Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [57]
Toopka tugged on Kale’s sleeve. “You don’t know how to cook or sew or play music. Dar can do all those things.”
“Wulder gave different talents to people. Imagine if Dar and I fought over who would fix our meals, what a mess that would be. This way I leave him to do what he does best, and he leaves me to do what I do best.”
“What do you do best, Kale?”
The question stunned her. I was a good slave. A hard worker, obedient, quick. And I really liked taking care of the children.
Kale looked into the trusting eyes of the young doneel on her lap. With a grin growing on her face, she said, “Tickle!” and gently dug her wiggling fingers into Toopka’s sides, making her squeal and squirm.
The two toppled over on the grass, and Kale pinned Toopka.
“You’re fun, Kale. You’d make a good mommy.”
“I’m a long ways away from being a mother.”
“Wulder could fix it so you could have babies now.”
“Yes, but Wulder wants us to get ready to do a task so we’ll be counted good workers—like Dar and Bardon practice for battle. Wulder would want me to learn more before being a mother. He would also want me to have a husband.”
Kale let Toopka sit up. Kale smiled as she watched the little girl smooth her blouse and pick grass off her breeches, reminding Kale of Dar’s fastidious attention to grooming.
Toopka looked at Kale and wrinkled her nose. “Rules! Wulder should just cross out some. That would make it easier to remember the important ones.”
Kale laughed. “Fenworth says Wulder made His rules for good reasons. He doesn’t ever rearrange His rules on a whim.”
“On a wind? Like a sandstorm? Sittiponder said sandstorms are fierce. They’ll shred your skin like sliding down a gravel pit.”
Kale tried to capture an elusive memory. “I’m sorry, Toopka. I don’t remember who Sittiponder is.”
“He’s the blind wisdom speaker who lives alone under the stairs at the warehouses in Vendela. I used to bring him food, not just because of the stories he’d tell, but because I liked him.”
“How did he get so wise if he lived alone? Did he go to school?”
“He said if he was still, he could hear the words spoken in The Hall, and at night he collected wisdom while he dreamed.”
“Someday I’d like to meet Sittiponder.”
“So Wulder uses wind to change things when He wants to?”
“What? Where did you get such a strange idea? Oh no! I said, ‘whim,’ not ‘wind.’ A whim is a careless idea, one you didn’t think about very much, and it is likely to get you into trouble.”
“Well, Wulder wouldn’t go around thinking whims. I’ve decided you can’t marry Dar.”
Bardon’s shadow fell across them. “Marry Dar?”
Toopka grinned. “But Kale could marry you, Bardon. Then you could adopt me, and Dar could still be my uncle.”
A look of horror destroyed Bardon’s usually guarded expression.
Toopka, you said that on purpose.
“Of course I said it on purpose. How can you say something on accident?”
I mean you said that deliberately to embarrass Bardon—and me!
“Kale is t-t-too young to marry,” Bardon stammered. “And I, I have no profession.”
“You’re a servant of Paladin.” Toopka planted her fists on her tiny hips. “Isn’t that a pro-fes-son?”
“I was training.” Bardon ran his hand along the side of his head, smoothing the dark hair that never seemed mussed or at all uncombed. “I never got to the important preparation.”
Toopka stepped closer to him. “Paladin said I could go on the quest because I would be useful. I didn’t have any training. So if I am useful, you must be tons useful.”
Dibl came and landed on Bardon, next to his muscular neck. Bardon jerked and turned his head to eye the bright dragon perched on the brown material of his tunic. The warrior took in a quick breath, and as he released it, his face softened. He smiled. Then his shoulders shook gently, and a laugh escaped his lips. He patted the indignant doneel on her furry head and looked to Kale.
“I came to ask you,” he said, “if you’re ready to go. Paladin says there’s no gateway inside the city. We’ll have to enter the countryside.”
Kale stood as Dar approached with two packs slung over his shoulders. Librettowit followed.