DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [14]
Three years of intense training to always choose the more honorable course, and still I have to consciously make the decision to help where help is needed.
He eased his leg into a more comfortable position and rubbed the calf muscle where the snake had grabbed him. He looked up at the multitude of stars and wished the doneel statesman were with him now. The Wizards’ Plume now graced a spot a tiny bit closer to the top of that southwestern mountain peak.
“Sir Dar, I would like to hear you say again, ‘There can be as many wrong reasons to do the right thing as there are stars in the sky. There might even be more than one legitimate right reason. But there is never a right reason to do the wrong thing. Not ever.’”
He watched the sky for some time, even saw a shooting star. When the mountain air became too chilly for comfort, he rose to his feet and strode to his bed. The secluded house sheltered three women, when it was supposed to be his sanctuary for several months.
Bardon sat on the only chair in his small sleeping chamber and pulled off his boots. He lay down on top of the covers, his hands behind his neck. What would be a proper principle for the happenings of this day? One readily surfaced in his mind. “Wulder gives His servants their needs according to His wisdom, not by the reasoning of man.” Principle thirty-nine.
The next morning, a cloud cloaked the lake and valley. Tiny whiffs of air swirled the white vapor as Bardon made a tour of the clearing’s circumference. He found no unusual animal signs, and Greer reported nothing had interrupted his sleep. Of course, that didn’t signify much. Bardon had known his dragon to sleep through thunderclaps that woke wine-sodden ne’er-do-wells.
The young man climbed over the rocky projection toward the water. The dragon skimmed the surface of the lake and landed next to him.
“Let’s go for a swim, Greer.”
Bardon tossed a bundle to the ground. He pulled off his tunic and shirt and sat down to work on his boots.
“No, I’m not changing into court dress to impress the ladies. I’m cleaning up to be more comfortable. I feel like I was dragged through a lake backward.”
Greer bobbed his head, and a rumble emanated from his throat.
“Thank you, Greer. I appreciate your evaluation of my comedic attempt. I, too, think my sense of humor is developing nicely.”
Having shed the rest of his clothing, Bardon snatched up his bar of soap and dove into the chilly water. Greer followed, wading into the lake. The mist hovered over the water, thinning and eddying and lifting as the sun grew stronger. By the time blue sky canopied the lake from one rim of mountain peaks to the other, Bardon was walking up the grassy slope to the cabin. He presented himself, freshly groomed and dressed in the best he’d brought with him, at the breakfast table. In the back of his mind, he heard Greer chiding him about his gussied-up appearance.
Mistress Seeno twitched her nose at him, her whiskers bouncing. “You don’t smell quite so fishy this morning,” she squeaked.
Bardon smiled from his place beside her. He felt more confident in clean clothes, when freshly shaven, and with his hair in place. N’Rae brought dishes to the table. He caught her eye and winked.
“None of that,” said Jue Seeno. “The girl’s too young and senseless to be attaching herself to the likes of you.”
Bardon ignored her, and as soon as Granny Kye took her seat, he addressed Wulder.
“We thank You for this food and for the hands that prepared it. We ask for guidance in every step of this day. By Your might and wisdom, may we live and breathe.”
They ate turtle-egg brouna and a pastry filled with razterberry jam. The brouna had herbs, cheese, and wild onions folded within it.
“This is delicious, Granny Kye. Thank you,” said Bardon after swallowing the first bite.
“I only cooked it,” she answered. “Mistress Seeno put it together.”
Bardon nodded at the minneken. “Thank you, Mistress.”
“You’re welcome, I’m sure.” She spoke the words formally, preening again, touching her collar in a manner that indicated