Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [35]
“Wizardry is all a matter of appreciating Wulder’s creation, taking the time to understand the intricacies of the universe and then applying that knowledge. Quite simple, really.
“Slowly, slowly, step by step. Wulder has established what will go together and what will not. You are merely following His directions.”
Toopka’s high-pitched squeal pierced the room. “Oh! Look! Look!”
Kale opened her eyes. Two more cakes sat on the table beside the first.
“Excellent!” Fenworth beamed and clapped his hands. “Enough wizard’s cake for company, I should say. Unless Paladin sends us more than one urohm.”
15
THE COMPANY ASSEMBLES
The guests did not arrive that evening, which meant the cakes could not be eaten. Fenworth finally relented and cut one cake into nine small pieces. The eighth piece was shared by Metta and Gymn. The ninth piece was given to a big blackbird named Thorpendipity, who landed on the windowsill when Fenworth whistled.
Toopka went to bed grumbling over the cakes going stale and woke up with a bad stomachache. A second cake had disappeared during the night, with only a few crumbs left to testify to its former existence. Those crumbs dotted Toopka’s bed covers.
The only ones awake to witness the little doneel’s suffering were Dar, Kale, and the minor dragons. Dar shook his head and put a small copper teakettle on the old stove.
“We’ll scold you,” Kale said, “after you’re well enough to listen. I’ve got something Granny Noon gave me. It’ll make you feel better.”
“I won’t ever eat a whole cake again,” promised Toopka. “I won’t ever eat anything again.”
Gymn curled up on Toopka’s shoulder while Kale fetched the moonbeam cape and spread it out on the kitchen table. She reached into a hollow and handed a packet of dried, pink leaves to Dar to brew.
“Something is wrong,” she muttered, running a hand over the front pockets. Six of them held unhatched dragon eggs.
Toopka groaned loudly. Kale ignored her and took out the eggs, one by one, placing them carefully on the inside folds of the cape. The sight of the eggs struck awe in Kale’s heart. Paladin had charged her to tend the unborn dragons and raise them once hatched. She’d even been called the Dragon Keeper. The responsibility seemed too enormous for a former slave girl.
The fourth pocket held a stone, not an egg. When Kale saw the irregular shape and dark gray color, she dropped the offending rock on the table and moved on to the last two pockets. In only a few seconds, Kale looked with dismay at the row of eggs. She had five dragon eggs and one smooth stone.
Toopka’s groaning subsided to a whimper.
Dar came to stand beside Kale, putting a comforting hand on her stiff arm. “Nothing can be stolen from a moonbeam cape. Did you move the egg?”
Kale shook her head slowly.
“Then the only way it could have been taken is if you allowed someone to ride within the cape, and that someone took the egg.”
Toopka’s noise ended abruptly.
Dar and Kale both turned to look at the forlorn figure huddled beneath a light blanket in her hammock.
Kale took a step toward the doneel child. The little girl’s ears perked upright on top of her furry head, and she dove beneath the covers.
“Toopka and I,” said Kale as she continued walking, Dar beside her, “went for a walk several days ago. It began to rain, and Toopka rode back under my cape.”
Dar put his hand on the blanket and tugged, but Toopka held fast from underneath.
“I’m sick,” she wailed.
Dar growled. “Because you got up in the middle of the night and stole a whole cake, it seems you are still a common street thief.”
“I didn’t steal the egg.” The muffled protest quivered.
“Then where is it?”
“I just wanted to see a baby dragon hatch. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Kale patted the trembling hump of blanket. “The egg has to quicken before it begins the hatching process.”
Toopka’s eyes appeared at the edge of the covering. They were big and full of wonder. “It quickened.”
Kale stifled a moan. Paladin had trusted her with the