DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [99]
Bardon walked over. He poked his hand in a slanted gill and hoisted up the three-foot-wide, disk-shaped fish. “It’s a smoothergill.” The fish wriggled, and Ahnek jumped away.
“Feel the skin,” Bardon said, holding the fish out toward the young o’rant.
Ahnek backed away, waving his hands in front of him.
However, Sittiponder came forward quickly, with his arm stretched out in front of him. In his haste, he bumped his friend as he passed.
“Hey!” said Ahnek.
“Sorry.” Sittiponder touched the fish and stroked its side. “It feels like it’s been oiled. I don’t feel any scales.”
The smoothergill gave an exhausted flap of its tail.
“Good eating,” said Bromptotterpindosset. “You want to learn how to clean it?”
Ahnek shook his head. “I have chores to do for Pont.”
“Wasn’t talking to you, boy,” the tumanhofer spoke gruffly. “Sittiponder, come with me.” The mapmaker took the fish from Bardon and strolled away with the young tumanhofer following.
“Do you think he can?” asked Ahnek. He took a step to follow his new comrade, but Squire Bardon stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I’m sure he can,” he answered.
Bardon turned back to see N’Rae still standing near the edge of the cliff and gazing toward the western horizon. He walked to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. The Wizards’ Plume marked the sky with a bright starlike blaze followed by a short tail.
“We still have time,” he whispered and turned her to the camp. “Let’s go see what a smoothergill tastes like.”
They ate an hour later. The thick white meat of the smoothergill cooked well in a pan placed on rocks at the fire’s edge.
Jue Seeno chewed rapidly, her whiskers bouncing. “I admit I thought it would be greasy, but that oil seems to have fried away. Delicious!”
Sittiponder had only one small cut on his thumb from his first attempt to clean and fillet a fish. N’Rae wrapped his wound with a small, clean rag. He wore a huge smile as he ate.
The questing party rose early the next morning and flew all day with two stops to rest the dragons. In the evening they landed in a meadow surrounded by tall rock pines. Beside the campfire, Bardon remembered Kale’s story of her first battle with grawligs. He recounted the tale and held a rock pinecone for Sittiponder to tentatively explore with his fingertips. The weighty orbs had barbs that, once embedded, had to be cut out of fur.
The following night they reached an area populated by o’rants. Ornopy Halls had once offered shelter to Kale’s first questing party. Master Ornopy and his housekeeper, Mistress Moorp, welcomed them as Paladin’s emissaries.
As soon as Bardon crossed the threshold, he smelled Kale. Not that she was there. But a scent of citrus emanates from all o’rants’ skin. In this household of o’rants, the aroma floated on each current of air through every room.
He was well aware that his own emerlindian blood stifled the tangy smell rising from his pores. Ahnek needed several baths to erase the odor of the streets from his hide. Once or twice Bardon had caught a whiff of that identifying fragrance about the lad, but mostly Ahnek smelled of dirt and old sweat.
Bardon noticed Sittiponder’s nostrils quivering. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the fragrance of oranges, lemons, limes, and o’rants.”
“It’s nice,” the blind boy answered. “I like it.”
“So do I.”
They stayed two days, allowing the dragons to thoroughly rest. At midday on the third day, the small band of questers crossed the border into the Northern Reach. Stretching before them, miles of short, pale new grass rolled over the hills like a variegated carpet. For the most part, only shades of green and an occasional tree made up the landscape. But here and there, outbreaks of splendor spotted a monotonous stretch.
N’Rae exclaimed over patches of wildflowers that puddled the swells and hollows of earth with a melee of color. Bardon noticed the beauty only after the young emerlindian pointed it out. He then saw that