “The elders always say that their choice of listeners is infallible.”

  Bardon scoffed. “They never choose someone who will fail?”