DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [107]
The meech turned his gaze on the tumanhofer. The mapmaker sat at ease, clearly a man accustomed to sitting at the tables of refined citizens. He held the others’ attention with a story of a deity popular among the Ataradari, a tribe on one of the smaller southern continents. This Ataradarian character of folklore rewarded cleverness and beauty from his powerful seat of authority on a mountaintop.
Bardon twisted his lips. Even a child learning the rudiments of the Tomes knows cleverness and beauty are temporal achievements and have nothing to do with lasting contentment.
“His colors.” Regidor’s voice interrupted Bardon’s thoughts.
What?
“You asked about his colors.”
Yes?
“He carries no dark hues indicative of transactions with Pretender. But none of his colors have clarity, either. All but a very few of these strands of muddy-colored light turn back, inward. They should encompass him in a circular pattern. The lack of symmetry is significant. He is a very self-centered man.”
Bardon’s throat tightened. We should be rid of him.
“Yes, now I see why you are eager to be rid of him,” remarked Regidor in a steady voice that did much to soothe Bardon’s distress. “He worked beside you to kill the sea serpent, and again, to escape the bisonbecks through the disintegrating gateway. But it was vital to his own personal safety that he do so. I think his decisions would be different should he need to choose between his own life and anyone else’s.”
Regidor placed a hand on Bardon’s shoulder but still did not speak aloud. “I am now convinced that this mapmaker would not choose his path based on the principles of Wulder or the commands of Paladin. Nevertheless, you cannot load him onto a dragon at this late hour. And you would have everyone upset if you announced your intentions. So…”
So?
“So, consult with Captain Anton tonight and arrange for Bromptotterpindosset’s transportation in the morning.”
I worry about his influence on our party. The way he spouts off his philosophy is very entertaining.
“You do your people a disservice. Look at their faces.”
Of those seated around the mapmaker’s table, all but Holt and Ahnek had lost interest. Sittiponder had a distant expression, as if he were listening to an entirely different conversation. N’Rae’s brow furrowed as if she could not quite understand what was being said. Granny Kye yawned, covering her gaping mouth with a scrap of linen she used as her handkerchief. Jue Seeno, with her tiny hands and an odd metal instrument in her lap, worked on weaving yet another fancy sash.
Quietly, Bardon and Regidor left the gathering around the teapot and went in search of Captain Anton. The young squire had to double-time to keep up with the meech dragon’s long stride.
“Tomorrow,” said Bardon as they passed by the cooking fire and the lo who was in charge of the evening’s meal, “we shall address the false philosophy that riddles the tumanhofer’s tales. Paladin said he was more concerned about the monsters of variance than the quiss.”
“Rightly so.” With his long legs, Regidor stepped over an outcropping of rock that Bardon had to hop onto before he could jump down to the other side. They were headed for the temporary dragon field where riders and dragons relaxed.
“I’ve pondered what Paladin said, and I think I understand,” said Bardon, breathing heavily. “Slow down, would you, Reg? I can’t talk and run to keep up with you.”
Regidor complied. Bardon took a couple of deep breaths and went on. “When people are confronted with an outside enemy, they band together for mutual protection. A physical threat unifies.”
“Correct,” said Regidor.
“But ideas, contrary concepts, shades of differing opinions, theories, these things shatter commonality.”
“I agree,” said Regidor. “A quiss rises up out of the mist, and one knows one must kill or be killed. A man says over a pint of ale at the tavern that he believes Wulder is one form of universal fable, and who contradicts him? No one. Yet his words are belittling the truth, wounding the strength of our convictions.”
Bardon laughed.