Dragons of the Watch

by Donita K. Paul

  Nighttime in the city had a different feel, serene and pleasant. She thought of all the six-year-olds, tucked in bed and sleeping soundly.

  “Where are they?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “The children.”

  “In bed.”

  “But where?”

  Bealomondore looked around as if the buildings would give him a clue. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve never looked for them?”

  He shrugged, furrowed his brow, and shook his head. “Why should I?”

  “So they are probably sleeping in boxes, or on the floor, or someplace totally unsuitable.”

  “As long as they are asleep, what does it matter?”

  “It does matter. Children should have their hands and faces washed, if not a whole bath. They should have a good-night story and be tucked into a cozy bed. They should have a kiss on the cheek or forehead and someone to smile at them. The last thing they see at night should be the happy face of someone who loves them.”

  “These children would bite the hand that tucked them in.”

  “Maybe not.” She paused as they walked past several shops. “Perhaps they might bite the first night or two, but I bet they’d like being loved.”

  Tak trotted ahead and reached the fountain first. He drank and then, with water dripping from his beard, went to investigate the box on the butcher’s stoop.

  For dinner they had hot bowls of stew, a loaf of buttered bread, and two peaches. They sat by the fountain to eat, then cleaned up by returning things to the box.

  “Shall we go home by a different route?” asked Bealomondore. “I thought we could go by the town circle and collect your carpetbag if it is still sailing the turbulent sea around the stone ladies.”

  “And you’re sure the children won’t be lying in wait?”

  “Positive.”

  Ellie called Tak to leave the bush he was chewing on and come with them. They traveled a street she didn’t think she had seen during her frantic route that day. She and Tak had crisscrossed much of the inner city during their attempts to elude the children that morning. Bealomondore’s guidance brought them back to the central fountain after only a ten-minute walk.

  The moon was no longer bent, and lightrocks glowed from the tops of lampposts. Along the way, they picked up a few of her discarded garments. She hoped to find enough garments to change her clothes when they reached the library.

  They came to the empty circle. Ellie sighed her relief. She trusted her tumanhofer companion more and more as she grew to know him, but the lengthy chase that had begun her day had her wary of running into the hunters.

  Her valise floated low, having taken on water. Bealomondore took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his trousers, and waded in to rescue the listing ship. He then climbed several of the statues to retrieve her shoes, a bonnet, and her lacy slip.

  As he returned her slip, she blushed in the moonlight and dropped her chin to avoid his eyes. He laughed and made a sweeping bow. “I consider this to be the sail to the ship, milady, nothing more.”

  She wrapped her clothes in one skirt to make an easily carried bundle. None of her new clothes would ever be the same, but at least she’d have a change of clothes again. She carried the clothing while Bealomondore held the carpetbag away from his side to prevent the drips from staining his trousers.

  Feeling much better about Rumbard City, Bealomondore, and their chances of finding an escape, Ellie walked happily beside her escort as they made their way back to the library.

  Tak wandered ahead of them, poking his nose into whatever interested him and nibbling whatever grew from the flower boxes. Bealomondore stopped at a corner.

  He motioned toward Tak, who had gone on in a straight line.

  “We turn here.”

  “Tak,” Ellie called. “Come back. We’re going this way.”

  The goat turned his head and started back, then stopped. He looked at them and then down an alley.

  “This way,” Ellie insisted.

  Tak shook his head so that the hair on his whole body shimmied in the moonlight, then took off down the side alley.

  Ellie turned to look at Bealomondore with a shrug. “I’m sorry. But I can’t leave him out here. When the children come out tomorrow, they would love to catch the ‘dog.’ ”

  “I understand.” He put her bag down and took her bundle to place next to it. “We’ll leave these here. It’ll be easier to give chase without any encumbrances.”

  The goat let out a plaintive “Maa!”

  “He sounds upset,” said Ellie.

  They hurried to the point where Tak had disappeared around a corner. Tak stood just a few feet into the alley. At his feet, a pile of clothing lay in the shadow of the building. The moonlight touched the white hair of the goat and part of the cloth.

  Ellie didn’t recognize any of the visible material as part of her missing garments. She walked forward with Bealomondore right behind.

  “Maa!”

  She stopped beside the goat and leaned over. Tak shifted, and the moonlight he had been blocking fell on the clothing. Ellie saw a dirty hand and stood up abruptly. She turned to Bealomondore but could not utter a sound. He hurried to her, put his arm around her shoulders, and turned her away.

  Her voice trembled. “Is it …?”

  “Yes, I think so.” He let go of her.

  Ellie thought she would faint. She’d never fainted, but as Bealomondore’s arm left her, she thought she would crumple. She stiffened her legs and felt the tumanhofer crouch beside her.

  “Is she …?”

  “He, I think. And yes, I’m afraid so. There’s a lot of blood.” He stood and looked up. “He must have fallen from that catwalk up there.”

  Ellie took a deep breath in. She glanced up at the ladderlike structure that crossed the alley from one building to another. Three stories up, the narrow planking with rungs passed from one window to another.

  She felt the world tilt and dropped her chin to her chest. Bealomondore had stood, so she took hold of his arm, willing the dizziness to subside.

  She swallowed hard and hoped she wouldn’t throw up. “What should we do?”

  “I don’t think there is anything we can do.”

  “Tell the other children?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think they know? Do you think they saw him fall?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Bealomondore’s answers angered her, but she realized his tone held sorrow and sympathy. He wasn’t being heartless, just answering her truthfully. She fought the horror of a child dying from such a fall and the bitter words that sprang to her tongue.

  “Bury him? We can’t just leave him here.”

  He put his arms around her and guided her face to his shoulder. “It’s all right, Ellicinderpart. All the urohms in this city have died, yet there are no bodies, no skeletons, nothing. Whoever brings the food and rain takes away the dead.”

  Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she embraced Bealomondore, holding him tight. She cried for the big child and for all the little ones cowering in the dark, perhaps sleeping, perhaps too upset to close their eyes.

  She sobbed as her companion urged her to leave the alley and continue to the library. When they reached the corner, he whispered, “I’ll come back for your things.”

  They entered the library by the rear vent, and Bealomondore had her sit on a cushion near the storage room.

  “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  He left, and Ellie wiped her tears on her sleeve. She needed a handkerchief. Getting up, she followed a light and found a room with lots of tables of books in various states of repair. She climbed a stool and took a rag from the tabletop. It smelled of turpentine, but she shook out the dust and used a relatively clean corner to blow her nose.

  She sat on the edge of the stool and waited. Her tears dried and left her with sadness squeezing her heart. She wanted to talk the situation over with her mother. She wanted to hold
her little brothers and sisters.

  Bealomondore came back and easily found her. With both arms filled with her belongings, he looked up to where she sat perched and waiting. “Are you going to be all right?”

  She nodded. “Did you know they have … accidents?”

  “I figured it out. Old One’s mentioned that there used to be over a hundred children. They don’t die of old age. He’s said he never had any illness. I thought that if he didn’t have colds or stomachaches, then probably the children would be protected as well. But they are wild and do what they want, and they don’t show much common sense.”

  “With no one to warn them or scold them, they are bound to do dangerous things.”

  “Yes.” His simple answer held a mountain of regret.

  He’d thought about all this during the two months he’d been captive in this city. She could hear his despair. It echoed in her heart.

  “No, Bealomondore.” She flipped over and started her climb down the stool. Wrapping her body around one of the legs, she slid to the last rung before the floor, then hopped down.

  “What do you mean by ‘no’?” he asked.

  “I mean that we are not going to let any more children die.”

  His face took on a wary expression. “What are you planning? They’re dangerous, wild, ruthless—”

  “Children. They’re children. I agree they are a bit wild.” She tapped his chest with her finger. “But we’re going to tame them.”

  Bealomondore knew his guest’s crusade to save the children could be laid at the door of the tragedy. He’d given up trying to reason with her and just nodded his head once in a while. The fact that she still had the berry juice stain on her face didn’t help him take her more seriously. He realized she’d be humiliated if she saw the purplish red goatee painted on her chin.

  Tak lay beside Ellicinderpart, sound asleep. He made little noises, as if a dream occupied his nighttime thoughts.

  Bealomondore envied the goat. He wished he could stretch out and go to sleep. He stifled a yawn. It had been a long, eventful day. Much more challenging than many of the days he’d spent in Rumbard City. He began to think Ellicinderpart would never wind down when suddenly she yawned. He jumped at his chance to move them toward retiring for the night.

  “Let me show you where you can wash, and I’ll drag a pillow into a little nook where you can have some privacy as you sleep.” He stood and gestured for her to follow.

  She blinked and stared at him for a moment before she stood. “You said you sleep here?”

  “Yes, in the children’s section. There are cushions on the floor.”

  “Blankets?”

  “Yes.” He smiled at her. “I appropriated them from a doll cradle. It doesn’t get very cold at night. I doubted the baby doll needed the covering more than I did.”

  She gazed at him. The humor had not registered.

  “You must be very tired,” he said.

  She still did not move.

  He tried to sound patient. “Are you coming?”

  She nodded, and he led the way to the children’s room, where bright colors dominated the décor and chairs and tables were more in line with the size they needed. In a corner behind a librarian’s counter, a door remained open to the pint-size rest room.

  “I never close the door all the way,” he explained. “I don’t know if I could open the door once it was shut. I’ll leave you here, and I’ll see about locating an appropriate spot for you to call your own.”

  She went into the room and pushed the door, but not shut. He scratched his head. One minute she chattered with plans to win the children’s trust, and the next she changed into a docile, quiet—pleasantly quiet—guest. The ordeals of the day must have caught up with her.

  He glanced around the room. His bed was between the science and mathematics shelves. He moved to the opposite side of the room, latching on to a pillow as he passed the middle, where he assumed children had sat to listen to stories. He dragged what would be Ellicinderpart’s mattress to the area where a cradle held the wooden baby. Behind the books that displayed colors, shapes, alphabet letters, and numbers, a shadow provided a dark enough spot to facilitate slumber. He crammed the pillow in the tight corner and turned his attention to acquiring a blanket.

  The baby’s bed had a small pillow and a sheet. He stole them from the cradle and then went looking for something to serve as a heavier cover. Under the librarian’s counter, he found a stack of folded cloth. He chose a soft, thick flannel, wondering how the librarian had used it.

  Ellicinderpart came out of the rest room, her chin scrubbed clean. He made no comment, not wishing to embarrass her.

  “I’ve found a cozy spot. First let me show you where I sleep so you’ll know where to find me if you need me during the night. I can’t imagine why you would, but just in case.”

  He led her to his corner, then swiftly moved on to where he’d put the cushion for her bed. “I hope this will be comfortable.” He handed her the flannel.

  She took it and looked at the sheet he’d spread over the cushion. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “All right then. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He took several steps away, but she called his name.

  “Bealomondore?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.” She sighed, and he thought for a moment that she would dissolve into tears again.

  But she lifted her chin and batted her eyes to ward off the onslaught. He recognized the same type of bravery his sisters had exhibited when told they would have to dine with their father.

  “Thank you for everything. It would have been horrid to encounter all of this alone. Or rather, with just Tak. I don’t think I could have handled it well at all.”

  Not quite sure how to react, Bealomondore bowed in his most elegant manner to honor her statement. “I have to admit, searching for clues will be more fun with a partner.”

  She smiled, and Bealomondore forced himself to turn away and head for his quarters. Was it the extended solitude that made him susceptible to her charms? Or was Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl the most appealing country miss he’d ever encountered?

  Ellie thought she would not be able to sleep, but soon after she snuggled into the cushion and covered herself with the flannel, she fell into a deep slumber. When her eyes opened in the morning, she couldn’t remember any dreams plaguing her, but her first thought was of the unfortunate child. She should have dreamed of him. How could such a thing not cause a deep unrest?

  Before her callousness raised a specter of guilt, she realized that some of her clothes had been returned. Someone had scattered bits and pieces of her belongings over her bed. These were not the things she and Bealomondore had recovered, but things that had still been missing when she went to sleep.

  The children?

  No, Bealomondore said they never ventured out at night.

  She sat up and rummaged through the assortment, glad to see the green skirt and mismatched stockings.

  Bealomondore?

  Could he have gone out again?

  No, he was tired when they parted, and she felt confident that he’d gone to bed.

  Old One then?

  She shook her head at her theory. Nothing she knew about the old urohm indicated he would go out of the library at all, let alone at night, to retrieve her things.

  She got up, folded her clothes, matching up what outfits she could conjure out of the bits and pieces at her disposal, and finally chose what she would wear that day. After changing in the rest room, she went in search of Bealomondore. She found him, still in the children’s section of the library, sitting at one of the tables designed for small giants.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He looked up from a book, stood, and smiled as he bowed. “Good morning. I brought our breakfast back from the butcher’s shop. Will you join me?”

  “Oh, so you have been out.” She sat in the chair he pulled out for her. “Thank you fo
r bringing me more of my things. We just might get it all back.”

  He gave her a quizzical look as he reclaimed the chair he’d been sitting in. “I didn’t find anything but toast and jam this morning.”

  Ellie picked up a slice of bread and bit into it without the jam. Rich with whole grains and butter, it tasted wonderful. But it didn’t capture her whole attention. As soon as she swallowed, she pursued an answer to her questions.

  “Who gathered my things and deposited them on my bed then?”

  “I imagine it was the dragons of the watch.” Bealomondore relaxed in his chair. “They come to the library quite often. It is a central building, and I think they’re curious as to what I’m doing in their city.”

  Ellie chewed on her toast and eyed her companion. Most of what he’d told her had proven to be true, but this claim that dragons roamed the city didn’t sound feasible. And dragons had entered the library? And she didn’t wake? Perhaps kimens or o’rants or emerlindians, but dragons? Not likely.

  Bealomondore fiddled with a cloth napkin on the table. “And then there is the fact that two of the dragons came with me into the city two months ago.”

  She didn’t say anything but stopped chewing.

  He looked sheepish, and he should. He was about to unload some fanciful tales and actually expected her to believe him.

  “Det and Laddin,” he said. He bravely made eye contact, but she squinted in what she hoped was a discouraging manner. It didn’t work. He plunged on.

  “Their names are Det and Laddin. Paladin gave them into my care, or maybe me into their care, during the war. I was on the front lines, and Det is gifted in geography. He can recall maps he has only glanced at. He saved me and my men more than once by knowing where a ravine ended or what lay downstream.” He glanced up at her, then back down at the napkin. “And Laddin is a green dragon … healing. Green dragons are healing dragons.”

  Ellie resumed chewing and swallowed.

  “There’s tea,” said Bealomondore.

  “Thank you. I’d like tea.”

  He stood and walked behind the librarian’s counter, where he fetched a teakettle and two teacups.