Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [42]
“I’m busy?”
“Yep. You’re learning to be a princess.”
“Princess?”
“No, a princess. But I don’t understand why Wizard Fenworth is giving Regidor lessons on being a princess too.”
“The word is ‘apprentice,’ Toopka. It means someone who is learning a trade. Regidor and I are bound to help Wizard Fenworth, and in exchange he is obliged to teach us his trade.”
Toopka was silent for a moment. She shifted slightly, and Kale moved the blanket over the little doneel’s shoulders. The child relaxed into a ball.
“I think it would be more fun to be a princess,” she sighed just before her breathing evened out.
Kale ran a finger over one furry, tufted ear. “It depends on whether the princess can stay at home or must go out to save her country.” Kale let a long breath flow from her lungs and took another one in. “It depends on a lot of things, like who’s the queen, and whether she is good or evil.”
18
MOTHER
Kale wandered through the mushroom grove looking for the particular type Dar wanted for cooking. She repeated the description to Metta and Gymn as they flew around her. Metta, in particular, could not keep the image in her mind. Instead, she sang mushroom songs with such a variety of lyrics that Kale had to shush her to keep her own thoughts clear.
Kale repeated the instructions out loud. “The top of the cap is navy blue, mottled with purple. The fleshy underside is a rich brown, and the stalk is creamy tan with veins of green. A mature specimen will be at least four feet tall, and we are only to bring the cap.”
Metta began singing a song about three children afloat on the Pomandando River in the cap of a blue-green mushroom. The words formed clearly in Kale’s mind, although her ears heard only a tune sung in the syllabic language of the minor dragon.
“Metta, stop!” she commanded. “Your songs are beautiful, but they are not helping.”
The purple dragon let out a long trill. Kale tensed in anticipation. A singing dragon who felt unappreciated could sing arias that scraped across one’s nerves.
Gymn flew to hover next to Metta. Kale interpreted the cooing noises Gymn made. The male dragon encouraged the ruffled Metta to put up with the insensitive o’rant.
In mock anger, Kale put her hands on her hips and frowned at the two. “Don’t forget I hear everything you say.”
Gymn poked the she-dragon with his wingtip. Metta giggled and did a sideways maneuver that unbalanced the green dragon enough for her to race off. He chirruped with glee and gave chase.
Kale pushed the moonbeam cape off her shoulders so that it hung down her back in a narrow curtain. Trying to keep an eye on their quick, darting flight, she squinted in the brightness of the late morning sun. She sent a message that only Gymn would hear.
Thank you, my little friend. Keep her happy and out of the way while I find this blue and purple, green and tan, edible delight for Sir Dar.
With a sigh of relief, she resumed her search. She enjoyed walking among the colorful toadstools. Most were as high as her shoulder and had a leathery texture.
Dar said the younger ones would be more suitable for cooking, and those would be closer to the forest edge, under the shadows of the tall trees.
She made her way toward the woods but without any hurry. She had plenty of time since Dar would prepare the mushroom steaks for the evening meal. The colors and shapes of the growth around her enchanted her eyes. Even the rich, earthy smell pleased her.
An unfamiliar feminine voice spoke with hushed urgency into her mind. “Kale. Kale, is that you?”
Who’s speaking?
“Over here, Kale, under the armagot tree. I dare not come out in the open. I’m not supposed to be here. Oh please, come to me, Kale. I can’t stand the waiting any longer.”
The gentle voice pulled at Kale’s heart. She took a few steps closer to the towering trees and tripped over a smaller mushroom, breaking the cap off as she fell. She rolled to the side, dusted off the knees of her breeches, and picked up the large, bowl-like piece of mushroom. Dark brown folds of moist and tender substance clung to a smooth,