DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [53]
“I think,” said Bardon, “that there used to be a lot more commerce between the different provinces of Amara.”
One of the men shook his head. “Don’t pay to send your products anywhere but close.” He gestured toward the Morchain Range, rising to the east. “You go over the mountains, you have to deal with large, uncouth, smelly grawligs. The rivers, lakes, and wetlands reek with hideous mordakleeps who will take away all your senses. They say in some foreign places, the remnants of Risto’s military bisonbecks walk the streets with the high races. I know we don’t venture out as much as we used to, but it’s safer.”
“We do some trading by sea.” A farmer broke off a tall blade of grass and stuck it in his mouth.
“That we do, but it’s not the bulk of our income.” That man shrugged as if it were no matter.
“We produce what we need,” said the oldest. “It’s not so bad being off to yourselves.” He nodded to Greer but spoke to Bardon. “When you leave, would you circle the valley again so the youngsters can get another gander at the dragon?”
Bardon smiled. “I’m going back to Ianna on horseback. I’ll ask Greer to put on a little flying show for the children, though. To tell you the truth, he’s a bit of a ham and won’t be put out at all.”
For that flagrant impertinence, Greer butted the center of Bardon’s back with more than an easygoing bump. The farmers laughed and kept up a steady stream of talk as Bardon secured the saddlebag onto Greer’s back and sent him off with a brief farewell.
The boring ride back exasperated Bardon. The horse stopped to graze anytime he wasn’t prodded along. The road became crowded with people and carts either going to market or returning home. Bardon chafed at the slowness of his progress.
Did Holt find a ship? Did Granny Kye give away our belongings to some worthy cause? Was the minneken discovered? Is N’Rae admiring Holt’s handsome face and ignoring his smudged character? Has the old tumanhofer finished his preparations for the journey? How did I ever get caught up for a quest with this unlikely crew?
He pulled the horse up short and took a minute to watch the people around him. O’rants, tumanhofers, and mariones. Men, women, and children. Mostly common folk with just enough coins to live on. At this time of day, after the duties and strains of their work, they plodded along to their destinies without much apparent pleasure in their journeys.
I haven’t thought of a principle all day. He saw a young child asleep on his father’s shoulder, being carried home. “The body grows weary, the mind will tire, but the soul dances before Wulder in the evening of life.”
He tapped his heels against the horse’s sides. Even as the sun lowered to the horizon, signaling the end of a day, he hummed the tune to a sunrise chant. The music sparked the joy he felt in knowing Wulder cared for him and the quest he was on. He began to sing,
“The hour’s a gift. The road’s a grant.
Enjoy the journey as you see His hand
cover your errors,
wipe your tears,
straighten the way,
straighten the way.”
Scribe Moran would say the first “straighten the way” is an observation, and the second is a request.
Wulder, I petition You to straighten the way.
The sight of the quaint inn reminded him of the quest he had become embroiled in with two naive emerlindian women. His sabbatical had been shelved for the time being while he performed his duty.
He stabled the horse and gave the boy working there a coin to groom the animal. He entered the inn through the kitchen with a much heavier step than when he had left in the morning.
“Oh,” said the cook when she saw him, “then you’ve already heard the bad news.”
Bardon frowned. “What bad news?”
“You haven’t heard, then?”
“No.”
She wrung her hands in the