Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [104]
The slave girls had been sent to bed long ago. A hired maid carried a few items from the kitchen to the tavern room, but the time for supper had long passed, and most of the patrons drank cider and swapped stories. No minstrel performed tonight. On rare occasions, a traveling entertainer spent the night, paying for his lodging with songs and stories. On Friday and Saturday nights, several local farmers would come in and play their fiddles.
But tonight it was quiet, too quiet. Kale had half expected Dar, and maybe even Regidor, to play for the locals. But she hadn’t seen them since they ate together several hours before.
“It’s too quiet!” Kale hissed. She abruptly stood, splashing over the rim of the tub as she climbed out of the water.
“If they won’t sing a song to keep my silly brain from asking myself the same questions over and over, then I’ll sing a song myself.”
She grabbed a large piece of old blanket and scrubbed at the goose bumps rising on her body. Dibl flew around her head, getting in the way. She barely opened her mouth and sang between clenched teeth.
“The general of the day,
He walked among his men.
He called them left,
He called them right,
He called them left again.”
Shivering, she slipped a nightshift over her head and wrapped a warm blanket around her thin frame. Dibl enticed Ardeo to join him in a silly dance above her head.
“The king, he came to see,
The men he sent to sea.
He called them up,
He called them down,
He called them back to me.”
She sat on a rickety stool to pull on one thick sock. Dibl left the area behind the curtain to go to the less confining space of the kitchen. Ardeo followed, leaving her in semidarkness.
“The cook, she had a duck.
She plopped him in the pot.
She dunked him in,
She pulled him out,
Whene’er the duck did squawk.”
Where is everybody when you want a distraction? Toopka chattering in my ear. Librettowit complaining about being a librarian on a quest. Dar whistling or tootling on some fancy noisemaker. Bardon looking like a statue and sending off emotions like a volcano. Fenworth crawling with bugs.
Kale leaned against the wall, sticking her bare foot between the floor and the bottom of the tub. A gap where the floor met the wall let frigid air in from the outside. She found the plug at the seam of the tub with her toes, and then expertly kicked with the side of her heel to pop it out. The bath water swooshed out of the hole and ran out of the building. She wiped off her foot and put on her other sock. She then snatched up the almost empty egg pouch by the leather thong and hurried out of the cold bath closet.
“Come on, Dibl, Ardeo.” Kale charged up the back steps and down the hall, stopping before the wooden door. She could hear Metta crooning. Looping the leather thong over her head, Kale tucked the pouch inside her gown, then knocked.
“Come in.”
Kale slipped in and quietly shut the door behind her. She put her things away and got out her brush.
“Come sit on the bed, Kale. I’ll brush your hair.”
“You’re too tired,” she objected.
“No, I’ve slept most of the day, and your little dragons have been healing my aches and pains. Come.”
The soft tone of her voice coaxed Kale into complying.
She sat rigidly on the large bed. The former slave girl would rather do the brushing herself. She took care of herself very well. And besides, her hair tangled easily, and the wet curls could be stubborn. But the woman eased the brush through the twisted locks. The bristles pulled gently through Kale’s shoulder-length hair. She relaxed with each tender stroke of the brush.
“Now, tell me about Dar and Toopka.”
Her mother’s request startled her. “How did you know about them?”
“Gymn and Metta.”
“You can mindspeak with them?”
“Kale, I am a wizard.”
“Oh yes,” she stuttered. “I-I guess I forgot. You don’t look like the other wizards I’ve met.”
“Fen and Cam? No,” she chortled, “I don’t look like those old men.”
The good-natured sound of her laughter set Kale even more at ease. At least Toopka and Dar