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“We expected the dragons to become uncooperative as they fell under Risto’s influence.
The bad news is that early on a cold morning, the colony of meech dragons was attacked
and driven into the Northern Reach.
“There’s a colony of meech dragons?” Kale looked at Bardon to see her surprise mirrored
on his face.
“There was a colony of meech in Wittoom. They secluded themselves in the Kattaboom
Mountains. Occasionally, a member of a warm-blooded race was allowed in to quicken
an egg. I believe that is how Risto got wind of Regidor, or rather the egg that was
Regidor.”
“Explain,” said Bardon, his voice cool.
“A meech dragon sent out a request for someone to come quicken an egg. This would
have been a message to a specific person, not a general announcement. But Risto heard of
it, followed, or had the person followed.
“The doneel traveling to assist the meech died on his journey. Soon after, a battalion of
bisonbecks descended on the colony. The fact that it was early in the morning aided the
attackers. No dragon moves very quickly on a cold morning when woken from a deep
sleep. During this raid, Risto acquired the meech egg. The entire cluster of dragons fled
to the north.”
“And at this time,” said Bardon, “the second egg was also stolen?”
“Apparently. My people have not had contact with the meech dragons since they
abandoned their homes and escaped. An envoy discovered the disaster on a routine
diplomatic visit. Of course, he had no way of knowing two eggs were stolen.”
“How did he know one was stolen and where the dragons had gone?” asked Kale.
“There’s a tribe of mountain ropma in the same vicinity. He questioned them.”
Bardon rubbed his fingers across his chin. “I take it meech dragons are not warriors.”
Dar grimaced. “Totally useless in a fight.”
Kale’s mind went to her meech dragon friend. Regidor slumbered. Kale touched his
dream of a table laden with rich foods and dismissed it. She turned to Dar. “So Regidor
has parents in exile in the Northern Reach?”
“Yes,” Dar replied.
“Will we rescue them?”
“That’s a problem for another day.”
Bardon put his hand on the hilt of his sword and looked to the manor. “What did
Librettowit find out from the Gransfords?”
“That many of the local farmers are having difficulties with their dragon comrades. That
is, except the Honorable Mr. Gransford, who claims to have a superior ability to
manipulate the dragons. That Mistress Gransford has an unpleasant desire to better
herself at the expense of her neighbors. That the girls are empty-headed, vain creatures
with no book learning whatsoever. That has disgusted our librarian more than the master-
of-the-house’s pride and greed.”
Dar paused. “I suspect we have uncovered a member of Risto’s network to debilitate
Amara’s economic structure.”
After a moment, he continued, “The dragons are an integral part of Amara’s commerce.
Dragons carry messages and products. For centuries, dragons have worked willingly
alongside the seven high races. A dragon’s nature requires it to develop a relationship
with one person or one family. This bond nurtures their hearts. Without this connection to
someone outside its species, a dragon will become depressed and waste away.”
Kale leaned against the rickety wooden shed, crossed her arms, and stared at the shining
white globe in the almost black sky. “I wonder why Wulder did that? Wulder created the
dragons, and He created a deep need in them to connect with the high races. He must
have a purpose behind His design.”
Dar winked at her. “Wulder always has a purpose. But sometimes His way of doing
things is so far beyond anything we can comprehend, we praise Him without complete
knowledge. Then there are those things that seem harmful. For those, we must wait for an
explanation. And until that day, we trust in His wisdom and goodness.”
Bardon spoke with a flat voice. “Wulder is always wise, always good.”
Dar looked at the young lehman with a furrowed forehead above his shaggy eyebrows.
“Very few people are privileged to learn that in their hearts. We almost always learn it in
our heads first, and then Wulder reveals it to our hearts.”
Kale turned on Dar. “There! You did it again. Only this time it was Bardon. You heard
what he was thinking.”
Dar chortled. “No, Kale. I do not have the talent of mindspeaking.”
“But you knew Bardon was concerned, because he can say the principles of Wulder but
doesn’t feel them.”
Dar shook his head slowly. “Kale, some thoughts are common to those who seek to
follow Paladin. Each individual tends to think that his problems in understanding his role
in life are unique. But no. Wulder has made us similar even in the places that cause us to
stumble. For that reason, we are better equipped to help one another.”
Bardon picked up a stick and examined it. Kale watched him, flooded with the feelings
that coursed through the proud young man’s heart. The onslaught came too quickly and
with too much intensity for her to decipher.
Odd. He looks so detached. So cold. Yet these feelings are fierce. If they were my own, I’d
be wailing.
At that moment, Bardon looked over at her. Their eyes met, and she read disapproval.
Hadn’t she told him earlier that delving into another’s thoughts was rude? She turned
away, unsure if the reprimand had come from Bardon or her own conscience.
She quoted Granny Noon, My thoughts belong to me and Wulder. She shook her head to
disperse the confusion of Bardon’s feelings jumbling her mind and tried again. My
thoughts belong to me and Wulder.
Paladin had told her she could always talk to Wulder. Wulder? Shouldn’t Bardon’s
thoughts belong only to him and You? I don’t really want to be this closely entangled
with his mind. What’s going on here?
“Discipline.” Dar’s voice broke through her musing.
Both Kale and Bardon studied the little doneel. Their eyes roamed over the shorter man’s
earnest face and the way he had his fists shoved up against his waist above the hips. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]