Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [69]
“But you’ve been shut in this room by yourself.”
He shook his head again. “No, I’ve been strolling the hallways.”
“Regidor!”
“Don’t worry. I had my tail curled around and tucked into the belt under the robe. I had the cowl up over my head. My arms were crossed and hidden in the sleeves. I looked just like a monk on a meditative walk.”
She’d seen him practicing his disguise. He strolled with a measured step, his head bowed, and his entire person enveloped in the clerical robes. Granny Noon had provided the costume, and Kale felt positive it held secret qualities.
Regidor had grown at a phenomenal rate. He stood taller than she now, and his tail, which had been such a cumbersome nuisance to him when he was just weeks old, now fit the rest of his body. He looked so much like an o’rant it made her wonder where meech dragons had come from. They were neither one of the high nor the low races.
“What did you see?” she asked.
“Most of the inhabitants of this manor are just what they seem, hard-working servants. But a few vibrate with an expectation of great wealth. Some battle with memories of misdeeds. Others shy away from contemplation of what exactly they must do to gain this fortune.”
His spoon paused over the bowl. “And the glimpse I got of the master of this manor…” The meech dragon shuddered. “He’s evil. The drive to fulfill his desire roils out a hue of turbulent purples and black. The colors clash and spark, setting off streaks of lightninglike disturbance in the air around him.”
Regidor set the spoon down in the near-empty bowl. “It troubles me, Kale. There is strength in this man I can’t explain.”
“One of Risto’s minions?”
Regidor nodded soberly. “One would assume.”
The loft of the stable functioned as guestroom to the visiting servants. Only Dar, as Librettowit’s valet, had a room inside.
With their stomachs full of delicious supper, all the travelers were ready for a good night’s rest. Bardon and Bruit bedded down at one end where a couple of low-ranking stableboys also slept. At the other end of the loft, Toopka and Kale curled up on a coarse blanket with the moonbeam cape spread over them. The minor dragons hid in their pocket-dens.
In the middle of the night, Kale awoke. She listened for some unusual noise that would have roused her from a very pleasant sleep. Soft snoring filtered between the floorboards. A horse stirred and blew. Another horse stomped nervously, bumped the gate of its stall, and snorted.
She sat up.
A window spread a broad band of moonlight across the loft. Ghostly white hay almost divided the room in half, but Kale could see the men sleeping beyond.
Bardon, wake up!
The lehman hunched a shoulder and relaxed again on his pallet.
Bardon, wake up!
He sat up and looked across the space, directly at her.
There’s something down below. Something besides the horses and stable-hands.
Bardon pulled on his boots, drew his sword from the scabbard beside his pallet, and shifted silently to his knees. He crawled toward the edge.
She followed his lead and crept to meet the lehman at the top of the ladder.
At first she saw nothing but shadows.
“There!”
Her eyes followed Bardon’s pointing finger.
A shadow moved.
She held her breath.
A form moved away from the wall and crossed to the large barn door. He stood inside with the door slightly ajar, his attention riveted on something outside.
What is he? she asked.
“A ropma.”
Kale tried to remember anything she knew about ropmas. Other than they were one of the seven low races and usually occupied themselves herding animals, she knew nothing.
They’re harmless, right?
“He could be.”
What do you think he’s doing here?
“You’re the one who can find out.”
Me?
Kale felt the ripple of exasperation from her comrade.
“Kale, go into his mind and find out why he’s here.”
Oh!
She pressed her lips into a straight line and instantly threw up a guard so Bardon would not hear her fuming. Of course, she should have thought of it first.
No more stupid mistakes. My thoughts belong to me and Wulder. I stand under