DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [139]
She sighed and smiled. “I’m so glad. I thought you might be part of the illusion as well. In which case, I would be alone. But you’re not repeating.”
Bromptotterpindosset glanced first at Bardon and then at Regidor. “Does anyone know what she’s talking about?”
“I think,” said Bardon as he stood, “these maps are useless in our present circumstances.” He moved toward Kale.
“What does he mean?” the tumanhofer asked Regidor.
Regidor rose to his feet and looked down at Bromptotterpindosset. “If this place is under a spell, the maps will not guide us out.”
The meech followed Bardon, and the mapmaker got up clumsily. “See here, I’ve been around the world, and there has never been a time when my maps failed me. Even if I couldn’t determine where we were by landmarks, the stars remain constant to the celestial charts. You, yourself, said the sun never lies.”
“Yes,” said Regidor over his shoulder, “but is that the sun?”
Bromptotterpindosset glanced at the sky and then sputtered, “Ridiculous! How could the sun not be the sun?”
Regidor ignored him. “Tell us what you’ve seen, Kale.”
She pointed to a limb above them. “That bird will take off, and three leaves will fall to the ground.” She pointed to the dirt. “They’ll come to rest there, making a triangle.”
The bird took to the air, and the leaves landed in the dirt just as Kale predicted.
“Next a bee flies among those white flowers, then a bluebird carries a twig to that tree.”
The three men watched the insect and the bird.
“Coincidence,” scoffed the tumanhofer.
Bardon and Regidor cast him disapproving glares.
“Next,” said Kale, “the cloud goes over the mountain peak.”
Bromptotterpindosset shifted in irritation. “Anyone can see which way the cloud is going.”
Kale ignored him. “Notice the three leaves are gone.”
They looked to where dirt lay in the cleared patch.
The cloud drifted out of sight.
“A squirrel will pick up that nut and bury it over there.”
“I’m convinced,” said Bardon as the squirrel flicked its tail and grabbed the nut.
“What does it mean?” asked the tumanhofer.
Regidor frowned at the shorter man. “It means we’re lost unless we can break the spell.”
Kale put her hand on Bardon’s arm. “We broke a similar illusion in Risto’s dungeon with music. Dar played his flute.”
Bardon reached inside his tunic and pulled out his small silver instrument. He played a few random notes. Nothing happened. He played a scale. Nothing. He played the first bars of a popular tune. Still nothing. He looked to Regidor. “Any ideas?”
“We could try interrupting the cycle.”
“It’s the bee’s turn to make an appearance,” said Kale.
Regidor stood ready beside the flowers and scooped the insect out of the air with his bare hand. He threw it to the ground and stepped on it.
“It didn’t sting you?” asked the tumanhofer.
“My forefeet are covered with very thick skin. But that’s beside the point. It didn’t try.”
A minute later, the bluebird flew by with a twig in its beak.
“So,” said Bardon, “the destruction of a bee did not disturb the order of the illusion.”
“What do we do now?” Bromptotterpindosset asked, while looking around nervously.
“I doubt that anything is going to attack us,” said Regidor.
The tumanhofer’s eyes snapped back to glare at the meech dragon. “I didn’t expect that something would. It’s just”—he shuddered—“this place is unsettling. Nothing’s real, isn’t that so?”
“Mostly,” said Regidor, patiently. “I believe the ground under our feet is real. It perhaps doesn’t look like this ground we see, but we are standing on something.”
“You’re a clever fellow,” said Bromptotterpindosset. “You’ll figure some way out.”
Regidor inclined his head but said nothing.
Kale wiped her hands on her britches. “Could we build a gateway, Reg? You and I have studied them and repaired them, and I helped make one. Bardon did too. Shall we try?”
“It will be difficult, if not impossible. One needs to know one’s exact location in order to begin.”
After two tries, they gave up.
“Don’t quit!” exclaimed the tumanhofer. “Get us out of here.”
“I don’t see