Dragons of the Watch

by Donita K. Paul

  “Coming through. Excuse me. Move aside. Excuse me.”

  She dragged Red Curls to the front and looked around in amazement. “There’s nothing here. Why are you standing around in this back room instead of moving into the children’s area?”

  Bealomondore’s expression showed that he was as perplexed as she was. Through their bond, she felt his irritation rising. Her annoyance fed on his. Her eyes widened as their gaze met.

  We’ll have to be careful, she mindspoke. I feel like I could wring their necks without an ounce of remorse.

  Bealomondore’s brow furrowed, then cleared. “Yes, I felt my anger surging in a manner that is totally out of proportion to the situation.”

  Doubled! Ellie smiled her understanding.

  “And then doubled again.”

  She nodded. Twice the emotion for half the cause.

  Cinder cleared his throat. “Are you two just going to stare at each other? You look silly.”

  Ellie broke out of her private communication with Bealomondore and surveyed the frightened children.

  Toady’s anxious voice barely reached her. “He’s in there.”

  For a moment, the identity of “he” eluded her.

  “Oh, you mean Old One.”

  Red Curls jerked on Ellie’s arm. “I gotta go.”

  “Right,” said Ellie. “We’ll go to the children’s area. I’ve never seen Old One there. After we get settled in, I’ll introduce you to him. He might even read to you. He is a librarian, not a grawlig, you know.”

  Bealomondore’s thought interrupted her. “I believe he said he was a guardian.”

  A communal gasp turned Ellie’s attention from Bealomondore to the place where they focused all eyes. Old One stood in the doorway to the main library area.

  “You will obey all the rules,” he bellowed, and the children cowered.

  “You will not shout, yell, or scream. You will maintain a quiet attitude. You will not run, skip, or dance. You will move sedately through the book stacks. You will treat the books with respect. No chewing, throwing, or stepping on. You will sit in chairs and on the floor. No climbing is allowed in the library. No running.”

  Cinder spoke up. “You said that one already.”

  The glare Old One pinned on the unfortunate boy scared even Ellie.

  “No running,” Old One repeated.

  Tense faces stared at Old One as he sat beside the desk in the children’s area. He scowled at one in particular, and that child shrunk and wiggled to the back of the group. Bealomondore thought Old One was doing an admirable job of keeping order.

  Ellie didn’t. “He’s scaring them. There’s no need to scare them.”

  “Then you should explain to the children that they’re not allowed to scare me. Being attacked by that mob in the street took ten years off my life.”

  “These are the peaceful children, not the hooligans.”

  “I recognize some of these innocent-looking cherubs as wranglers in a few scuffles I’ve seen,” he said.

  Ellie looked at Bealomondore. “What are we going to do? We can’t let the children and Old One stare darts at each other.”

  Bealomondore thought better of the sarcastic remark that sprang to his mind. The sad thing was that before he could shut it off, Ellie heard it.

  “Humph!” She squinted at him sternly.

  He thought she looked adorable, and she heard that too. She blushed. He laughed.

  “The first order of the first day in your new abode,” said Bealomondore, “is to have noonmeal.”

  Ellie turned her hands up and shrugged. “Where do you suppose the food is?”

  Bealomondore didn’t sound worried. “The wizard that provides our sustenance seems to know what we’re doing and when. He always puts the correct amount of food where we can find it.”

  At the mention of food, the children’s attention had shifted from the grouchy librarian to the tumanhofer. Some of them nodded to his statement, some stood with their mouths hanging open, and some wagged their heads, indicating they didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

  Bealomondore debated revealing his sighting of the wizard at work. The children evidently were unaware that a wizard watched over them. Then he’d need to explain the history of the city. How much could this young audience absorb in one sitting? He decided against getting into anything too complicated.

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “So”—he examined the grimy faces suddenly attentive to his every word—“I suggest we have a scavenger hunt. Holler loud if you’re the first one to find the stash of food, and we’ll all come to help cart it back to the children’s area.”

  He lifted his hand to count on his fingers the rules he wanted them to follow, but the children dispersed with wild whoops and cheers before he said another word. The dragons of the watch took off from their various perches and joined in the riotous hunt. They flew above the children’s heads, chirring lively tunes and doing aerial acrobatics as if caught up in the children’s exuberance.

  Ellie grinned, but Old One growled, muttering under his breath. “No loud voices. No running. No rough-and-tumble play allowed within the library walls.” His eyes widened, and he turned his head abruptly in the direction most of the children had taken. He bellowed, “You aren’t allowed to go up the steps. Never go up the steps. Off-limits to the likes of you.”

  A squeal resounded through the hallowed halls of Old One’s literary institute. “I found it! I found it! Come see. There’s buckets of food here. Buckets!”

  Wizard Pater had provided plenty of food. Enough for the children to have seconds. Usually he avoided giving them desserts, but a beautiful cake, iced and decorated with pictures of the minor dragons, sat on a shelf directly behind the buckets of food in the broom closet.

  “And where’s my broom?” Old One groused.

  Ellie pointed to the wall behind the big door. “Right here.”

  He growled and stomped back to his rotunda.

  After noonmeal, Ellie had her new family sit in the children’s area and pulled out the many pillows hidden in a cupboard.

  “These are for you to keep,” she said. “Find a place and that will be your place to sleep.”

  “Nah!” objected Cinder. “We don’t sleep during the day. That’s for babies.”

  “I didn’t say we were going to have a nap. I’m going to read to you, and I want you to be comfortable. We’ll sleep tonight, but you can claim your space now.”

  The children accepted the brightly colored cushions and scrambled to get the best spots.

  Bealomondore watched with amazement. He couldn’t decide what attracted the children to a particular location as superior to another. The disputes became violent, and he had to step in and negotiate peace several times as the young tyrants zeroed in on one site and then another. Ellie scooted up close to Bealomondore and whispered in his ear. “Sit on this side of the room, and I’ll sit on the other while I read.”

  “Why?”

  “Your presence will keep them under control.”

  “What if they squirm and wiggle?”

  “Just touch them.”

  He couldn’t resist teasing her. “With the point of my sword?”

  Her exasperated look pleased him. She had more appeal than any society damsel he’d ever met.

  She patted his arm. “Your hand will be sufficient. Just lightly touch them.”

  Ellie crossed the room, crawled into a huge rocker, and opened the book she had left there. Bealomondore noticed that Old One had parked his huge frame in a chair near the entrance of the children’s area.

  “Quiet now, so you can hear.” She opened the book, and from the first sentence, her voice captured the room.

  Bealomondore found the story she’d chosen to be enchanting. The tale was not a legend he was familiar with. The urohm characters fought an evil monster to free their children from its cave.

  He never had to settle any of the children. Her audience listened without stirring. Af
ter the heroes brought home the rescued children, Ellie read from a children’s poetry book. One by one, the listening children fell asleep.

  When she looked up and saw the quiet room, she closed the book, slid off the chair, and with a signal to Bealomondore, tiptoed into the main library. Old One stood and followed her. Even he seemed to understand the need for quiet.

  The old librarian settled in his favorite chair. Orli flew in and settled on the back of his chair, close enough to wrap his tail over Old One’s shoulder.

  “You two had better be careful,” said Old One.

  Bealomondore scrunched his forehead as he turned his attention to the librarian. “In what way?”

  “You’re getting too close to that wizard. He’s treacherous, not to be trusted.”

  Bealomondore didn’t understand Old One’s suspicion. “He’s provided food for the citizens of the city all these years.”

  “Because he had to, not because he wants to.”

  Ellie sat on a stack of books she had cushioned with a blanket. She folded her hands in her lap and gave her full attention to Old One. “Why is that? Surely if he arranged the situation of Rumbard City being isolated in a bottle, he could free us. Why shouldn’t we get close to him in hopes of persuading him to break the bottle?”

  “He’s trapped as well.” Old One shifted uncomfortably, as if the conversation bothered him. “He has to keep us alive. We are his only hope of being free himself.”

  Bealomondore sat beside Ellie and put an arm around her shoulders. “Do you mean we as in Ellie and me, or we referring to you and the children?”

  Old One pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squinted shut. “Anyone alive in this city. That’s probably why he trapped you. So you would help him escape. He knew I wasn’t going to do it. I don’t care if he’s trapped for eternity. Ha! Serves him right for acting like he’s Wulder Himself. Setting a punishment on us as if he’s not just as prideful as the ones he punished.” He nodded. “But Wulder sees right to the heart of each man, woman, and child. Wizard Pater is confined just as we are.”

  “Where?” asked Bealomondore.

  Old One shook himself. “What’d you ask?”

  “Where is Wizard Pater trapped?”

  The librarian waved his hand in front of him, dismissing the question. “That was years ago. Why do you want to dredge up the past?”

  Bealomondore stood. “We want to get out of here.”

  “This isn’t such a bad place. A bit livelier than I like now that you’re here.” He nodded toward the children’s section. “You’ll soon turn those out. They cause trouble.”

  Ellie peeked around Bealomondore. “We will not be throwing the children out.”

  Old One scowled at them. “What are you going on about? I’m tired, and you two are nattering. Leave me alone.”

  Bealomondore sat down again. They watched the librarian settle in his chair, preparing for an afternoon nap.

  Bealomondore placed his arm around Ellie’s waist and leaned closer. “I think that’s all he’ll tell us today. But if we could get him to talk, to remember things, he could help us get out.”

  She whispered back. “I wonder what triggered this memory. I’d be willing to testify that he didn’t ‘remember’ the bit about Wizard Pater being trapped yesterday or this morning.”

  “I doubt he remembers what we were talking about two minutes ago.” He rested one hand on his knee. “I know some people who own an insect emporium. They probably have some mixture that would stimulate his memory.”

  “And I know a woman in the village who mixes up dried herbs. She probably has something for memory.”

  Bealomondore sighed. “And neither source is available to us.”

  “We could look for a book on herb lore. I know a little bit but not enough for something like this.”

  “After we found a book, then we’d have to find the herbs. We might be old and gray by then.”

  Ellie shuddered. “I don’t want to live here for always, Bealomondore.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Let’s talk about something else.” She looked at Orli, who watched them, not at all relaxed like his urohm. Then her eyes went back to the children’s area. “The dragons stayed with the children,” she said.

  Bealomondore hugged her closer. “Now they finally have something to watch.”

  Old One sat up suddenly, startling them both. He prefaced his statement with his usual growl. “Why did you choose that story? Why not educate them with the history of Amara? There are two excellent volumes detailing the journey to Chiril.”

  “I picked a legend, a fairy tale, for a specific purpose. And I picked ‘The Monster Held the Children’ because I wanted to educate them.”

  “Bah, it’s nonsense. Monsters and caves and cunning trickery. No substance.”

  Bealomondore felt the tension bubbling in Ellie. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

  She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was one of the many habits he’d grown to recognize. Through their bond, he sensed her ordering her thoughts.

  “My gramps attended Dorminhale University. He calls himself a wood and prairie scholar. That means he’s wise in practical and not-so-practical things. He taught me to read in defiance of my father, who is a field, farm, and natural scholar.”

  “So?” Old One’s glare sharpened, as did the challenge in his voice.

  Ellie chafed. The tumanhofer’s condescension irritated her. She wouldn’t be rude, because rudeness proved ignorance. She’d politely mention her upbringing.

  “So,” she said with a smile, “Gramps taught me material from many of the courses he attended at Dorminhale. He especially liked literature. He said that fairy tales are found in every culture. Each group of people uses story to define their world. The story we just read tells the children that families are natural. How would these children know about families if we didn’t read books where families are normal?” With a direct look at Bealomondore, then at Old One, she challenged them to dispute the fact. “The story also establishes that parents love their children and will risk all to protect them. These children have not seen that.”

  Bealomondore had to strain to hear Old One’s response. “They once had families. A mother and father who cared. Homes to live in. Older brothers and sisters. Babies born and needing tending. But Wulder took that away.”

  “Do you know why?” asked Bealomondore.

  “Because we had it all and didn’t cherish it.”

  Bealomondore frowned. That didn’t fit into the picture he had of Wulder from reading the Tomes and talking with those who came from Amara. “Really? That’s the reason?”

  Old One stirred himself enough to glare at Bealomondore. “Part of it, boy. Part of it.”

  Ellie stepped in to prevent an argument. “The fairy tale also establishes the culture’s sense of nobility. It declares right and wrong, differentiates between kindness and cruelty, and points out the futility of selfishness and the blessings of selfless behavior.”

  “Now that’s where the urohms outdid themselves.” Old One grinned. “Right from the moment we began building Rumbard City, our sole intent was to give the benefit of our society to the backward people of Chiril.”

  Bealomondore was amused as he and Ellie both took umbrage at Old One’s arrogance. They looked at each other, and he felt an understanding pass between them. They wouldn’t verbally attack the ancient urohm’s belief. It would do no good. Sometimes he remembered more clearly how they had disappointed the wizard. The wizard had banished them to the bottle.

  “And,” said Ellie, turning her attention back to Old One, “the stories propose that to pursue moral ethics, to stand for the weak against tyranny, is praiseworthy.”

  “Succinctly put,” answered Old One. “Through a good tale, you can convince these heathens of what is good and create in them a desire to be better than what they are right now.”

  Bealomondore raised his eyebrows.

  “You two needn’t l
ook so surprised. Of course I know the purpose of the different types of literature. I am a librarian after all.”

  He struggled to his feet. “I know these books better than you. Since they are mostly from my culture, you’d have to dig and dig to find the right urohm texts. I know which stories will suit your purpose.” He stopped and stared at them. “Well, are you going to just sit there? I’m offering to guide you to the right shelves.”

  Bealomondore and Ellie hopped to their feet. He whispered in her ear as they followed Old One. “Spoken like a true librarian.”

  Bealomondore hid his thoughts. He didn’t want his girl to know how much he enjoyed dunking these filthy boys. The more they hollered, the more he enjoyed himself. During the two months before Ellie came, the street gangs had made his life miserable. He’d been forced by children to skulk through the alleys of Rumbard City like some cowardly criminal. The maintenance room of the library provided the “tub,” a huge, deep sink screened in by Ellie’s ingenuity with some curtains she’d found on one of their foraging expeditions. While Bealomondore scrubbed, Ellie held Porky in the tub of water. His shrieks could probably be heard outside the library. Bealomondore noted that the minor dragons had made themselves scarce during the hullabaloo.

  “Be quiet,” Bealomondore ordered. “You’ll have Yawn and his gang thinking we’re torturing you.”

  “You are!” Porky screamed. “All this soap ain’t good for me. Water’s just fine, all by itself.” He squirmed harder. “Don’t touch my head. Not my hair.”

  “Oh, quit acting like a baby.” Ellie lost her grip on his arm, and he splashed and twisted, trying to get out.

  Bealomondore solved the problem by pushing the wet child clear under, then letting him up. “Are you going to quit struggling?”

  Porky howled and thrashed. Bealomondore pushed him back under. He only held him beneath the water for a moment, but he could feel Ellie taking exception to his methods. This time he used his strategy. Daggarts and fairy tales would not make a dent in these kids’ determination to remain squalor-crusted.