DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [70]
The baby nestled in N’Rae’s arms as she sank to the blanket-padded crate and leaned against another. Ten children sprawled on their pallets, scattered in an uncertain order around the unlikely nursery.
Bardon tiptoed to her side and whispered, “I think I shall have a talk with Granny Kye.”
N’Rae stifled a yawn. “What about?”
“It isn’t right that you should have the responsibility for all these children.”
“I don’t mind.”
“You’re worn out.”
“I’ll nap now if you go away and quit pestering me.”
“Pestering?”
She grinned. “It is so easy to ruffle your feathers.”
He glowered at her. “It was my impression that I was offering to assist you in making the workload equitable. I wasn’t aware I was pestering you.”
“See?” She slipped down onto the floor and lay down, careful not to wake the baby. “Now go away and don’t pester Grandmother, either.”
“She’s left you to tend fifteen children and a baby by yourself.”
“Nonsense! Mistress Seeno helps. You help. And five of the fifteen I never see, they’re so taken with being sailors.”
“Granny Kye could help.”
N’Rae relaxed, her head resting on her arm. “Yes, she could, but what she’s doing is important.”
Bardon scoffed. “Painting a picture?”
N’Rae’s sleepy voice drawled over her words. “Her pictures are wonderful.”
“Have you seen it?”
She smiled with her eyes closed as if she viewed a dream. “Just wait and see, Bardon. You’ll be surprised.”
She snored, a petite and ladylike whuffling as she breathed out.
I see that further protestations will be useless. The one I wish to persuade has found a way to unequivocally ignore me.
He stood and froze, tilting his head to concentrate on a slight nudging in his mind, the indication that his own thoughts were not the only thoughts dwelling there. He grinned and rushed from the room, heading for the upper deck.
The sun flashed within the foam, marking the water in long lines where the gentle waves crested and melded back into the sea. The smell of salt and seaweed and the fish caught for their evening meal filled his nostrils. The breeze tangled in his hair and whipped it away from his face. He no longer used the pomade, and it would have been a useless attempt under the circumstances. The wind across the seawaters constantly freshened the sails of the ship, billowed the men’s shirts, and fluttered the clothing of the people on deck.
Bardon had given up trying to keep his ears out of sight after Holt had made his comments. He wanted to prove the marione farm boy wrong. As he worked among the crew and openly practiced his forms each morning, the sailors showed no interest in the slight point atop each of his ears. Their lack of interest at first surprised him. Then he felt chagrin for having thought that his ears would cause a downpour of condemnation. He’d been wrong.
After Bardon had gotten over berating himself for being a fool all these years, he remembered Dibl. The minor dragon roused an awareness of the absurd in those around him. While Bardon traveled with Kale on their last quest, the little orange and yellow dragon had delighted in making Bardon laugh at his own foibles. Just the memory of Dibl landing in his hair and scratching his scalp with tiny claws made the squire smile.
And then he sobered as he analyzed the great difference between his life now and his previous life within the confines of The Hall. Grand Ebeck had been right to throw him out of those hallowed walls. In the outside world, the petty digs of immature boys meant little. As a youth in The Hall, they had devastated his morale.
Eying the busy workers around him, he allowed that feeling of separation to settle in his chest for a moment. He sighed heavily, remembering the anguish of being a lonely child, too different to fit in and too shy to use his difference to his advantage.
I wonder what Holt Hoddack would have done under the same circumstances.
The presence in his mind laughed,