DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [110]
A whoosh of air captured Bardon’s attention.
Regidor had paced off a few yards and released his wings. “I’ll make a reconnaissance flight and bring back information. You might as well eat, then break camp.”
His wings spread to their full span and beat the air twice. On the second downward motion, Regidor lifted off the ground. In a moment, he swooped over the hills and soared away. Soon he looked like a large bird of prey in the distance.
The talk, as the group walked back into camp, centered on speculations. Bardon listened but didn’t participate. His thoughts centered on this new twist in the plans to find and rescue the sleeping knights.
Ahnek pulled on Bardon’s sleeve.
“But why are we going to try to find Bromptotterpindosset?” he asked. “Couldn’t this be Wulder’s way of taking away the problem of what to do with him?”
Bardon clapped a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Some might think so, but when you read the Tomes, you find that Wulder expects us to treat someone like Bromptotterpindosset with respect, just as we would treat Paladin with respect, or would want to be treated with respect ourselves.”
Ahnek shook his head. “What does respect have to do with it?”
“I have two pairs of boots, Ahnek. One pair is new and looks good. The other pair is old and looks bad. I’ve cleaned my boots and put them on the windowsill to air, because the polish I use is strong and smelly. The good pair looks better. The bad pair looks only passable. It begins to rain, and I retrieve my boots out of the rain. Do I fetch both pairs in out of the rain, or just the new pair?”
“Both.”
“Why?”
“Because both pairs need to be out of the rain, not just the good pair.”
“Correct. They are my boots, and I will take care of them. We are Wulder’s people, and He will take care of us.”
“Whether we are shiny and new, or old and stinky?”
“I never said the old boots were stinky.”
Ahnek wrinkled his nose. “Old boots just are.”
“Well, yes.” Bardon roughed up the lad’s hair. “And Wulder takes care of His people with equal respect, whether they are old boots or new.”
“But Bromptotterpindosset is not one of Wulder’s people at all.”
“But Wulder has put the mapmaker in our midst. And before we were able to hand him over to someone else’s sphere of influence, he fell into trouble.” Bardon smiled at the image in his mind. “Bromptotterpindosset is an old boot in the rain, Ahnek, and we must retrieve him.”
“B-but he isn’t our boot, Squire Bardon. And he isn’t Wulder’s boot either.”
“It’s one of those hard things to understand, but Wulder is very interested in all boots.” Bardon laughed.
They breakfasted on fresh journey cakes and fried wild onions. Bardon thought the sweet corn flour biscuits and crunchy onions an unusual combination, but he didn’t want to spoil N’Rae’s pleasure in providing the morning meal. She had done most of the cooking herself. Granny Kye had pulled out her easel. An hour later, Bardon urged the old emerlindian to pack up her art. They had completed preparations for departing.
“We are going to follow Regidor and, hopefully, catch up with the grawligs who have Bromptotterpindosset.”
She merely nodded.
Bardon went searching for N’Rae. He found her communing with a furry animal twice the size of his foot. He’d never seen one outside of drawings in a book, but he guessed it was a steppesman. The burrowing animals earned their name by the locations of their colonies and the odd habit they had of congregating around an object. As these furry animals sat up on their haunches and chittered at one another, they looked like a group of men discussing something of great import. The creature saw Bardon’s approach and dashed down his hole.
N’Rae gave the intruder an exasperated look.
“Was he saying anything important?” asked Bardon as he gave her a hand and helped her to rise from her seat on the ground.
She brushed off her skirts. “I was learning quite a bit about the local weather.”
“You were discussing the weather?”
“Not exactly. I was trying to get information about anything unusual around here, like a place