DragonKnight (5 page)

“You didn’t have time to go on a quest. You were supposed to decide whether you will become a knight or not,” she said. “Grandmother explained to me just what a sabbatical is. But you’re going on the quest instead. Maybe the Dragon Keeper could go with us instead of studying.”

Bardon stopped and faced her. “Do you have a particular reason that I should know about? Is there a reason why we would need a Dragon Keeper on this quest?”

N’Rae shook her head, sending her blond hair flying. “No, but I would like to meet the Dragon Keeper.”

He started walking again, an image of Kale in his mind. He would like to see her. She must have changed some in three years. They’d each written about six times. The letters chronicled their advances in their respective studies. Kale had included anecdotes about the colorful people she lived with. She mentioned that Toopka never sat still for lessons but loved following Taylaminkadot around doing household chores. Regidor sprouted stubby wings and didn’t like being teased. He did his best to hide them. Her mother visited often. Fenworth slept through most days. Cam had trained a fish to jump through a hoop. She didn’t say why the lake wizard had bothered to do such a thing.

Bardon had never been able to think of something worthy of relating when he had a pen in his hand. He knew his letters bored Kale. How could they not?

N’Rae interrupted his thoughts. “Are you going to take all of your things with you? You brought a lot of books. I’ve only seen a few books, but I can read. My mother taught me.”

Bardon pressed his lips together before answering. The emerlindian sure had a lot of questions. “I’ll leave the books. I shall come back here to finish my sabbatical.” Bardon laughed to himself over the optimism of that statement.

“Where’s Greer now? Is he fishing again? Does he eat huge quantities of fish?”

“Once he’s sated, he doesn’t eat again for up to a week. Right now he’s flying just because he enjoys flying. He’ll come if I call him.”

“Can you mindspeak with him no matter where he is?”

“Mindspeaking doesn’t work over a long distance.” He stopped and looked down at her again. Her endless questions annoyed him, and yet he felt protective of her. Her sweet expression softened his usual reserve. “You had best go back and help your grandmother and Mistress Seeno. Do you have any more questions before you go?”

“Just one.” She hesitated. “I noticed right away. Well, when the snake was dragging you toward the lake, and you were all wet.”

Bardon frowned. What had she noticed?

N’Rae looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with wonder. “Your ears,” she said. “You have emerlindian ears. Why do you hide them with your hair? Why is your hair brown? How old are you? Why don’t you have an emerlindian name?”

         
6
         

O
NE
P
ART OF
B
EING
P
REPARED

Bardon watched Greer fly out over the western rim of the high mountain valley. He turned on his heel and marched back to the cabin. The ladies, true to their word, were ready in just under an hour. He entered the cabin, closed the front door, and opened a trapdoor in the floor. He had already deposited their few bundles at the bottom of the ladder. Granny Kye went down first, followed by N’Rae carrying Jue Seeno’s travel basket. Bardon stepped down, closing the trapdoor behind him.

Common blue lightrocks embedded in the stone walls lit the small room, making N’Rae’s pale hair gleam azure. A ripple of distortion outlined the gateway. The first time he’d seen the phenomena, he had thought his vision was impaired. A ring of prismlike lights encircled the entry. Outside them, he could see the wall. He could see the same stone wall in the center. Even through the odd lights, he could make out the cellar foundation. But he knew that once he entered the gateway, he would leave rock and mortar behind. He would travel hundreds of miles with only a few steps.

The cellar’s musty air filled his lungs, and he longed to get this part of the journey over with.

N’Rae bounced on her toes, eager to go.

He frowned, remembering the curt words he had hurled at her to cut short her stream of personal questions. He’d caused the hurt that had washed over her face. Her look of confusion had added fuel to his anger, and he’d barked an order for her to return to the cabin.

N’Rae had not mentioned his ears, nor his rudeness, since. She had not sent one look of recrimination his way. She merely sloughed aside what he could not and resumed her cheerful demeanor.

Now she tilted her head at the gateway, looking a lot like her grandmother as she pursed her lips. “Will it feel the same, or will it be easier?” she asked.

Bardon frowned at the portal to Norst. “In my experience, it has to do with the size of the gateway. This one is rather small, so the feeling of being squeezed should be quite profound.”

“I’ve been through this one before,” N’Rae explained. “I meant, does it get easier each time you travel through gateways?”

Bardon shook his head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Methodically, he tossed their belongings through the passage. Each bundle hung suspended for a moment in the light-infused air, then disappeared.

When the last pack had traveled to the tavern in the city of Norst, Bardon turned to the eldest of their group. “Would you like me to go first, Granny Kye?”

Her dark brown eyes met his, and he knew she saw through his assured demeanor and understood his anxiety. Bardon relaxed a mite when he saw her tilt her head, a gesture N’Rae often mimicked.

“Please, Squire Bardon, go first.” The old granny’s mellow voice filled the cramped cellar. “It will be good to have you greet us on the other side.”

He nodded to her, then to N’Rae, and strode through the opening. For one moment the sticky air clung to him, and then the lights exploded, pelting his skin with hundreds of gentle strokes. He felt every bit of his exposed hands and face tapped repeatedly. Pressure bore in on him, and just when he thought he’d pass out from lack of breathable air, he stepped into a darkened room filled with wooden boxes and a scattering of their satchels.

Leaning over, he rested his hands on his knees and drew in deep breaths. Remembering the next traveler would come through the gateway and bump into him, he forced himself to trudge forward a few feet. He sat on an upended barrel and closed his eyes.

N’Rae came through the gateway as if she had been hurled by some mighty force. She landed at his feet, gasping for air. The basket tumbled from her arms, and the minneken rolled out of the open flap.

She squeaked furiously. With his ears still affected by the passage, Bardon couldn’t make out her words. He carefully scooped her up and handed her to N’Rae.

Tears ran down the young woman’s face. She gulped and looked up at the squire. “Mistress Seeno says she doesn’t know why we make such a fuss about going through. She’s also disgruntled that I dropped her and her basket.”

“It’s her size. She isn’t affected the way we are.”

Granny Kye stepped into the room, breathing a little heavily. To the squire’s eye, the emerlindian did not appear to be much affected by her journey through the gateway. Upon seeing Bardon’s startled face, she smiled.

“One must relax and trust. You know in your head that the gateway will carry you from one place to another. If you trust in your heart, the journey is easier.”

Bardon nodded, a sharp jerk of his head. He knew a half-dozen principles from the Tomes of Wulder that said the same thing, more or less. He also knew he was better at quoting the principles than living them.

N’Rae busied herself, gathering the loose items that had spilled from Jue Seeno’s basket. Bardon picked up a tiny cushion that had bounced across the floor and landed by his toe. He crouched beside the young emerlindian as he handed it to her and glanced inside the minneken’s traveling quarters.

The wickerwork bed, chairs, and tables remained in place. Upon closer inspection, Bardon saw that lashings secured the furniture to the floor and walls of the small room. Only those things not tied down had scattered over the coarse wooden planks of the tavern storeroom. Jue Seeno ran into her little abode. Her muffled squeaks still sounded like tart protests.

The door opened behind them, and a man with a heavy canvas apron over his clothing started as he saw those inside. N’Rae put herself between the basket and the newcomer, successfully blocking his view.

“Granny Kye,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you, was I?” He wiped his hands on a towel as he spoke. “You’d think I’d be used to all this coming and going after five years, but I’m not.”

The old emerlindian came forward and smiled at the short marione tavern keeper. “We won’t be with you long, Master Onit.”

“Shall I prepare you a meal?”

“We had breakfast a while ago, but thank you.”

“Um, are you planning to stay in my storage room for long? I have workers coming, and I was just going to hide the gateway.”

“A few minutes,” she answered, and he bowed out of the room.

Granny Kye immediately turned to Bardon. “I fear we have encountered our first problem, Squire Bardon.”

He stood from where he had finished helping N’Rae pass tiny hats in to the minneken. He lifted an eyebrow, waiting to be informed.

“N’Rae and I,” Granny began, “and, of course, Jue Seeno have no funds. Perhaps you have money with which to purchase our meals, lodging, and transportation.”

Bardon shifted his jaw to the side and back again. “I have a little. I didn’t expect to need much currency in a mountain cabin.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “I’ll go out and make some inquiries. Does this place have a parlor where you women will be comfortable?”

“No, but the inn across the street does. We will wait for you there.”

Bardon pulled a leather pouch from a pocket in the lining of his tunic. “Here are some coins. If I don’t return by noonmeal, you may need it.”

Bardon walked through the streets of midtown Norst, sizing up the people and the nature of the city. He made a swift survey of the races represented in the market around him. The mixture of populace contained tumanhofers, mariones, and o’rants, typical of most cities in the south-western regions of Amara. He saw no small kimens nor any huge urohms. This didn’t surprise him. The smallest and largest of the seven high races tended to keep to themselves. He saw two doneels, obviously businessmen by their dress. But no emerlindians walked along the market district.

I wonder how amazed these people would be if they knew of their two visitors. The presence of emerlindians among the other six high races has steadily declined for over a hundred years. And what a clamor would arise if they discovered Jue Seeno!

He glanced around at those on the street once more.
This crowd is representative of the statistics Professor Gledupkonstepper liked to quote in class. “Only three of the high races populate the majority of Amara’s average cities.”

The economic situation for the township seemed stable. Open doors with people going in and out indicated that the businesses he passed were thriving. Small donkeys pulled carts over the cobblestone, creating a background beat to the musical quality of the conversations. Friendly greetings, cheerful hawking of wares, and shoppers’ chatter as they moved from one store to the next wiped the frown from Bardon’s face. Optimism pushed aside his pragmatic temperament.

The question is, How can I find work for a day or two so that I can fill our purse with enough coins to get this quest underway? That comet is not going to wait for me to gather funds.

He stopped and read the names of all the shops on a bustling corner.
Grocer, Dressmaker, Music, Barber, Books, Furniture. Not one thing I could lend my hand to and earn a significant amount of money. I shall have to look further.

He strolled down one street, looking for a busier tavern than the one that held the gateway. The Rafters filled the bill. He crossed the threshold and scanned the crowd for a likely looking group of men. He headed for a half-dozen workers eating a hearty meal. They must have been up early and labored hard to be downing such a large quantity of food at midmorning.

Ordering a tall mug of Korskan tea from a passing maidservant, Bardon sat down at the long plank table where the men ate.

“I’m looking for work,” he announced.

The men nodded their heads and continued to chew.

“I’m squire to a doneel in Wittoom and find I need some traveling funds.”

They nodded again. Bardon waited.

One of the marione men took a draft of his ale, wiped his bearded mouth on his sleeve, and looked at the stranger.

“Corduff is hiring mine workers. Good pay if you live.”

“Naw, don’t send him there,” said a red-headed o’rant. “Gallatennodken is looking for a scholar to translate a parchment brought in by one of his treasure seekers. Said it was in some ancient doneel language. Maybe he can help there.”

A tumanhofer lifted his head from the soup bowl he held to his lips. “Heard he found a linguist two days ago.”

Except for slurping and smacking of lips, the crew at the table fell silent. The maid delivered Bardon’s drink, and he gave her a coin. The cold tea tasted good, having a citrus tang that cut the otherwise sweet brew.

“There’s Hoddack,” said the red-headed o’rant.

The other men remained silent.

“Hoddack’s looking for someone to break six young kindias. Their training time is running out.”

The tumanhofer removed his face from his soup bowl again. “Tell him what happened to the last breaker. Only fair.”

The o’rant snorted. “Got stepped on is all. The job is to stay on until the animal is biddable. The breaker didn’t do his job.”

Bardon’s fingers, encircling the glass mug, tightened as he looked deep into the tawny brown liquid. He’d ridden kindias as part of his training. Taller and wider than horses, the beasts could travel at incredible speeds through rugged terrain. Their backs sloped down from their muscled necks and powerful shoulders. This slant encouraged gravity to pull riders off their backs. Kindias would not carry any burden other than one passenger on a specially designed light saddle. But the ride was incredible. Bone-jostling at tremendous speeds. As dangerous as flying, without the pleasures.