Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [7]
Kale frowned at the grim lehman.
Dar raised a hand, acknowledging the escort from The Hall. “One minute, Bardon,” he said. “I wish to thank the magistrate for his intervention.”
Well now, Bardon can’t like that. Dar is only a leecent and Bardon is a lehman. Surely, Dar should have called him by his title. And shouldn’t a leecent jump to do whatever a lehman wants?
Kale watched Bardon’s face for a reaction. Not a muscle twitched. He nodded solemnly and stepped out of the way of a maid carrying a tray of tall glasses.
Hmm? Our teachers keep reminding Dar of his new humble rank. But I bet Bardon lets Dar do what he wants, then reports his misconduct. He’s an official monitor, and everyone says that’s just a fancy name for a snitch.
Dar approached Magistrate Hyd and engaged the man in conversation. As a diplomat for his region, Wittoom, the doneel had traveled to every large metropolis and visited the courts of many rulers.
Kale admired Dar’s way with words. He could talk to a turnip farmer, a wizard, or a king and never utter an inappropriate comment. Dar could act like a noble, fight like a knight, and play like a peasant. He enjoyed everything he did, and he did most things well.
Gymn and Metta flew off Kale’s shoulders. She was about to call them back when she saw what had attracted their attention. A serving maid stood in the window of the Gander with a platter. She put it down on the broad sill, and the dragons landed on either side.
The blond maid dipped a curtsy to the small dragons and giggled when they inclined their heads toward her, thumping their tails once in a friendly greeting.
“The mayor in the town where I grew up had a minor dragon,” she said. “She was blue and predicted the weather.”
Someone called from inside the inn. The maid smiled at Metta and Gymn. “Enjoy your treat.” She glanced up at Kale and winked before returning to her duties.
Dar was still talking to the magistrate. Bardon stood stiff and unyielding. So, holding the doneel orphan close, Kale joined her dragons. She saw the maid had placed a mound of pudding in the middle of the plate and sprinkled it with shaved cardonut. It looked like an island covered with grass in the middle of a brown lake of ale. With typical dragon enthusiasm for food, Metta and Gymn lapped at what was called poorman’s dessert.
“I’m hungry,” said Toopka.
Kale patted the small child’s back. “I thought your tummy was full of pickle.”
Toopka flashed a mischievous grin. “That was an hour ago.”
“Stealing is not right.”
“I know.” Toopka’s face fell. “Most of the grocers leave food behind the stalls for those who have to forage. Master Tellowmatterden doesn’t.” A grin peeked from under her furry top lip. A twinkle lit her eyes. “And he hollers so loud and gets red. It’s fun to watch him stomp around.”
“It is still wrong to steal.”
“Paladin says to feed the orphans and widows.”
Kale wondered if that was written in one of the books that sat on her desk in The Hall. “Even if he does,” she said slowly, “you should take what is given to you. You shouldn’t steal from Tellowmatterden.”
“I wish you would quit calling it stealing. It was more for fun than stealing.”
“If it’s stealing, it has to be called stealing.”
Toopka gave a great sigh and laid her head on Kale’s shoulder. “I’m still hungry.”
A serving maid passed by just at that moment. Kale suspected Toopka had timed her declaration. The young woman stopped, picked a delicate finger sandwich off her tray, and handed it to the little doneel. Toopka accepted it with one of her winning smiles and a polite, “Thank you.” She nestled in Kale’s arms and chewed with contentment and a great deal of lip-smacking.
Leaning against the wall next to the window, Kale surveyed the people around her in the garden. A marione family with small children sat at a table. The father said something, and the others laughed. Their relaxed, friendly faces reminded Kale of the mariones she had met at Lee Ark’s home. Unlike the people in River Away where she was raised, these mariones enjoyed each other and life in general. Even though