DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [44]
He went back to work.
Bardon gazed up at the azure sky and suddenly missed Greer. Flying in this type of weather challenged their skill. The smell of rain on the wind and the sudden shift of air currents invigorated them both. And whatever it was that would later make lightning skittered across their skin as if to say, “Wake up and live.”
Fenworth could explain what happens in the sky. Bardon chuckled to himself, remembering “wizardry” lessons under the old man’s tutelage. Fenworth would try to explain and get it all garbled. Later, Librettowit would untangle the supposedly simple explanation given by the wizard. I miss the old wizard and his librarian.
He watched N’Rae as she communicated with the horse. Both she and the animal looked content. I miss Kale, too. I wonder if she can talk to animals. She never writes about the skills she’s acquired, only that life is exciting and the details of what everyone else is doing.
Bardon smiled as he remembered the contents of Kale’s letters, the tales of friends he hadn’t seen in too long. They’ve all changed so much. Toopka is reluctantly learning to read and is a wonderful cook. Regidor has become as clothes-conscious as Dar, but since he doesn’t have tailoring in his background, he makes frequent trips out of The Bogs to shop and “see the world.” Gilda comes out of her bottle to visit with them all in the evening. How I would like to sit in the castle’s cozy common room and listen to those conversations.
“That does it, then,” said the driver as he cinched and buckled the last strap. “Young lady, will you be riding with your granny?”
N’Rae flashed him one of her charming smiles and came to the little box he’d put down for her to step on. “Your Sadie-Up is a very happy horse, Grupnotbaggentogg.”
“Here now,” said the driver. “You know my name because it’s on the side of my carriage. But how do you know my horse’s name?”
Bardon stifled a laugh that this glorified cart would be called a carriage.
“Sadie-Up told me,” answered N’Rae as she hopped up and settled herself on the wooden bench beside Granny Kye.
“Well, she told you wrong. Her name’s Sadie, just Sadie. And why she’d be happy, I can’t tell you. She’s old enough to be retired and living peaceably in a field somewheres, but I can’t afford to get a new horse, and I don’t trust nobody to treat her kindly. She can be stubborn.”
“She likes the rubdown you give her in the shade of a trang-a-nog tree at noonmeal…and the feed bag. She likes your grandchildren who climb all over her and give her a most thorough and unorganized rubdown every evening in the sanctuary of her cozy stall. You give her an apple, a parnot, or a carrot every morning. And she loves your wife’s fried mullins.”
“What? Who’s been feeding her those? They aren’t good for her digestion at her age!”
Bardon handed N’Rae the minneken’s basket. “What was the name of the mapmaker, Granny Kye?”
“Oh dear, I don’t remember that.”
“It was Bromptotterpindosset, Grandmother,” N’Rae said.
“Old Bromp?” The tumanhofer clapped his hands together. “He’s right on our way. Last time I talked to him he was complaining of itchy feet. We’ll stop by on our way to the inn, and if he’s not gone off to take the cure, we’ll find his shop open and ready for business.”
“And if he’s gone off to take the cure?” asked N’Rae.
“Well, then, he’ll be gone for months!”
Grupnotbaggentogg jumped onto his seat. The two young men scrambled to find a place on the small cart. They stood on the narrow running boards and clung to straps suspended from the awning over the ladies’ seat.
The tumanhofer clucked his tongue and jingled the reins.
“Sadie-up,” he called.
The cart jerked and rolled forward, heading for the busy street.
15
THE MAPMAKER
They passed through a warehouse district, maneuvering