Dragons of the Watch

by Donita K. Paul

  He and Ellicinderpart both raised their heads and looked around. The huge furniture and grandiose size of the rotunda—all the architecture in the city—sure didn’t measure up as small.

  “Well,” said Ellicinderpart, “the urohms in Amara may have normal-sized homes, but these urohm diplomats must not have believed as strongly in humility.”

  Bealomondore scanned the upper balcony again, wondering if Old One eavesdropped. He raised his voice just in case. “I sure wish Old One had the itch for company. Imagine the details he could clear up for us.”

  He turned as the sound of flapping leathery wings came from the storage room of the library. Det swooped into their sanctuary and landed on the back of a chair. Ellicinderpart closed her book and leaned forward. This morning she had revealed that she had trouble understanding all the dragons except Airon. Apparently she was determined to tune in to Det’s report.

  Bealomondore saw the look on her face change from concentration to joy. She heard.

  Det had two houses designated as possibilities, both in a neighborhood close to the edge of town and therefore out of the range of the roaming hunters. To go to either house would require spending the night away from the library, perhaps two nights.

  Bealomondore watched Ellicinderpart to gauge her reaction to this news. He was sure she hadn’t realized that being alone in his company without a proper chaperone sealed her fate. She would be his wife or be relegated to a single life, probably on her parents’ farm.

  She stood and put her book down on the top of a pile next to Old One’s chair. “I’ll pack a few things.”

  He nodded and watched her scurry off. He certainly wouldn’t take advantage of her lack of sophistication, but he did wonder how she would react once the situation became clear to her. He closed his eyes and sighed. Of course, they might be stuck in the bottle city until they were both old. That would solve the problem of what society thought. What did he think? How did he feel? He opened his eyes at the revelation in his heart. He felt grateful.

  In the past two years, he’d given his heart to someone who loved someone else. He had to admit that they, his former ladylove and her intended, were a perfect couple. But loneliness and a lack of destiny had descended on him at the end of the war. Painter? Soldier? Society dandy? Diplomat? What was he? Falling through the bottle wall had not devastated him as much as it might have. After all, he had no particular path to take. But with the coming of Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl, all that changed.

  He looked to the skylight and whispered, “Wulder, bless my soul, You’ve provided, and although it’s going to take some getting used to, I’m pleased You’ve brought me a young lady I can admire.”

  He needed to pack a few things as well. And he wanted to strap on his Sword of Valor. So far the only dangerous beasts he had come across in Rumbard City were six-year-olds. But venturing farther from the center of town might uncover something more sinister. This information was another thing they might acquire from Old One if the ancient urohm would just speak to them. Bealomondore headed for his private corner of the library.

  Ellie waited with Det at the back entry to the library. As Bealomondore approached, he saw her eyes widen. Her glare fastened on the sword belt and scabbard.

  “Why are you wearing that?” she asked.

  “Just to be prepared.”

  Her frown turned fearsome, and he bit off a laugh he knew would offend her.

  She spoke through tight lips. “You will remember these urohms are children, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Ellicinderpart. On my honor as a gentleman, I promise not to pierce the heart of one of the scalawags.”

  She looked doubtful for a moment, and he hoped she would not belabor the point. Of course, he wasn’t looking for the chance to cross swords with a child. And besides, from what he’d seen, most of their weapons were made of wood.

  They went past the butcher shop to pick up their noonmeal and were surprised to find twice as much food.

  “Enough for dinner,” said Ellicinderpart, shaking her head in wonder. “Who is it? How does he or she know what we are planning?”

  Det chittered. She gave him a sharp look, then turned to Bealomondore. “Wulder? He says Wulder provides?”

  “That has been my conclusion. The Tomes record His principles and some of His history. Those accounts speak of His sending His people into barren lands but providing a sweet bread served in small bites and scattered on the ground each morning. And at dusk, He caused birds to gather in the camp for the people to capture and prepare for the evening meal.”

  “Why did He send them to a barren land?”

  “Punishment for disregarding His power and His will.”

  Ellicinderpart tilted her head and wore a thoughtful expression. “So He interacts with His ‘people’ more than Boscamon?”

  “Since Boscamon does not exist, then of course He does.”

  Tak came and nudged Ellicinderpart’s arm. Absent-mindedly, she pinched off a piece of bread and fed the morsel to her goat.

  Det reminded them of the long journey. They put their trash back in the box and stowed the extra food in Bealomondore’s satchel. Det led them quickly out of the center of the city, where they would be most likely to run into a band of children. Once they felt safe enough to slow their pace, Bealomondore engaged Ellicinderpart in conversation, learning about her family, her siblings, her many aunts and uncles, and the farm that had been in her father’s family for many generations.

  “I find it odd,” he said, “that there is no legend of a city of giants in the land. Your family has been in the area for almost as long as the city has been in the bottle, yet no one tells tales of its existence.”

  Ellicinderpart’s face brightened at the topic. “Did you see dragon posts before you came to the glass wall?”

  “I did.”

  “No one has ever mentioned those monuments to me. No one talks about the city, the urohms, or the stone dragons.”

  Bealomondore offered his hand to help her over a rough bit of pavement. The cobbles shifted underfoot, and he didn’t speak until they passed the obstacle.

  “I’ve read of other standing stones. They’re typically said to be centuries old, which would fit our theories about Rumbard City. And they typically have their origins shrouded in mystery. Something so obvious in the countryside should garner interest and be honored with at least an oral tradition of history.”

  Ellie broke in. “No! No one has said a word about dragon stones. My family often goes to the festivals within walking distance. Among all the singing of ballads and stories of lore, I have never heard anything about the city or the standing stones.”

  “It is my opinion,” said Bealomondore, with a finger in the air for emphasis, “that something prohibits the populace from recalling anything from the past. Such was the case in the accounts I read. And more interesting is that even when the local people acknowledged a standing stone in their vicinity, they failed to recognize the significance of these monuments. More often than not, they forgot these oddities are among them.”

  “I think I’ve missed something. What is the significance of the standing stones?”

  “My point exactly! We don’t know!”

  Ellicinderpart shivered, even as they walked in the warm sun. “That doesn’t seem natural, does it?”

  “No, and neither does a city in a bottle. I would say that either Wulder Himself or one of His wizards cast the spell that is Rumbard City.”

  “Wizards are connected to Wulder?”

  She looked at him with curiosity. Bealomondore hesitated. How much could he tell her without sounding like a fool? So many times when he tried to explain what he had learned about Wulder, people thought it foolishness. But those who knew Wulder marveled at the miraculous and didn’t discount the wonders Wulder had performed. Bealomondore would spend many years with Ellicinderpart, one way or another, so he made the choice to feed bits of knowledge to her in little portions.

  “Yes, they deriv
e their skills from an intimate knowledge of the way Wulder designed the world.”

  “We don’t have wizards in Chiril, just stories about such men.”

  “We do have wizards now. And some wizards are women. At least Librettowit, Fenworth’s librarian, says there are female wizards in Amara. In Chiril, Verrin Schope is a wizard. Paladin is somewhat like a wizard, but apparently more. And Fenworth, if he hasn’t traveled back to Amara, is a wizard.”

  “The stories have good and bad wizards, so is Wulder good and bad?”

  “No, men are good and bad. Sometimes, when people are given a lot of responsibility, they use the power to make themselves even more powerful. A principle in the Tomes says, ‘He who forces his gift to fill the world will suffer the loss of the gift and the world.’ ”

  Airon flew in from one of the side streets and announced that she was going to accompany them on the rest of their journey. With her along, the conversation soon turned to singing. The sun set, and they had a meal on the front porch of a small house. The only one who seemed disgruntled with the plan to move on was Tak. He wanted to be done with walking for the day, and he made that complaint clear through the two dragons.

  After an hour’s rest, the moon came up and provided plenty of light, so they continued, following Det to the first house he had discovered.

  Inside, they found an oven, stores of food, and huge baking sheets to make daggarts.

  “Do you think the things in this kitchen are still good after four hundred years?” asked Ellicinderpart.

  “I don’t believe it can be that old. Remember, the urohms died off naturally of old age. And I would suppose that Wulder provided fresh staples until the only food needed was enough to sustain the children and Old One.”

  “And us.”

  “And the dragons of the watch,” Bealomondore added.

  “What happened to the people in the barren land? Are they still roaming around without a home?”

  “No. According to the Tomes, they could not go into the good land until the generation of scoffers died off. Then the next generation would be allowed to enter.”

  The goat came and stood beside Ellicinderpart and leaned into her leg, almost knocking her over. She smiled and rubbed the top of his head. “I’m so tired I can hardly stand up,” she said. “And so is Tak.”

  They left the kitchen and found a room with a thick area rug, a couch, tables, chairs, and throw pillows. Bealomondore climbed an end table and hopped onto the sofa. He shoved a pillow to the edge.

  “Look out below!” he shouted and heaved the plush cushion over the side.

  He pushed another pillow off, then jumped, landing on what would be his bed.

  Ellie giggled. She put a hand over her mouth and sobered. “Oh my. I’m getting silly, I’m so tired.”

  “Well, then,” Bealomondore said. “Let’s turn in and discuss Wulder, wizards, and the world more tomorrow. And in addition to contemplating large issues, we can be practical as well. We’ll be able to see better in the morning light and take inventory of the cabinets.”

  “If we find the ingredients we need, you know I’m going to insist on baking the daggarts.”

  Airon and Det flew in, circled the room, then settled on an overstuffed sofa.

  Bealomondore dragged a pillow through a doorway. “I’ll sleep in here. And yes, I figured we’d have to bake.”

  “If we find eggs.”

  “If we find flour, sugar, salt, and all those other ingredients.”

  “If we find a working oven.”

  He laughed. “Maybe we won’t have to bake after all.”

  “Don’t count on it. I know a recipe for iffie pie.”

  “Never heard of it.” He raised his voice to reach the other room. He removed his coat and sat to take off his shoes.

  “It is my grandmother’s recipe. If you have an ingredient, you put it in. If you don’t have it, you don’t put it in.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stick to daggarts.”

  “How is that an adventure in living?” She sounded as if she had lain down, her voice muffled.

  “Believe me, I’ve had enough adventure. I’ll be happy if tomorrow is nothing more than a day of baking.”

  “Goodnight, Bealomondore.”

  “Good night, Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl.”

  “My family calls me Ellie.”

  “Good night, Ellie.”

  “What does your family call you?”

  “Graddapotmorphit.”

  She responded after a short pause. “Good night, Bealomondore.”

  Ellie turned over again and greeted the lightening sky with relief. The cushion did not make a satisfactory mattress. Her bed in the library was much more comfortable. She’d tossed and turned most of the night. Tak raised his head and then put it back down quickly, as if to say, “Oh no! I’m not getting up. It’s too early.”

  Ellie couldn’t stand the lumpy bed any longer and gave up any notion of sleeping a few more minutes. She changed out of her nightgown, folded the garment her aunt had purchased, and put it away in the little bag she’d brought with her. She figured the library must have given out the bags since Rumbard City Library was emblazoned across the front. The light cloth sack was easier to carry than her carpetbag.

  She washed her face and crept to the back door. The closed door momentarily stymied her desire to go outside. She didn’t have a clue as to how to open it. Following the wall, she came to the opening they’d crawled through the night before. She pushed halfway through and stopped to gape at the garden. Gorgeous, lush bushes crowded the yard, and each had bright flowers of different sizes and colors. She hadn’t seen any of this splendor when they arrived by the light of the moon. Everything had been shades of gray. She twisted to lie on her back for a better view.

  For several minutes, she reclined half in and half out of the small portal. A flock of heliotrope birds fussed at each other in a tragabong tree. Butterflies with shimmering wings flitted between the flowering bushes. A breeze rattled a chiming tree, and the little bell-like leaves quaked. The musical jangle rose and fell, sounding a pleasant natural percussion in the early morn. Later in the day, the leaves would soften in the heat of the sun and no longer sing softly to the world.

  Ellie felt Tak pushing her from behind. She wiggled out and sat on the grass as the goat followed. “So you decided to get up after all.”

  A rooster crowed.

  Ellie sat up straighter. “Did you hear that? Where there’s a rooster, there are chickens. Where there are chickens, there are eggs.” She jumped to her feet. “Come on, Tak.”

  Det and Airon joined the two early birds.

  “Are you coming with us?” Ellie asked.

  Airon assured her that they would be back soon. At the same time, Det mindspoke their intention to check for news from the watch. Ellie found she received the simultaneous messages with a little less confusion than before. Perhaps she would become skilled at communicating with the little messengers. The dragons flew off toward the center of town.

  Ellie and Tak followed the sounds of clucking down the alley and came to a huge lawn behind a mansion. A barn stood on one corner. Two giant horses grazed in a pasture beyond. Dozens of normal-sized cats scooted around the paddock and outbuildings.

  “It must be perilous to be a mouse around here,” she said to Tak. “I don’t see any goats or cows or pigs. I guess this was not a working farm but more of a hobby.” She looked again at the mansion on the hill. “No farmer I’ve ever known lived in a house like that.”

  The rooster ran in front of them on an urgent mission. He challenged a smaller bird that had the audacity to strut in front of his hens.

  “I’m glad they’re not giants like the horses. I think I’d run.” She glanced around the barnyard and stopped to consider the small wooden hutch. “I don’t think they’ve been laying in that chicken coop. Let’s look in the bushes.”

  She examined the shrubbery nearest the alley with Tak right behin
d her, who was plucking green leaves for his breakfast. There she found dozens of eggs. Many eggs were clustered, and the grass and foliage around them showed obvious signs of a hen’s devotion. Having run off from the house without a basket of some sort, she tucked up the hem of her skirt, making a pouch to put the eggs in.

  She and Tak meandered back to the house where they’d slept, enjoying the early morning feel in the air and fascinated by the trappings of the urohm neighborhood. When they finally made it back, Ellie sat beside the hole in the wall and, one by one, put the eggs inside. With her skirt pouch emptied, she stretched out on her stomach, reached through the skinny portal, and carefully moved the eggs aside. Finally, she crawled in, and Tak followed.

  An empty flowerpot stood against the wall, and she loaded her find into the makeshift bowl. In the kitchen, she placed the pot on the seat of a chair and brushed twigs and bits of dirt from her clothes.

  “Is that you, Ellie?” Bealomondore called from somewhere in the house.

  “Yes.”

  “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  She followed the sound of his voice and ended up in the room where her lumpy pillow-mattress lay. Her venture outside had been filled with color, light, and beauty. Now the darkness of the empty house made her skin prickle with bumps. “Where are you?”

  “Through here.”

  Tak darted in front of her, and she gladly followed.

  A light beckoned her from the end of a hall. Bealomondore had opened the shades in a room filled with paintings.

  “Aha,” she said as she came through the door. “What a fine collection. Are the paintings good or merely pretty?”

  “Mostly good. A few excellent.” He pointed to a picture of a ship on the sea and then to a depiction of a woman reading to children around her.

  He pointed out a six-foot-tall painting of two men standing side by side, a tumanhofer and a urohm. “But this is the one that astonishes me.”

  “Oh!” Ellie moved to the picture as if drawn by a rope. “Is it right? I mean, the proportions? The shorter man comes up to the other’s waist. Surely one is too tall or the other too short.”