Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [32]
“Who’s coming?” asked Toopka.
The wizard growled, glared at the child, and pointed his bony finger her way. Toopka’s small frame rose into the air and floated across the room, landing in the hammock she called her bed.
“Tut-tut. Tomorrow, child, tomorrow.”
The lights went out, and Kale found herself in her own bed with the cover tucked around her.
How did I get here? Fenworth! I’ll never sleep. I’m too excited. I want to talk to Dar. I even want to hear what Bardon has to say about the battle with the mordakleeps.
In the background, she heard Toopka. “We didn’t get a bedtime snack.”
Regidor’s voice rumbled from some distance away. “You ate before you went to bed the first time.”
“But this is the second time. We didn’t have a second bedtime snack to go with the second bedtime.”
“I’ll fix you a second bedtime snack in the morning. You can have it for breakfast.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Kale smiled and rolled over. She closed her tired eyes. They were suddenly too heavy to hold open. The adventure seemed like something from a book. But no, it was real. She and Regidor had done something spectacular.
It’s a shame I don’t know how we did it.
She rolled over and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
“I didn’t even get to say hello to Dar,” she grumbled and promptly fell asleep.
14
LESSON ONE
“Time!” Wizard Fenworth entered the room lined with bookcases and stood with his hands folded over his beard.
Just minutes before, the wizard had hushed their excited chatter and banished them to a library.
“Lessons first,” he’d said, quelling their desire to go over the spine-tingling details of the night before.
All the occupants of the room raised their heads from the books they held and stared at Fenworth. Librettowit looked annoyed. Excitement quickly registered on Toopka’s and Regidor’s faces, a bit of wariness on Dar’s and Bardon’s. Kale tried to touch the wizard’s mind to see if she could pick up a clue as to what he meant.
“Tut-tut, Kale.” He shook his head at her.
She looked down, slightly embarrassed but unrepentant. He’s not really mad at me.
She heard his distinctive chuckle in her mind and looked up to see him wink in her direction. She smiled back.
Fenworth clapped his hands together and then rubbed them together vigorously. “What do you say? Shall we begin?”
Librettowit cleared his throat. “That depends, Fenworth. What is it you propose to begin? Preparations for noonmeal? A quest? The laundry? Research into the geographical structure of Mount Kordenavis?”
The wizard frowned. “At times, Wit, you are entirely too frivolous for a librarian. I refer to the apprenticeship, of course.”
“Of course.” The tumanhofer nodded and returned his attention to his book.
“Kale, Regidor, come.” The wizard grabbed the edge of his cloak and swirled it around him, turning in place. “Toopka and Bardon, you may accompany us.”
Toopka sprang to her feet, tossing her small book on the table in front of Regidor.
Bardon slowly stood. “I’m not a prospect for wizardry, sir. I’ve no talent.”
“No sense?”
“No sir. I said no talent.”
“No talent! No sense! Nonsense. Come, my boy. You may observe.”
Bardon closed his book, Knights in Service, and placed it carefully on Librettowit’s table.
“On your feet, Kale, Regidor. We depart.”
They followed Wizard Fenworth onto the wide branches serving as walkways around his tree castle. They had to trot to keep up with the old man’s long, purposeful stride. He led them to the front door and into the common room.
Kale leaned against the doorjamb and watched Fenworth, Toopka, Bardon, and Regidor. Bardon had immediately settled in one of the chairs in the sitting area. Regidor balanced on his toes, his attention riveted on the wizard. The wizard stood next to the worn kitchen table, patting his long beard. Toopka hopped onto a three-legged stool, put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Her eyes were glued to the old wizard.