Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [55]
“Dibl thinks it’s funny too.” She lifted him up and held his cool body next to her face. She giggled. “I assumed the mariones in the village knew almost everything there was to know. Now that I’ve been questing, I see they knew next to nothing, just like me. I’d like to go back and show them who’s smarter now.”
Quick as a flicker of flame, Dibl reached out and nipped her chin.
“Ouch!” She jerked him away from her face. “Why’d you do that?”
The little dragon gave a throaty growl.
“What is he trying to tell me, Gymn?”
The impression flowed into her from both dragons.
“Mean-spirited?” She clamped her jaws together. “I think it would be fun.”
This time Dibl bit her on the back of her thumb.
“Stop that!” She switched the dragon to her other hand and put the tiny wound to her mouth. “You need to go to bed.”
She slipped the dragon into the pocket that had once held his egg.
For the second time that day, tears welled in her eyes. “I think we’re all tired.”
Gymn jumped to safety as she shifted onto her side on the blanket pallet and determinedly closed her eyes.
“Good night,” she said through clenched teeth.
Kale felt a touch on her forehead like a kiss. The pleasant warmth of the caress almost woke her. But the cool, damp mist of morning all around urged her to pull the moonbeam cloak closer and sleep. A thought like a dream told her to rise from bed and search for something. She rolled over and sighed.
Again the urge to get up and seek someone or something disturbed her slumber. She looked around the gray dawn. Only ash-covered embers lay in the campfire bed. She could make out the forms of tents and sleeping comrades. Fog obscured the countryside beyond the camp.
Celisse’s head moved from side to side as she kept watch, but the dragon did not reach out to her rider. When Kale told Celisse that something had prodded her awake, the dragon answered that no one had stirred from their beds.
The hush of night hummed like a lullaby. Kale stood and stretched. She wanted to enjoy the sensation alone and walked toward the kimen falls. Following the sound of the stream, she came to the odd cascade.
She sat on the damp grass, her cape protecting her from the chill.
“I wish I could play a flute like Dar or Regidor,” she whispered. “I can hear a melody in my heart. The music says Wulder is wonderful, full of peace and wisdom, banishing worry and strife. If I were Metta, I’d know a song to sing.”
The gray mist swirled, thinning for a moment on the opposite bank of the rivulet. Kale saw a figure standing away from the bank.
“Who’s there? Leetu?”
She rose to her feet, reaching with her mind.
Her pulse quickened, and she took in a sharp breath. In only a moment, she’d found the stepping stones and crossed to the other side. She could now see the flowing cut of a court jacket, the froth of lace at the cuffs, the dark boots that came up past the man’s knees.
“Paladin,” she whispered.
He turned, and his face shone as if moonlight touched him.
The first time she had seen him, Kale had thought he was very handsome. But now she realized his attractiveness came from his expression rather than his features. Oddly, Paladin and Risto resembled each other—dark hair, blue eyes, a straight nose, a strong chin, and a high forehead. But Paladin’s face held laugh lines and tenderness in his gaze. Risto’s brow was furrowed with stern lines, and his haughty expression and cold eyes made her shiver.
Paladin held out one hand, and she stepped into his embrace. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to him breathe.
“Paladin, I needed you.”
“I know, my child, and I need you.”
She tilted back her head to look up at his solemn face. “Are we going into Creemoor to rescue my mother?”
“No, Kale, you must go another way.”
“But—”
“I knew this would be hard for you to understand, so I chose to talk with you first. You’ll go to Prushing.”
“Why?”
“Here come the others. We’ll talk together.”
Out of the mist came Dar, Regidor, and Bardon.
The three men saluted their leader.