Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [117]
“What you have,” explained Regidor, “is a usurper whose servant is planning to usurp him. Pretender tries to seize Wulder’s authority, and Risto tries to move into Pretender’s position. That’s going to be a nasty bit of business.” He tilted his head in a gesture Kale knew well, and he spoke even more deeply. “And where are you in all this, Gilda? You are a pawn.”
He moved around the table, closer to the other meech. “But Kale was making a point before we got sidetracked.” He knelt beside her. “You can choose, Gilda, whom you will serve. Creator or Destroyer.” Regidor looked down at the hands she kept so still in her lap. “Put your hand on the table, and I will show you the difference.”
Kale expected her to refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation, Gilda put her gloved hand on the shiny black surface.
“Will you remove the glove?”
Again, the hesitation. Again, the compliance.
As they focused on the meech’s hand with its scaly skin and fingernails that came close to being claws, an image formed in the palm. A small plant unfolded. A stem stretched upward, topped by a bud. The bud opened with pale pink petals uncurling around a golden center. A shadow fell over the beautiful blossom, and the plant shriveled to black stubble. The image vanished.
“Creator or Destroyer?” Regidor whispered. “You can choose, Gilda.”
Gilda clenched her fingers into a fist. “You are a fool, meech dragon.” She snatched her hand back from the table and held it against her chest. “You have to clear the field before you can till the soil. You have to break up the ground before you can plant the seed. Destruction is a part of the process.”
Regidor stood with a sigh. “You do not plow down a field of corn to plant weeds, Gilda. Open your eyes and see.”
Gilda stood. The top of her hat came to Regidor’s chin. With her shoulders squared, she looked poised to attack. Kale felt energy building within the female meech’s body. Kale tensed, ready to spring into action should the woman strike Regidor.
Regidor spoke with urgency. “Why do you wear the veil, Gilda?” He paused for an answer, but the female did not give him one. “Risto told you these people would shudder at the sight of your face, didn’t he? He destroyed your self-confidence with a few words. He chained you to his side with lies.”
“You wear a cowl.” Gilda’s words resounded in the tent like hammer blows.
“I have friends from each of the high races. My appearance does not frighten them.”
Kale felt Dibl stomp his little feet on her head, and she giggled. “I can tell you Regidor was kind of cute as a child, and now I think he’s rather handsome—for a bald man.”
Regidor relaxed, threw her a grin, and waggled the hairless ridge that passed for eyebrows. “I didn’t know you befriended me for my stunning appearance.”
“It’s the charm of your smile,” she answered.
“Go!” The word exploded from Gilda. “I do not welcome your presence. I do not believe this act of camaraderie, meech dragon.”
“My name is Regidor, and I am at your service.” With a swift movement, Regidor lifted Gilda’s clenched fist to his lips and kissed it. “Open your eyes, fair lady. Do not be afraid of what you will see.”
She pulled her hand away from him and turned her back to the intruders. Regidor looked for a moment as if he would lay his hand upon her shoulder. Instead, he shrugged and marched out of the tent. Kale followed.
The three wizards, Bardon, and Dar joined them as they strode away from the tents and toward the village.
“What did we learn?” asked Dar.
“They are very second-rate potion makers,” said Fenworth.
“But none of their products is truly poisonous,” added Cam.
“They are overpriced,” said Bardon.
Lyll smiled. “The poor mother is justified in her complaints against her husband and son’s foolishness.”
Dar nodded. “These tidbits are interesting, but our main focus during Kale and Regidor’s visit with the fortuneteller was to keep them safe.”
Regidor looked back at the two men now standing beside the ornate wagon. “You kept them from attacking?”
“No, we spoke