“Miss Ellie,” Cinder complained, “that’s not a river. It’s just a trickle of water.”
“You can drown in two inches of water, young man. Don’t argue with me.”
They reached stone steps, obviously built by tumanhofers. Ellie and Bealomondore climbed to the rough door easily.
Cinder rushed to help lift the wooden planks upward. It swung open like the cellar door on Ellie’s family farm. Slanted golden rays of sun greeted them from the west. Their shadows stretched out across the grassy plain.
The children romped like springtime rabbits in the meadow. Tak settled in to trim down the abundant growth.
“They’ve never been in the country,” Ellie said. “Look how excited they are.”
“Come, hurry,” called Wizard Pater. He charged toward the glass wall.
“I can see it,” said Ellie, huffing a bit as she kept up. “When I first passed through, I turned around and couldn’t see the glass.”
“Neither could I,” said Bealomondore.
“Angle of the sun,” Wizard Pater yelled. “No time to talk about diffusion, reflection, and refraction. Fascinating, but I judge we only have three minutes to get you through to the other side. This rag is all but dry.”
He stopped by the wall. Ellie and Bealomondore caught up. The wizard showed no signs of strain. The tumanhofers panted. Ellie’s knees buckled, and she sat in the grass.
“Get up, girl,” demanded the wizard. “You can collapse on the other side.”
She struggled to her feet with Bealomondore’s help.
The wizard unwrapped the glass shards. “Aaah! Just enough moisture within the cloth to get you through. Ready?”
Ellie turned to the frolicking children. “I need to say good-bye.”
“No time,” the wizard said.
“Tak! I have to get Tak.”
The goat still foraged near the open door to the subter.
“Too far, no time.” Wizard Pater gave the bottle fragments and cloth to Bealomondore. “Now hold Ellie’s hand and just walk through. No problem.”
Bealomondore started to speak, “Thank you—”
“No time. Walk!”
They stepped toward the barrier, Ellie looking over her shoulder. “You will watch the children? They’ve made such good progress. And take care of Yawn and his little toughs. They really are just children.”
“Yes. Yes. Go, girl, or you’ll be left behind.”
Ellie felt Bealomondore tugging at her hand. She turned to find herself pressed against the glass. Part of Bealomondore had already penetrated the barrier.
Both hands were empty. Bealomondore spun around, but there was no sign of Ellie. Instead, he could see two wagons, his and another traveling cart that reminded him of caravan wagons the wanderers lived in, a tiny house on wheels.
He looked down at his clothes. His sword was at his side, even though he had not been wearing it in Tuck. He had on the same ragged shirt, coat, and pants that had been his uniform while away.
But his wagon and the old slow horse were right where he’d left them in the shade. The sun hadn’t even moved enough to change the direction of the shadow.
A marione came out of the back end of the large cart. He waved. “There you are!” He beckoned him closer. “Come. Have some refreshments.”
The voice sounded familiar. The man looked familiar. Bealomondore squinted to read the lettering on the wooden side of the wagon. “Rowser and Piefer Insect Emporium. The finest supplies in medicinal bugs.”
“Rowser?” Bealomondore dashed across the field. “How did you get here? What are you doing here?”
“Vacation.” He smiled and held out his arm, gesturing to the lovely countryside around them.
“He’s on vacation,” fussed another voice Bealomondore remembered. “He sits and reads.”
Rowser held up a finger. “And records.”
“While I run around with a butterfly net, catching specimens for our shop.”
Bealomondore came to a halt beside Rowser. “Piefer, where are you?”
He heard a scraping noise from under the wagon. Soon Piefer’s head popped out. The bug man was on his back, and he grinned up at the tumanhofer. “I was just checking on the night beetles. We have to keep them cool and alive.”
Bealomondore made a disgusted face. “Surely you don’t feed them to your patients alive.”
Rowser looked up from the book he’d opened. “Alive? The patient or the bug?”
Bealomondore looked over his shoulder again. Where was Ellie? To Rowser, he answered, “I assume the patient is alive. A corpse would be uncooperative when asked to swallow your brew of medicine.”
The emerlindian Piefer climbed out from under the wagon and slapped the loose dirt from his pants. “I look like I’ve been working in the field. But then, I have been working in the field. Why do you look like you’ve been wallowing in nature?”
“I—” Bealomondore stopped. He’d been in Rumbard City, trapped in a bottle. How was he to tell these men he’d met several years ago about his latest adventure?
He searched the horizon, the edge of a small wood, and the distant meadow.
“What are you looking for?” asked Rowser.
“Tell me”—Bealomondore would wait for an appropriate time to go into his lengthy tale—“have Paladin and Queen Tipper married yet?”
“She’s still Princess Tipper until the coronation, and that’s still months away.”
Rowser tapped his finger on the open book. “Just barely seven weeks.”
Piefer took exception to the correction. “Seven weeks is almost two months. Thus the plural is necessary. Singular would mislead Bealomondore. They will not be married in a month. She will be crowned, and they will be married in almost two months. Plural.”
Bealomondore scratched his head as he once again scanned the fields. “I came out on the same day I left. She either did the same, or she wasn’t able to get through.”
“What’s that, Bealomondore?”
“I’ve lost a friend, and I’m not sure if she has vanished to a different time or a different place or didn’t make the journey at all.”
“Ah, I see,” said Rowser.
Piefer nodded his head in agreement. “He’s been gadding about with wizards again.”
Rowser’s eyebrows arched. “Only explanation. Did you want tea or something stronger?”
“I’ll stick with tea. Your something stronger might still have bits of legs and antennas in it.”
Ellie stumbled over a runt bush and landed hard on the palms of her hands. They stung. She quickly turned over and sat up. The rock ridge she’d thought looked like a stone dragon rose out of the ground right in front of her. Her feet touched the part that looked like the tip of the tail.
She recognized this spot.
She could see quite well across the valley. No misty cloud hung over the land now. But water soaked the ground, and she stood up to avoid getting any wetter.
No sign of Bealomondore. No sign of the bottle. Over to the south she could see smoke curling out of the Hopperbattyholds’ cabin. To the west, she caught a glimpse of the road to Pence. Her aunt and uncle would have long ago passed that crossroads village.
She searched the terrain once more, looking for Bealomondore. Should she turn back to walk home or go on to the road? Stopping in the village seemed the best thing to do. She could ask what day it was, if the royal wedding had been magnificent, and if anyone had been looking for her.
As she trudged over the rough moor, she wondered if she should go looking for Bealomondore or go home to see if he came looking for her.
“He will,” she said aloud, then felt foolish. Tak wasn’t with her, so she couldn’t pretend she was talking to him and he understood. “What are people going to say?” She raised her arms a bit and let them fall back to her sides. “What am I going to say?”
She thought perhaps she should go to Ragar and find Wizard Fenworth. She had a message to deliver from Wizard Pater. But s
o did Bealomondore. A clump of coarse wire grass slashed her ankle as she walked by. Tiny cuts above her sock bled a little, not enough even to wipe away. She returned to mulling over her immediate future and stumbled over a tangle of bracken.
With her eyes on the ground, paying better attention to where she put her feet, Ellie reached the road and turned toward Pence. Perhaps she could get a ride back to Glenbrooken Village and walk home from there.
She moved to the side of the road when she heard a carriage approaching from behind. She didn’t bother to look as the coach rumbled past. It splashed mud on her clothing, and she jumped farther out onto the sloped grass beside the road. With her head down, examining the new stains on her tattered skirt, she heard the order to stop.
A screeching rendition of her name caught her attention. “Ellicinderpart!”
Aunt Tiffenbeth?
The carriage looked very familiar. She trotted over to stand next to the coach and look up at the people inside. Her aunt and uncle stared at her in disbelief. Aunt Tiffenbeth’s face had turned a horrid shade of reddish purple. Her eyes were wide and slightly unfocused. Uncle Stemikenjon looked perplexed.
“It is indeed your niece.” He patted his wife’s hand, which clutched the open window’s edge.
She jerked her hand away and used both to cover her face. She moaned.
Uncle Stemikenjon merely raised his eyebrows and addressed Ellie. “How did you reach this point before us? And what happened to your clothes and your carpetbag?”
“Have her get in,” Aunt Tiffenbeth ordered from behind her hands. “Before someone sees her.”
“Oh, right,” said her uncle. He opened the door, descended, and gave his arm to support Ellie as she stepped on the small runner beneath the door. “I apologize for being tardy in bringing you in. I’m a bit baffled by your appearance. Not just your physical appearance, your clothes, your missing carpetbag, but also that you managed to come all this way in the inclement weather and get here first. An appearance out of nowhere, so to speak.”
“Where is the goat?” asked Aunt Tiffenbeth, her words still muffled behind her hands. “She doesn’t still have the goat, does she?”
Uncle Stemikenjon gave a quick glance around in all directions. “Apparently not.”
Ellie settled on the upholstered bench beside her aunt. “Tak is … is being taken care of.”
The coach swayed as her uncle climbed in and took his seat opposite the ladies. He shut the door, leaned out the window, and ordered, “Drive on.”
The carriage jerked into motion.
Aunt Tiffenbeth took her hands from her face, shuddered when she once again saw Ellie, and turned her eyes to the scenery passing.
She whispered in a dramatic undertone, “Tell me what happened, Ellicinderpart.”
Ellie couldn’t think of a good place to begin. Fortunately her aunt prodded. “What happened to your carpetbag?”
“A gang of wild children stole it.”
Her aunt nodded as if she heard of such things every day. “And your attire?”
“I’d gotten muddy, so I stopped in a cave to change.” She paused. “And to get out of the rain for a while.”
Aunt Tiffenbeth’s eyes drifted back to survey her niece, then darted back to the more pleasant view of grass and trees and cottages. They approached the crossroads village.
“And why did you choose that particular combination of clothing?”
Ellie looked down at her mismatched outfit. What she was wearing hadn’t concerned her for the months she’d been in Rumbard City.
“The children pulled my clothes out of the bag and threw them all over the place. They carried off most of my belongings. This is what I could find to wear.”
“Stemikenjon, you shall inform the magistrate of this area about this barbaric crime.”
“Of course.” He nodded his head, and Ellie realized he’d picked up his book and was reading again. Perhaps he and Old One, or Humbaken Florn, could discuss books. Master Florn could use a friend with similar interests. Maybe she could arrange for Gramps and Humbaken Florn to meet. Once she found Bealomondore and Wizard Fenworth and they broke the bottle around the city.
Aunt Tiffenbeth’s expressions reflected the different emotions she sorted through before she could handle the situation in her usual sensible, ordered manner. The family often counted on her to rise to any challenge that faced them. “The clothes in the trunk on the roof are too fancy to wear on the journey. We shall have to stop at a dress shop in one of the villages.”
Ellie’s former appreciation for her aunt crept back. She’d resented being dumped beside the road to take care of a wayward goat, but her aunt would come through for her. The shock was wearing off, and the practical details became the focus of attention.
Her aunt went on to describe how they would manage to buy clothing and get Ellie changed without causing a stir. Aunt Tiffenbeth would purchase the needed garments, then Ellie would change inside the coach with the windows in place and the curtains drawn.
Ellie gasped at a sudden revelation. She’d come out of the bottle at the same place she’d fallen in. And she’d also come out on the same day. She blurted a question out without thinking. “Are we still going to the coronation, to the wedding?”
Aunt Tiffenbeth frowned at her. “Of course. You aren’t to be punished for this little mishap. Obviously you ran into circumstances beyond your control. It is fortunate that you are not hurt. Clothes can be replaced.”
Ellie started to throw her arms around her aunt but stopped. Her aunt wasn’t quite ready to accept an embrace from a dirty ragamuffin niece.
Ellie settled for words. “Thank you, Aunt.” She smiled at the top of her uncle’s head as he bent over his book. “Thank you, Uncle.”
He grunted.
“Aunt Tiffenbeth, do you know of a society artist named Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore?”
“Oh, my girl, you are unsophisticated. Everyone knows of Bealomondore. He’s famous for various escapades. He was important in the war and helped save the country. He’s been on quests with Paladin. Perhaps that’s where you’ve heard his name. He’s a good friend to the princess and is mentored by Verrin Schope himself.”
“Do you think we can meet him in Ragar?”
“Oh, dear girl, no. Your uncle and I don’t belong to that circle of society. They are rather above us. Not that I would want to be caught up in that level of our culture. So much is done merely to impress. An inordinate amount of expense is involved in dressing and providing hospitality and traveling to galas. I’d rather your Uncle Stemikenjon spend his money on our own little comforts that please us and make us comfortable. The alternative is to spend it to garner the favor of people you hardly know and to accrue praise of little worth.”
Ellie pondered her aunt’s words. Perhaps she was right after all. Perhaps she and Bealomondore had been parted as the gentlest way to end their relationship. The chances of meeting Bealomondore in the crowded city, among all the high society people, were slim. Nonexistent.
Then she remembered Bealomondore’s proposal in the subter. And his kiss. The tingle in her toes at the memory determined her course. She was going to look for him and hope he was looking for her.
Ellie stood with her aunt and uncle on a balcony overlooking Palace Fairway, the street that led directly to the Amber Palace. Thousands of people lined the streets below. The coronation parade proceeded slowly along the plotted route. Aunt Tiffenbeth’s friend pointed out the personalities in each open carriage as they passed in front of the hotel.
“This carriage has the councilors and their wives. I’d name them all, but I only want to name a few of those participating in the parade. You’d be overwhelmed by a hundred or so names you’ll never need to know.”
Aunt Tiffenbeth smiled and nodded. “I do want you to point out Sir Beccaroon.”
“All grand parrots look alike, but I will try. Dikendraval has a program.”
She leaned forward a bit to look down the line of p
eople watching the parade to where her daughter stood with Ellie. “Dikendraval, let us know when the carriage with Sir Beccaroon comes by.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Ellie bounced on her toes. “There!” She pointed to a carriage way down the street that had just turned the corner to make the approach to the palace. “That’s him. That’s Bealomondore!”
Aunt Tiffenbeth arched an eyebrow at her. Ellie saw the look and interpreted what her aunt wanted. Ellie refrained from bouncing like a country bumpkin and folded her hands demurely in front of her waist. Aunt Tiffenbeth nodded her approval.
Ellie closed her eyes and tried to reach Bealomondore by mindspeaking. When she listened with her mind, she heard thoughts from all the people around. The sudden uproar shocked her, and her hands came up to cover her ears. That didn’t help at all, so she closed her mind against the cacophony.
She turned to her new friend, Dikendraval. “I’ve got to go down there. I must speak to him.”
Dikendraval’s eyes grew big, and she clamped both hands on Ellie’s arm. “You can’t. It’s not safe for you to be down there in the crowd. You could get knocked over. And there are thieves who would steal your reticule. And”—Dikendraval stretched out her last objection with a dramatic flair—“you could ruin your reputation.”
“I don’t have a reputation, Dikendraval. I’m nobody.”
The city tumanhofer schooled her face into an expression of haughty sophistication. She leaned forward and whispered, “My mother would tell. I love my mother, but she is a gossip, and the juicier the tidbit, the more she will chew on it.” Dikendraval let her staged face slip. “We’ll have to attract his attention from up here.”
“How?”
Dikendraval leaned forward to look at her parents. Her mother cast her a severe look, and she straightened up. “It’s hopeless, Ellicinderpart. My mother would catch us for sure. I never get away with anything.”
Ellie’s eyes had been on the progression of the parade. She turned back to look straight at Dikendraval. “I’m going down there.”
Dragons of the Watch Page 31
