DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [61]
Bardon dug his fingers into his hair and pulled. “N’Rae is at the market with Holt.”
“Those two really should be chaperoned, young Squire. Of that much, I agree with Jue Seeno. I don’t think Holt is a bad boy, but natural, healthy attraction does happen between young people. Perhaps you’d better go find them.”
“First I must go back to the harbor and disturb Mayfil once more on your behalf.”
Granny Kye merely nodded.
Bardon ground his teeth. “Do you think you could stay here long enough for me to get you out of here?”
She tilted her head. “Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense,” he answered. “I want to get you legitimately released so you won’t be arrested again for breaking out of jail.”
Granny Kye laughed. “What a ridiculous thing to say!”
“Will you stay here?”
“Yes, of course.”
Bardon turned to leave. Granny Kye’s voice stopped him. “Because I worry, dear…on your way to the harbor, would you go through the market to see if you can find N’Rae?”
Bardon faced the prisoner again and bowed, stiff as usual and without the grace of Sir Dar. “Yes, it would be my pleasure.”
21
A SLIPPERY ENCOUNTER
Rain drenched the city. Bardon splashed through the market, not bothering to look closely at the few people out on the streets. N’Rae wouldn’t be strolling through a downpour. Holt would not want to be uncomfortable and, therefore, would have holed up someplace warm and dry. As Bardon neared the docks, the torrent increased. Water poured off his head, down his neck, and dribbled under his tunic. His soaked socks squished inside his boots. However, he dashed through fewer puddles as he neared the wharf.
Better drainage. A nursery rhyme came to mind, one that must have been planted in his ear before he was six. He couldn’t remember anyone chanting nursery rhymes at The Hall.
Drip, drip makes a drop
Tiny raindrops never stop
Flowing to the ocean
Downhill, downhill
Never standing still.
Not exactly great poetry. No wonder children’s ditties were not required reading.
He stopped under an overhang of a warehouse building. In a few more steps he’d be on the wooden planks that ran the length of the waterfront. The sheet of rain blurred the outlines of ships docked at the closest piers. He couldn’t see beyond a hundred feet. Just ahead of him, it looked as though someone had dropped their bundles and run. Not a soul could be seen in either direction.
Odd…There isn’t anyone about.
He waited. The spring rain definitely had a chill to it, and a shiver ran up his spine.
I’ll be drinking one of Granny Kye’s tonic teas tonight. That is, if we get her out. At least Mayfil’s office will be warm, and the rain is letting up.
He dashed across the remaining cobblestones and leapt onto the wharf.
His boots slipped. “Whoa!” he hollered and caught himself before he fell. He headed toward the three-story building that housed the office of the harbormaster. With his head ducked to keep the rain from pelting his eyes, he could see little but the boards under his feet. He caught sight of the abandoned bundles in front of him and only had a moment to wonder if they were rags or mops before the mass split into two forms and lurched to stand.
Quiss! Two quiss!
Neither of the creatures stood taller than the squire, but the quick motion to stop and retreat landed Bardon on his back. The beasts towered over him, waving their tentacles. His feet scrabbled against the slick wood as he propelled himself backward.
I can’t let them touch me!
One leaned over him, and Bardon rolled toward the street, falling off the platform and landing three feet below on hard cobblestones. He ignored the shock to his body, rolled farther away, and sprang to his feet. He had difficulty pulling his sword from its wet leather scabbard. But by the time the ungainly quiss had managed the drop to the street, he was armed. With a knife in one hand and a sword in